So Chic, Very Chic: Escape From Beverly Hills

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills is the epitome of a very specific sort of privilege afforded only to the wealthiest (and most desperately wealthy) denizens of this embattled nation. Each year, they’re collectively handed millions of dollars and just about two dozen episodes of primetime television to wear their most expensive diamonds and fight over manners.

These past three episodes of Bravo’s ratings juggernaut have moved at about the pace you’d expect from such a hulking behemoth. Dorit, wounded by the dissolution of her marriage and bleeding out on the battle lines of the modern nuclear family, has dragged Kyle’s equally bloodied corpse around like a trophy someone's kid wins for participating in an elementary school soccer league. Sutton has been helped onto her high horse by that gay assistant, while Erika still prays the next dose of her Wellbutrin prescription might finally make her feel literally anything.

Elsewhere, Garcelle looks on into the infinite abyss, the fourth wall her favorite sightline to break through, and Bozoma is just diplomatic enough to keep her opinions to herself — until she sees fit to destroy Sutton for reasons that will never be quite clear. Diplomatic, sure, but not clever enough to hide the strategy she cooked up when they cast her for the show. Let’s hope, unlike her last decade of professional work, she lasts more than a year. I’d like to see her follow through!

Kathy Hilton is also around, as rich and jobless women tend to be on these shows when their egos outmatch their collection of questionably sourced antiques. Two decades of bad press can’t keep her down, not when she has women to scold and a family to rule over like a struggling lordling in a forgotten corner of medieval Europe after their lands have been racked by the plague.

I sound aggrieved, and I’ll admit I am. I wish, more than anything, their personalities kept up with the clothes. And my god, the clothes this season! Shall we?

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills

Jennifer Tilly

Amongst the richest on this cast is Jennifer Tilly, a new addition as a friend of this season. She’s come out swinging with reportedly the most iconic piece of American jewelry in her promotional photos: Paul Flato’s belt buckle necklace. The excessively priced jewelry and her everlasting Simpsons royalties (courtesies of her since deceased ex-husband, one of the show’s original co-creators) were enough to endear me to her. Then she pops up in her confessionals dressed like the sort of dusty doll you might see on a shelf at an antique fair in a big red barn somewhere. Look at her! She’s like a minor supporting character on The Gilded Age who accidentally runs over the social scene’s hot new thing with her horse and carriage.

Jennifer Tilly and Garcelle Beauvais

She’s also the type of terminally wealthy woman who leans into eccentricity and kitsch, which I personally find to be the most delightful on television. Here she is in what I’d assume is a Libertine coat, considering she has other jackets from them, and they’re this exact brand of banal. All things considered, I quite like zaniness for a dinner in Orange County but wish she’d have found a different shade of orange-red lipstick —minor gripes for a major new player.

Bozoma Saint John

I was pleasantly indifferent to Boz’s first confessional fit, a feeling that continues with this second one. I like that it pushes the limits of both the camera and my television’s color capabilities. Its structural details give her a commanding aura, and it fits her beautifully. The pleasant indifference, rather than outright apathy, is aided by her wonderfully intricate updo and precise glam. I say precise because the mug is stamped and perhaps my favorite part of this look, despite being hindered by the outlandish neon orange swallowing her alive. Am I being pedantic about the color? I feel like I’m being pedantic about the color.

Jenna Lyons

Jenna, unlike her contemporaries on these franchises, has exactly one silhouette. She tweaks it just slightly, adding jackets and glasses and the occasional dress, but for the most part, what we see is what we get. There’s plenty to criticize for the chokehold she has this show in conceptually, but the uniform works! She’s leaned into the literal character she represents both in fashion and amongst her co-stars: casual, tailored elegance undergirded by a generally off-putting eccentricity.

There’s just so much personality in her uniforms more than she can ever express on this show, and it’s the best anyone’s been dressed in some time. Rarely do we see people’s true selves be expressed by the clothes they wear on Bravo. More often than not, the most we’ll get is their stylist’s invoice and a price tag. Thank god for Jenna Lyons, then! Consider that the first and last time I’ll ever say it.

Sai De Silva

Speaking of price tags, how much do we think this evil mother-of-the-bride in a mid-2000s soap opera dress actually cost? It’s Prada, naturally, because only Miuccia could make something this banal. Well, I’m not interested in it enough to actually look, but let’s pray Sai had it rented or on loan from a stylist, before the mid-season twist where the bride teams up with her new mobster lover to steal her company. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of The Bold and The Beautiful.

Bronwyn Newport

Bronwyn has a lot of money. She has a lot of time, too, if those various shots of her wandering around downtown Salt Lake City in seasonably inappropriate Moschino sets tell us anything about her off-season. As such, let’s speak plainly to her, because I need her to use that time wisely: Take your unfathomable amounts of wealth and access to couture, put down the spray tan bottle and orange lipstick and go hire Ron Hartleben. He used to work for Carine Roitfeld, and he styles Anitta, Tyla and Sabrina Carpenter. I think he could get you together and out of these cropped bra tops. Please! You have the richest husband we’ve ever seen on this show. Take his money and run with it in a briefcase to someone who knows what they’re doing.

Meredith Marks

I’ve never really gagged over Meredith’s fashions. There’s about 40 columns of evidence in support of this inalienable fact. That said, when she popped up in Alaia to kick Angie out of her bat mitzvah? I gagged. Literally, I gagged. Generally speaking, I attempt to elevate the conversations around these women and their clothes, but I’m in the mood to continue speaking plainly: You better work, bitch.

The Real Housewives of Potomac

Wendy Osefo

I have written and deleted about 14 different paragraphs on Wendy’s mind-boggling sweater. Emphasis on mind-boggling, because what possessed her to wear this for a casual sit-down with her mother is beyond my imagination. I’ll let it speak for itself for once in my miserable life.

Later, she popped back up in a corset that washed up from a Drag Race design challenge. Michelle Visage eviscerated the baby queen for hot glueing strands of pearls to it instead of actually sewing anything, and she was sent home to a lip sync of an Ava Max song. Still, doesn’t she look beautiful?

Karen Huger

Karen’s dress made me think of the costume my theater department sourced for the ethically and culturally insensitive Mrs. Meers character in our production of Thoroughly Modern Millie. I was so envious of the dress, although Tumblr had made me smart enough to know the part was a blight on golden age musical theater. Me? I had auditioned for Millie’s best friend. But pre-Glee America was homophobic, and they thought it would be funny to put me in drag instead for the opening number. It always got lots of laughter from the audience, all things considered.

Photos courtesy of Bravo/NBCUniversal