Confessions of a Convert: How Vanderpump Rules Re-Defined Reality TV
My parents are European immigrants; I grew up hating reality TV.
As far as I knew, reality TV was overrun with premeditated, orchestrated, vapid, and heinous drama—which could almost be a pull quote from my mother's mouth. With my mother being Polish and my father Portuguese, my upbringing was void of household conversations regarding body image, crude language, substance use, sex, gossip, celebrity lifestyle, and most everything else you can imagine that takes center stage in reality television. Generally, when these topics were brought up at home, they were used to exemplify the toxicity and superficiality of American pop culture. This is not to say that my parents ever restricted the media I consumed or were completely disengaged from American pop culture themselves, but rather that they did not grow up consumed by it and feared the effects of insecurity and insipid thinking it might pass on to me. The last thing my parents wanted for me was a desire to be just like one of those Hollywood hopefuls who skips meals and drinks their way through the day.
However, in my sophomore year of college, my partner introduced me to the absolute peak of reality television itself. She had grown up in Brooklyn, New York, with two American-born and raised parents who were well acclimated to American pop culture. Just as they had brought her into the world of Vanderpump Rules and forever altered the course of her life, she did the same for me. It was as if I had stepped into an alternate reality. Mind you, I attended primary, middle, and high school in Boston, Massachusetts—I was highly experienced with cliques, the rumor mill, incestuous friend groups and their constant relationship drama, etc. I had also seen various reality TV shows before (never taking much interest), but Vanderpump Rules was in a league of its own. When Stassi shamelessly named Scheana as a “husband-stealing, fame-whoring piece of shit” in the very first episode, my mouth fell open before my mind could even process the comedic quality of the comment. I just couldn't believe “regular” people actually spoke that way. The language, outfits, fights, physical environment... It was akin to an LA-style "Mean Girls," except this one was real.
Vanderpump Rules is not your typical reality TV. The primary characters we are introduced to in season one, as well as their relationships with each other, existed long before the show began. Lisa Vanderpump became co-owner of Sur Restaurant & Lounge, in West Hollywood, in 2005. The waitstaff we become acquainted with in season 1, were largely hired in 2008-2010, but the show itself did not air until 2013. These people were not cast, they were hired to work at a restaurant. As it turns out, this was the key ingredient to producing the best reality television of all time. You literally can’t make this shit up.
Vanderpump Rules is an 11-season-long archive of these people's journeys through long-term friendships and relationships, personal and professional mistakes, addictions, therapeutic endeavors, and more. The show offers us a unique opportunity to witness the cast's personal growth and mental health evolution over more than a decade. As the seasons progress, we see cast members grapple with anxiety, depression, personality disorders, and other mental health challenges in real-time, often exacerbated by the pressures of fame and the scrutiny of public life. The show doesn't shy away from portraying these struggles, whether it's James Kennedy's battle with alcoholism and anger management or Lala Kent's path through grief and sobriety. Engaging with mental health in the context of reality TV is both rare and valuable in modern times. Vanderpump Rules is as much about entertainment as it is the subjective human experience, and we get to watch it all unfold, unfiltered and unmatched by any other reality TV show. It isn't just theatrics; it's a prime opportunity for those who love to psychoanalyze people they've never met before in bed late at night to do just that. As it turns out, I am one of those people.
The show closes out with a bang: the Scandoval—the scandal that broke the internet and turned Tom Sandoval into the "most hated man in America,” as stated by the New York Times. The societal impact of this event stands as testament to how intensely audiences have engaged with and emotionally invested in the progression of the cast's lives, and how culturally powerful the show has become. There is no possible way to feel bored or mentally stagnant while watching Vanderpump Rules—take it from me, someone who was bred to despise reality TV. Nowadays, I maintain many criticisms of reality TV, in addition to an understanding of its appeal and, even more so, an undying appreciation for the best of the best in its genre. When the time comes, I will likely, against my parents' wishes, be sitting my children down for their very first viewing of Vanderpump Rules in honor of the social and cultural staple it has become.