From the gifted creators of The Real Housewives of Atlanta, comes a gayer, whiter version known as The A-List New York. Fortunately, I was reminded about the show’s Monday night primetime debut on gay-themed channel Logo by glancing over the shoulder at the morning Metro of a fellow straphanger on the 1 train. Dubbed “Housewives With Balls”, these are five faux-cialite gays who, like their sistahs down south, ain’t got shit to do all day. Unless, of course, you consider parading down 8th Avenue and talking about bullshit charity work a packed schedule.
In true Housewives fashion, the season opener provides an all-important setup for the cast of characters (I could say something about fairies here, but that would almost be too easy).
Blonde. Blue-eyed. Possibly sculpted from stone. To sum up in the words of gay icon Kathy Griffin: “He’s one of these gay guys that’s so hot, that chicks would fuck him. They’d be like ‘I don’t care where his dick’s been.’” In addition to being brutally hot, Reichen is perhaps best known as Lance Bass’s ex and the winner of The Amazing Race 4 (read: reality TV whore). Oh, and he’s also a model/actor/singer/dancer/jewelry designer. After all, where would a reality show be without someone peddling their crap?
Latin. Muscled. Self-obsessed. I vaguely remember him making guest appearances as a photographer on America’s Next Top Model, which as we all know, is a springboard for many long-lived careers. Although after supposedly roughing it as a model/actor/waiter during his early days in New York, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and rooftop access provide at least some evidence that this guy is doing all right for himself. I think something else happened in the intro to Mike’s storyline, but I got distracted by the outline of his moob in a glittery Roberto Cavalli T-shirt.
Rodiney (yes, real name – not a typo)
Brazilian. Brooding. Reichen’s boyfriend of the week. He’s described by Mike during a review of his lookbook (did I forget to mention he’s a model too?) as a cross between Antonio Banderas and Gisele Bundchen. Given that Rodiney is Brazilian, he requires subtitles to compensate for the fact that he sounds hearing impaired when he speaks English. I’ll have to remember to mute the TV and just enjoy the scenery next time like my dad used to do during Dance Party USA in the late ’80s.
Corn fed. Seems ‘slow.’ Former drug addict and self-proclaimed model. His claim to fame is that he was once Marc Jacob’s live-in boytoy. For anyone who can (or cares to) remember, this was before Marc kicked his coke habit and dropped 80 pounds. And like the veritable Facebook of fucking that he is, Reichen at one point laid claim to Austin’s ass too. He also successfully goes out if his way to make Rodiney uncomfortable during their brief meeting, which was kind of surprising since language isn’t a strong suit for either of them.
Twink. Pudgy. Possibly a rent boy. He styles hair at a nondescript salon most likely in Chelsea since his shopping spree/gossip fest with Derek (see below) at Behavior made it quite clear that venturing above 23rd Street is out of the question. The best part here is that like Kim Zolciak, his similarly bogus blonde ATL counterpart, Ryan has a Big Papa too. Of course, in true homo style, he re-brands him as Mr. Big a la Carrie Bradshaw. Any sense of mystery is lost, however, once this beefy, black sugar daddy at least 20 years Ryan’s senior makes a cameo. At least we don’t have to spend all season wondering who’s pitching in that relationship.
Emaciated. Bitchy. Voice could cut glass. Apparently being a salon assistant to Ryan is good enough to be a grade-A gay these days. Though he is featured for about 40 seconds, he still gets title billing on the show.
Party boy. Jersey Shore orange. Has a “fabulous” life. He works as an agent for lots of models – famous ones who are allegedly among the highest paid in the industry, which he takes great pride in making abundantly clear. Although my eyes are still bleeding from a brief scene of Derek getting spray-tanned in a thong, I have to admit that I’m a tad jealous that he never waits behind velvet ropes at clubs and hangs on weekends or the occasional Tuesday night with Lindsay Lohan. I’m guessing they’re not watching Netflix in leopard-print Snuggies.
So, how does this manufactured group of friends all come together? At the opening of Reichen’s off-Broadway musical My Big Gay Italian Wedding, of course. I can only hope my ears will heal before next week’s episode.