I can appreciate the hypocrisy of what I’m about to say. After all, was it not I who loudly proclaimed her affection for everyone’s favorite yenta, Patti Stanger? Who proudly touted her near-evangelical devotion to The Real Housewives of Orange Country and their transcontinental counterparts in New York and New Jersey? Indeed, I believe it was.
But, Bravo, you’ve really done it this time.
With Princesses: Long Island, my network of choice has proven the reliability of its now- perfected reality TV cocktail: equal parts voyeurism, indulgence, and plastic surgery. In the case of Princesses, the recipe yields a program that chronicles the antics of six heinously extravagant millenials living with their parents in greater New York. Its stars are named Amanda, Joey, Casey, Erica, Ashlee, and Chanel. Yes, Chanel.
Obviously, I should love it.
Enter the hypocrisy. While I evidently felt no such moral repulsion when tuning into Shahs of Sunset (Sundays at 10pm, guys!), I winced at Princesses evident parodying of those cultural stereotypes so closely associated with my extended mishpuchah (for the uninitiated, this means family.)
“Has cable television ever showcased such an abundance of Juicy tracksuits?” I wondered. “Of marriage woes? Of kvetching?” And while it’s hard to pinpoint the most cringe-worthy moment in the show’s inaugural teaser, I’d wager that “Shabbat Shalom. Go fuck yourself” is a solid contender.
Maybe it’s my admitted bias, but—like a Lonely Island short or a YouTube video gone viral—Princesses strikes me as both utterly hilarious and wildly offensive. Of course, the real question is whether I’ll tune in when Bravo eventually debuts the show. To which, for now, I’ll only respond: Oy vey.
-Written by Mattie Kahn