In the game of Risk that is The Real Housewives of New York, Sonja has found herself isolated with zero allies (please, Luann does not count), comforted only by the delusion that a chignon and free brunch can solve all her problems. The “audacity” of Sonja’s narcissism, as Dorinda puts it, has put Sonja in the running to be the villain this season. But we all know the truth: The audacity of all these women is the story engine of this show, and this episode was…audacious.
Let’s start with Ramona. The audacity to host a dinner party and pretend it’s in honor of Carole’s marathon is fooling literally no one. We all know this Hamptons shindig is an elaborate ploy to spend more time with Kirk (a mannequin who cooks), show off the wine glasses she grave robbed from King Tut’s tomb and try to get some wealthy viewers to rent her house for two weeks a year (tax-free). And don’t get me started on the nerve of Ramona to not hire a decorator. You may have built your own little empire from nothing, Ramona, but you need to sign on to Homepolish right this second and seek help.
And then there’s Luann. Dear God. It takes a certain kind of moxie to dress how she did for Ramona’s dinner party. It’s how I actually did dress at my bat mitzvah, with an alien-inspired updo that did not fit my huge head and some trashy-looking garb from Caché. And yet, Lu is a grown woman who prides herself on being part of the aristocracy. So the sheer audacity to wear braids—yet again—with a magenta feathered blouse is a crime against humanity, and Luann should be arrested…again.
Dorinda, Dorinda, Dorinda. The audacity to make the audience of a silly reality TV show about rich women ponder the question “Can one equate divorce with the death of a spouse?” is the act of true pot stirrer. It’s like asking current Britney Spears to sing “Ave Maria”—it’s gonna be strange and wild, which is also how I’d explain all of their outfits in this episode. While I personally don’t find Dorinda’s reflections on Richard inappropriate, and I do find Sonja utterly delusional, Sonja is right: You can’t calculate other people’s pain. That’s not fair. The audacity to think your loss is more earth-shattering than someone else’s is just as narcissistic as you claim Sonja is.
And honestly? I can’t even get into Sonja. I just feel too sad. I don’t like seeing her ganged up on—even if it’s because of her own delusions. (That overhead shot of the fallen, disgraced Sonja at brunch when Ramona moves away is heartbreaking!) But with all the talk of meds, depression and whatnot, let’s have some compassion for dear Sonja. It takes some balls of steel, Ramona, to drop a friend when she needs you most, even if she sent you a text calling you an “unfeeling P.O.S.” Because you know what? She ain’t wrong.
Death, divorce and depression aside, probably the most mind-meltingly audacious moment was Tinsley thinking we’d buy that her check would clear or that Sonja wouldn’t seriously try to cash it.
Here’s a rendering of that text exchange:
Tinsley: Hi S, plz wait till Monday to cash check. tx
Sonja: Y? Is that when your parents fill your bank? Also, u couldn’t even spell out thanks? Gee, thanks.
Tinsley: Get a life Sonia.
Sonja: Get Bethenny’s bf’s sweater.
Tinsley: LOLz. I know. Sad.
Tinsley: But srsly wait till Monday