We hate Brad Goreski’s new reality show It’s a Brad, Brad World, right? I gave it 2 episodes just to make sure I wasn’t prematurely dismissing the unnecessary spin-off, but his grating Canadian expat valley-speak hasn’t gotten any less annoying. 
With his bow tie overkill and predictable match-clash style, I’m so bored with him already. Don’t brag about styling Jessica Alba. Jessica Alba almost never gets it right. 
Brad obviously thinks he’s really cute and doesn’t hesitate to remind the audience how adorable we are supposed to find him. We all well know there can only be one prettiest girl in the room. The question is, does Brad want to be that girl or style her? 
Last night E! closed out the holiday weekend with the premiere of Kim and Kourtney Take New York. Many tuned in to see the demise of Kris and Kim’s short-lived marriage predictably unfold. As expected, Kris behaved childishly, and narcissistic Kim remains completely self-involved. None of this matters though because the only thing worth discussing was the anal leakage Kourtney left behind on the duvet after her Basti (Ayurvedic herbal oil enema). Just to be clear, oil leaked out of Kourtney’s ass through her pants and onto Kris and Kim’s bed. Ass oil spill ya’ll. 
How do you compete with anal leakage? Bravo aired a new episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta. First, we’re in agreement that Peter’s a bitch, right? He was a bitch last week to Apollo and he was a bitch this week to Cynthia’s sister Mal. Sheree was right, Peter’s serving bitchassnesss. Again, none of this matters because the only thing worth discussing was Phaedra’s 35th birthday gift to Kandi in the form of Ridiculous, the stripper who performs self-head. Like dude can straight suck his own dick. After the performance, some guests (including Kandi’s Ma) acted deeply appalled at the auto-fellatio, but during the show not a single one of those riveted bitches turned away.
Seen this show 2 Broke Girls? Probably not since it lives on CBS, but Bravo can’t be your everything folks. Lately, I’ve taken to waiting until a new show gets picked up for a second season before I start watching the first to save myself the sense of abandonment when a good show gets prematurely canceled, but the returning fall offerings have been so lackluster, I bent the rule for this show. Before you get all dismissive, consider the birth parents: Michael Patrick King (of SATC) and Whitney Cummings. 
Kat Dennings serves up sarcasm and Brooklyn (choke out this word) hipster attitude as waitress Max Black dishing diner food to Williamsburg’s most insufferable skinny jeans set. It has been said that Manhattan was the fifth character in Sex and the City; the same can be said of Dennings’ ample rack in 2 Broke Girls. They practically have dialogue. 
Beth Behrs does her best Legally Blond impression as Caroline Channing, a Wharton graduate ex-socialite now broke after her father was indicted in a Ponzi scheme. She’s present, but has slightly less dimension than their backyard co-star Chestnut the horse.
2 Broke Girls isn’t perfect. For instance, any Brooklyn hipster worth his pretension would know that cupcakes are so five years ago. But really, there isn’t much else on, and it harbors seeds of potential. It’s a fuckload better than Gossip Girl. Tell me you aren’t wasting precious moments of your life on that irrelevant mess. 
So what do we make of the Bethenny Frankel money mystery? Her desperate visit on The Today Show did little to clarify doubts surrounding the sale of Skinnygirl Cocktails. She implied the 100+ million dollar figure was accurate. Doubters at Huffpo ran a retraction. Her defensive and side-stepping response has everybody wondering about the truth. Fishy.
Today also broke the Giuliana Rancic cancer diagnosis story this week. I have a soft spot for Giuliana and frown over her sad turn of luck. Word is the cancer was present in both breasts, and she had a double lumpectomy within the last couple days. The medical community rushed to defend IVF and insist that the treatments did not necessarily increase the risk of cancer. Some cancers are hormone-fed, correct? IVF involves super doses of hormones, correct? Doctors are making a shitload of money off fertility treatments, including IVF, correct? Correct. 
In more uplifting news, I’m living for Beavis and Butt-head right now and anxiously await the premiere next Thursday. This is one remake that won’t suck. No one will miss Jersey Snore. This season was extra weak marinara sauce. Seriously though, the question we’ve all been skirting: is it possible Pauly D is gay? Carefully consider it. 
I apologize. I watched the last two episodes several times and tried to muster any enthusiasm for this trite, tired-ass show, but I just can’t care.
Don’t give a fuck about the self-created moving drama. The world might literally end if Rachel and Rodger have to spend an extra night in the lap of luxury at the Montage. Boofuckinghoo. 
Don’t give a fuck about what Anne Hathaway wore 8 months ago at the dullest Oscars ever. 
Everything else is pretty much Zoe pimping Zoe. 
Extra don’t give a fuck about watching femmy Rodger and his cheesy friends toast to a “masculine” child. If you want a masculine child, don’t name him “Skyler.”
Whereas in previous seasons Joey was sprinkled into episodes like a rare Lebanese spice, now the annoying fame-whore sucks the energy out of every scene. He’s making me hate him. Zoe’s whole limp dick team this season is so boring, whiny, and kiss-ass.
Zoe is obviously exercising her EP muscle and editing out all the real drama because there have to be legit reasons why she can’t seem to keep a stylist for any length of time. For most staffers, there is an awfully short shelf life at Team Zoe. Nobody seems to leave on good terms, though the details of the departures are always nebulous.
Mostly, I’m just super uninspired by her right now. I’m over her derivative style and shallow, needy banter with her hired gay. She’s obviously exhausted this season, and she’s worn me out too.
Rodger took Jeremiah to the 7,000 square foot rental that Zoe insisted on leasing in anticipation of the baby’s arrival. This decision makes no sense on a variety of levels. For one, why spend oodles on furniture for a rental? Second, what newborn needs 7,000 square feet? Don’t newborns basically inhabit one foot of space surrounding their mother or father for the first several months of their lives? Not to mention stylistically the house is totally unlike anything Rachel and Rodger have dwelled in previously. All these considerations notwithstanding, in typical Team Zoe fashion, Rodger gave Jeremiah a two week deadline to complete the daunting assignment. Jeremiah looked like he might pop a vessel when Rodger declared that completing the project on the super accelerated time line was his problem.
Rachel got a last minute call to style a shoot for Kim Kardashian. Realizing the enormity of the ass she needed to cover, Rachel called Joey and Jeremiah for an emergency meeting at Zoe headquarters. Joey received the call from dispatch and gave Jeremiah all of ten minutes to wipe the sleep out of his eyes and sculpt his Robert Pattinson ‘do before showing up at his door with an impatient toe tap. The two rushed over to Zoe’s office curious to learn of their latest assignment.
When they arrived, Zoe informed them that the world’s most overexposed and under-talented celebuwhore would require a minimum of two looks to shoot her perfume commercial the following day. The competitive bitchery started brewing between the queens as soon as the Kardashian assignment was handed down from above. 
They rushed off to Bismarck to collect every red gown and Brian Atwood shoe in the showroom. Once at BPCM, Joey and Jeremiah bickered over their approaches to pulling items for the shoot. Joey stuck with Rachel’s mantra of “more is more,” and Jeremiah thought it wiser to streamline the selections. 
After the pull, J+J called Zoe, and she informed them that only one could attend the shoot tomorrow. It was no surprise when she selected her favorite sycophantic gay Joey to attend in lieu of Jeremiah. She sure has a way a pitting her staff against one another. It’s no wonder she goes through employees like she does her Cosabella thongs.
The next day at the shoot, Zoe kissed Kardashian’s gargantuan money-maker before dressing her in two of the most uncreative looks ever. First, Zoe put together a clichéd men’s button-down with boy shorts and a lace bra ensemble. Even though this interpretation has been around as long as the white button-down, Rachel described the outfit as if it were a work of creative genius, and as if she had copyrighted that shit. 
Rachel dressed Kardashian in an equally uninspired look for the second round of photos. Joey greased Kim and slid her into a red stretch satin Dolce & Gabbana gown. The obvious selection read more sausage casing than sexy. 
A body-con red gown for Valentine’s Day? This bitch gets paid for this unoriginal shit? What a weak-ass lazy effort yo.
Rachel arrived in New York and fussed with the final touches to the collection. Jessica Iredale from Women’s Wear Daily arrived for a private preview. Zoe described the collection to Iredale and not-so-subtly dropped the sex of her unborn child in the mix. Interesting PR strategy.
Overall, the color in the collection is off. The camel isn’t quite right. The gold buttons are a bit too garish. It does feel very Studio 54 Halston-y and therefore true to Rachel’s aesthetic. The larger problem is that her viewpoint is predictable and one-note.
We all agree that creatively Zoe isn’t in the same stratosphere as Alexander Wang, right? Put it this way – you’ve got $400 bucks are you gonna buy Wang, or are you going to buy the Rachel Zoe Collection? Ask Lauren fucking Conrad. 
The lemming buyers must have liked what they saw because more than one high-end department store scooped up the collection. A QVC sell-through is one thing, but can Rachel attract a high-end shopper? In Zoe’s case, what she lacks in design talent she overcompensates for in reality show exposure. We’ll see how the collection sells with its well-timed commercial release.
We met up with Zoe who is 6 months pregnant but barely showing. She apparently sustained her unborn child on Pellegrino and cranberry juice alone in an effort to maintain her sample size figure through her last trimester.
Since we last saw her, Rachel’s expanded and divided her team into four divisions: RZ digital, styling, archive and design, and product development. 
Mandana’s the new VP of Rachel Zoe, Inc. Like most of the RZ staff, Mandana’s underqualified for her position, but she aesthetically fulfills a role in Rachel’s editorial vision for the office. An awkward kiss-ass, she literally lowered down to hug Rachel’s “peanut.” Don’t ever. 
There’s always a last minute push at RZ. Preparations for the launch of her first collection bogged down the office on this particular day. Zoe invited editors, buyers, and other important fashion folk to view the collection before the rush of fashion week. 
Since Rachel can’t seem to keep a stylist for more than a year, she and Rodger conducted interviews to fill a nebulous position which basically boiled down to gay sidekick. Jeremiah came at Mandana’s recommendation and is equally unqualified. 
It is fair to question the eye of someone who would wear that outfit to an interview at Rachel Zoe. Although Jeremiah lacked credentials and experience, Rachel predictably adored him and couldn’t wait to add him to the team, despite Rodger’s well-founded hesitation. During Jeremiah’s second interview, Rachel was wooed by his (not that clever) one-liners and hired him on the spot. 
In anticipation of his growing family, devoted wife Rodger went house hunting with Zoe’s personal assistant Marisa. A very slick LA-ish real estate agent showed the two a vacant $20,000 a month, 7,000 square foot behemoth. Rodger worried about furnishing the massive mansion and asked Marisa not to tell Rachel anything about the unattractive rental. Later on, Marisa showed Rachel photos of the place and Zoe got a “witch vibe” and obsessed over renting the dated monstrosity.
Working a tired Twilight look, Jeremiah showed up for his first day and didn’t even know how to use the steamer. 
When Rachel showed up a short while later, she was pleased with the samples of her new collection. Just as the episode closed, Jordan the fit model (as opposed to Jordan the stylist) arrived to display the line. Want more RZ Collection coverage? Demeter Clarc included a few different seasons of Rachel Zoe’s offerings earlier this year, use the search feature below to catch up.
Let’s just acknowledge what is blatantly obvious: this sad run sucked from premiere to finale. Without a central conflict or sincere connections between the ladies, RHNY suffered from RHOC syndrome this season. Symptoms include ubiquitous fakery, forced scenes, and contrived melodrama. 
God bless a snotty gay. Alex showed up for her first paid editorial for The Block. After listing a string of third tier shows she walked in during fashion week, James the requisite homo elitist, subtly shamed her by repeating, “Perfect then, Perfect then,” in a bored and disdainful tone. Who can blame him? Alex’s total lack of self-awareness, paired with her whiny pageant dad Simon, makes her an unbelievably easy target for criticism. 
BTW Simon, revealing your wife was chosen 3rd on US Weekly’s worst dressed list isn’t something to brag about in a room of fashion folk. Though she did live up to the title later in the episode by wearing this utterly fug pink double-breasted short suit.
Bravo aired teasers for the finale all week that hinted at a change-of-life baby for Ramona. The preview giveaways meant to build excitement were dubious since everyone is well aware that at 55, the only change of life happening to Ramona is the retirement of her ovaries. Bravo’s last ditch effort to salvage the season with engineered baby drama smacks of desperation.
In another red-herring subplot, LuAnn and Jacques invited the whole crew to a celebration of their one year anniversary. The fiesta was held on a boat ironically destined to sail around the Statute of Liberty, a monument presented to America by the Count’s ancestors, as Ramona pointedly reminded us in her personal interview segment.
Once on board, Ramona pretended to break the potential pregnancy news to Mario. Then she and Sonja flitted off to the “head” like two leopard-clad sorority sisters with an eightball. Sonja conveniently supplied the EPT (how much did they pay for that product placement?), and Ramona supplied the urine.
Sensible Jill (relatively speaking) immediately called bullshit and didn’t hesitate to introduce the more obvious explanation of menopause to account for Ramona’s cyclical irregularity.
For some unbeknownst reason (did Cohen offer her a kidney?), Natalie Cole agreed to make a cameo and sing a duet with LuAnn. Fake-ass LuAnn wouldn’t know Natalie Cole from Natalie Merchant, but she pretended to fawn all over the singer when initially introduced by her opportunistic producer.
Natalie sang decent, LuAnn sounded nervously pitchy, and Simon looked downright bitchy during the performance.
While Jill was hoping for the party to culminate in an engagement announcement, the limp-dick gathering just petered out without any big reveals from either LuAnn or Ramona.
If you are attached to this group of ladies, don’t miss the reunion next week. Chances are it will be the last time you see this ensemble on Cohen’s confrontational couches. This pathetic excuse for a season proved the NYC franchise is begging to be recast. At this point, any change would serve as a welcomed improvement.
-
Home > Bravo