The Real (Nekkid) Housewife of New York City

Adrienne Martini — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 21:30:00 GMT

I have no shame when it comes to reality TV. The ones that draw me in I will fiercely defend against all cultural snobs who rail on about how they degrade society. For what it's worth, I think said snobs are a bigger drain than any amount of reality TV -- but that's another fight.

Which is why I can unabashedly admit my love for The Real Housewives of New York City. The Orange County ladies left me cold -- I only made it through one half of one episode -- but their East Coast avatars were hypnotic.

Especially Alex, the more pretentious than thou mom of two who takes great pride in her pre-schooler's fluency in Latin and French. Alex is an opera lover. She and her husband Simon are very, very cultured. More cultured than you, certainly.

Which is why I'm just amused as all get out that she's also posed for some nudie pixs that have made their way online, as all things seem to do. I think it's swell that a mom is comfortable enough with her body to expose it to the world. But this Real Housewife, who appears to make social climbing an extreme sport, would be one of the last you'd expect to strip it all off. I can't help but wonder what the Countess would think of it all.

Photo credit: bravotv.com

My Heart. It Bleeds.

Adrienne Martini — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 15:31:00 GMT

At first, I assumed "Mommy's Going Out," a column in Cookie magazine, was a joke.

Then, I sorta just hoped it was, because considering the alternatives was giving me a headache.

Then, I realized that Cookie isn't the type of publication to pull an Andy Kaufman-style prank on the reading community and that, no, this Tatiana Boncompagni must be a real person who thinks she has real problems, what with all the black-tie galas and Chanel bags and free Bobbi Brown cosmetics. Boo-hoo, she says, I only go out once a week to fabulous parties and spend the rest of the time with my fabulous family.

Then, I broke out some Google-fu and found out that, indeed, Boncompagni is for real.

Then, I got very, very sad. Not sad that my own life isn't like Boncompagni -- my free bath salts were of the Epsom-and-food-coloring variety -- but sad that such lives exist outside of fiction and that those who live them think their problems can be related to by the rest of us.

Strollerderby : socialites

The Real (Nekkid) Housewife of New York City

My Heart. It Bleeds.