One of my favorite train wrecks is the Real Housewives series on Bravo (I’ll pause while you judge me), which follows different groups of “ladies” from areas around the country who are, ironically, neither real nor housewives. Unfortunately, many of these women ruin my enjoyable viewing experience by falling prey to the “Second Season Curse.”
The curse hits when the women make the mistake of reading their own positive press, and come to the second season with egos too big to fit through the door of their bank-owned homes. Many, many Housewives are victims of said curse, bringing a diva attitude and over-the-top drama, in an effort to increase their camera time. And the latest Housewife to have fallen victim is, apparently, Sonja Tremont-Morgan of New York City.
As her name implies, she was once married to a much-older Morgan heir, whom I’m sure she married solely for love. Now, however, she’s a divorced mother of one, living on the Upper East Side or West Side or some side of Manhattan, in a townhome she can’t afford, that sports its very own elevator (which she also can't afford).
If you’re familiar with the series, you know that last season Sonja was the voice of reason among the women (although, in all fairness, it doesn’t take much to sound reasonable among this bunch; “Satchels of gold” anyone?). But this season, it seems she may have finally drunk from the crazy Kool-Aid. It was inevitable, I suppose. She’s done a lot of ridiculous stuff, but the icing on the cake was this past week when she showed up to her own costume party missing half her costume. She mingled, she schmoozed, and then she said, (paraphrasing) “Oh my, I’ve forgotten my petticoat” and then conveniently bent over to show just how much petticoat she’d forgotten.
If you’re familiar with the series, you know that last season Sonja was the voice of reason among the women (although, in all fairness, it doesn’t take much to sound reasonable among this bunch; “Satchels of gold” anyone?). But this season, it seems she may have finally drunk from the crazy Kool-Aid. It was inevitable, I suppose. She’s done a lot of ridiculous stuff, but the icing on the cake was this past week when she showed up to her own costume party missing half her costume. She mingled, she schmoozed, and then she said, (paraphrasing) “Oh my, I’ve forgotten my petticoat” and then conveniently bent over to show just how much petticoat she’d forgotten.
She claimed the wardrobe malfunction was just a giant brain fart, but, speaking as someone who’s admittedly never forgotten an essential undergarment, but who still thinks she would realize her bottom half was missing, wouldn’t you feel a little breeze? Wouldn’t you, at some point, realize your hindquarters were sticking to the car’s seat or the dining-room chair or something?! The only reasonable answer is yes, which means, she was either too drunk to notice or is just that desperate for attention (i.e. camera time). I’d bet it’s most likely what’s behind door #2, but either way, it’s pretty sad.
Hopefully for Sonja, her third season – if she gets one – will re-find her charm.
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