Getting Real About Reality and Don't Come For Cut-Offs
Does breaking the 4th wall break the spell of reality television? Also, a Michelle Buteau stan moment and a cut-offs tribute.
Shello, kids!
Can you believe it’s FCKN JUNE?! Every year, June comes along and (metaphorically) catches me with my pants down. Inevitably, I have a shitload to do and, inevitably, all I want to do is FCK off to a beach somewhere.
As for you, I’m feeling more like a culture spirit guide than a pop culture philosopher this week so, if you’ll take me by the hand, I’d be happy to show you what’s clogging up the more frivolous part of my brain.
Vanderpump Rules and the Breaking of the “4th Wall”
Ariana Madix, Andy Cohen, Lisa Vanderpump and Tom Schwart Griffen Nagel/Bravo via US Weekly
I came to the Vanderpump Rules world exactly a year ago, when my first bout of Covid took me down for a week. VPR is the perfect thing to zone out with when your synapses stop firing.
You’ve been under a rock if you remain out of the loop about this (and congrats!) but this season was centered around the aftermath of #Scandoval, or what happens when a 40-year-old dude (Tom) who tries really hard to look like Snidely Whiplash, creeps around on his partner of 9 years (Ariana) with her best friend (Rachel) for 7 months.
The dude spent a few episodes of this season, including the finale, trying to corner Ariana to apologize on camera and she had enough self-respect to refuse to give him the satisfaction of a televised redemption arc, as any sane human so publicly FCKD over would. (Talk about MUTHR, FCKD.) Meanwhile, the Greek chorus of Lala and Scheana, Ariana’s co-stars and their mutual friends, try to delicately express their envy about how Ariana’s misfortune inspired the kind of professional opportunities (Dancing With The Stars, endless ads) they longed for themselves. Lala, particularly, let rip that when she was cheated on, no one offered her sympathy, much less an Uber Eats commercial. Unfortunately, what these gals didn’t get was it was how Ariana handled her misfortune that endeared her to the masses and brands—not the televised FCKNG OVR in and of itself. Eager to cash in on whatever fell off the tray, Scheana subjected us to what some might generously call a song called “Apple,” complete with lyrics chiding Tom for his Tom Foolery.
In the final moments of the finale, Sandoval dares push for his on-camera redemption moment (instead of apologizing to Ariana in their shared house in the months previous, because nothing can happen when the cameras aren’t rolling), she opts instead to waltz off-set with her entourage and go to Applebee’s while the friends of in their circle stood agape. Instead of supporting what she needed to do to get through facing her ex (like Ariana’s ride-or-die, cast member Katie), Lala complains to producers that Ariana didn’t just walk away from this televised confrontation, she walked out on the job. She was pissed that Ariana could just stop performing and live. The very last few seconds are overdubbed with cartoon villain Tom, cackling after Ariana’s exit in his nefariously dicky way. “I love it!” he says, in a hot mic moment. “It’s good for me!”
As a reality star, there’s how you live and there’s how you live on camera, and if nothing else, this season of VPR concluded in such a way as to provoke thought on what it means to “break the 4th wall” or be performative. Philosophically, I couldn’t help but ponder the performative behaviors that exist in our own interpersonal relationships, and how coveting another person’s experiences can stain the ripe potential of your own.
Obviously, as an entertainment reporter, I’m well aware of the intricacies of how these shows are made and work. The finale of the reunion gave this ex-couple their tearful moment and I did what I never do, which is feel dirty watching it. Is a reality show still worth watching if we are reminded, time and again, that the cast members are actively performing for the cameras? Lala accused Tom and Ariana of inauthentically performing their relationship for years while everyone else was being real. She called Ariana out for walking out and attempted to throw Ariana’s true friend Katie under the bus for venting to her about Ariana’s success behind closed doors. Was Lala performing her friendship with Ariana all along? Was Ariana performing it back?
What’s interesting is, that after this breaking of the 4th wall, VPR was put on pause; one reason is likely that Ariana will need months off to host Love Island USA (ironically filmed in Fiji). The other is the cast clearly needs some time to process and be people. When reality friends devolve into co-workers, viewers can feel it and lose interest. Will Bravo be able to tweak the cast to reinvigorate the voyeuristic illusion reality TV does its best to give us? Only time will tell!
Damn, I said I wasn’t going to get philosophical this week. I guess I lied!
Don’t Come for Cut-offs
If you haven’t read it yet, Danya Issawi, fashion news writer at The Cut, popped off this week about a Gen X staple and I can no longer keep my big mouth shut. Yeah, that’s right. She came for our cut-offs.
She exempts the longer wider Gen Z version, which are basically denim culottes, before launching into a missive condemning “jorts” to the trash bin, but not before admitting defeat in finding the perfect pair. Personally, I’d like to condemn the term “jorts” to the trash bin, but I digress:
“Every summer, in the sweltering 90-degree temperatures of the city, we try to make these glorified buttocks corsets work, but they never will. Jean shorts are simply, at their core, depraved. First and foremost, they don’t breathe. They suffocate parts of you that should get air (gyno’s orders). I just feel like if some experts are trying to convince me to sleep totally nude, how can I justify swaddling myself in thick denim? Before anyone tells me the shorts I’m getting are too small, let me tell you that I’ve tried every sizing trick in the book.
I’ve sized them up a little (these sometimes look like adult diapers). I’ve sized way up (the crotch will sit too low and creates a new set of problems worthy of an entirely different rant). I’ve tried men’s jeans that have found new life as women’s shorts (do you want your butt to look like that one flat fish from SpongeBob?). I’ve tried heavily washed and worn denim that is sworn to be soft (this is the closest I’ve gotten to finding comfort, but these tend to ride up in the middle of your thighs so much as to graze one another). I’ve even sized down to keep the stretching that ensues from wearing a pair at bay all day (this was my gravest mistake). And all of it comes up, well, short.
Tiny pants are hot. I get it. I can admit that it sometimes feeds the soul to wear a petite pair of glorified underwear (perhaps a little longer than the Free People micro shorts, though). But at what cost? Is it worth an uncomfortable seam wedging itself somewhere on your person? Or the endless potential for chafing in a plethora of bodily locations? Then again, maybe I’ve grown weak and soft. Maybe I’m reaching a certain age where feeling comfortable outweighs the gleeful high of feeling yourself. Like, the other day I really, truly did consider buying those weird toe spreaders in the name of orthopedic health …”
Reading between the lines of this post, she’s clearly referring to the Millennial version of the high-waisted, FUPA-giving, booty-cheek hanging version of “jort” often worn with crop tops that no one on earth should’ve ever worn in the first place. The 3” Millennial rebrand of the “Daisy Duke,” minus the denim fray. On this front, I concur. No vagine was built for those. They should come with a Monistat prescription.
But before this ridiculous version of “jorts” entered the chat was the Gen X staple called “cut-offs,” or jeans that you cut off mid-thigh (5”-7” inseam) and wore as shorts. They are absolutely comfortable and versatile enough to live your errand-running beach girl or back-to-school punk fantasy when worn with black tights and Doc Martins. Agree that no denim is the best option for a 90+ degree day—only dresses or linen works then—but, if sized right, cut-offs are a great way to be comfortable on an 80-degree day when topped with a slightly oversized t-shirt.
Some might say that Gen X folks are far too old for such items of clothing. They say that we must cover our legs for fear the new layer of dimples that grace our musculature (on those of us who can’t afford Ozempic, anyway) and the occasional varicose vein might terrify younger generations out of aging and into hiding their able stems from the world forever.
To this I say, do you. Tell those kids to skip shorts altogether and go straight to Eileen Fisher. Long live the cut-off!
GOING: The FCKNG geen-yus of Michelle Buteau
Next week, I’m very much looking forward to being in attendance at comedian Michelle Buteau’s Netflix taping at Radio City Music Hall. Many years ago (eight, maybe?), my dear friend Barbara invited me to join her for a live taping of Michelle’s podcast. Barbara worked with Michelle a lot and thought I’d like her. She was right. After the taping, we’re in the ladies’ room when Michelle walks in and we’re introduced.
We no sooner exchange pleasantries before the woman reads me for filth: “Do you straighten your hair? You straighten your hair, don’t you.”
There I was, drying my hands, brazenly thinking my hausfrau roots were taken care of when I was called to the carpet. She wasn’t done doing floor work. That was it for me. I was hooked.
Since then, I’ve interviewed Michelle Buteau for a pandemic piece about comedy and have seen her rip up smaller Brooklyn comedy venues like Union Hall and The Bell House. She’s now in a movie called Babes, directed by the poignant genius that is Pamela Adlon (who I’ve profiled for Shondaland) and co-starring with Ilana Glazer (who I’ve also seen in small venues). I can’t wait to see her kill it in Radio City.
I think I have good seats so I better make sure my blowout is on point.
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Until next time…
xoxox