This week on our favorite program, Rich Women Doing Things, the rich women did things. They wore bright orange instead of red because the only red outfits they brought on a trip to Spain had holes and clamps and razors and straps affixed to them. They ordered a pair of $2,000 heels with fake gems on clear plastic straps and said they would wear them with nothing but a thong, even though they currently have no lover in their life. They FaceTimed their adult daughters while doing their own glam on a girls’ trip, and the girls were wearing all of their clothes just like Katie Maloney Schwartz Maloney!
But mostly what they did was try to avoid Merce’s ashes as he finally came out of the purse and into the ocean. Well, not really into the ocean, more onto Garcelle’s back, in Kyle’s hair, and in Erika’s mouth. “I don’t know this man,” Erika says, “I don’t want to taste him.” In this instance, I agree, but there are plenty of men that I have never met that I certainly want to taste. Just putting that out there in case hot chef Storm wants to come to London and make me a sofrito sauce.
Yes, Sutton finally dumped Merce’s ashes in Sitges and, like Sonja Tremont Morgan of the Stanley Giant Sippable Mugs and Crematory Urns Morgans at a dog funeral before her, the ashes got into the wind and didn’t blow in the direction they intended. Has no one here seen The Big Lebowski? Has The Dude not abided for anyone on Bravo? Even if they wanted to dump him in the ocean, couldn’t she have turned her back to the wind and let the ashes go then? I don’t get this at all.
After Merce was dis-pursed (sorry, I can’t help myself), Trevor, Sutton’s old-timey gay, was kicked off the show for good. However, I’m a little mad at Trevor. As they’re driving to the ceremony, Trevor tells them it’s Bear Week in Sitges. Sutton asks what a bear is, and Erika, used to giving the gays everything they want, tells them all it’s a big, furry gay man. Then Garcelle talks about how Andy Cohen is a top, and then they all discuss cubs and otters and the gay strip in Sitges and how it literally has a club called Bukkake, but Andy Cohen, being the top that he is, won’t let the bukkake be on his network. Why I’m mad is because we can’t keep giving the straights everything. They’ve already taken poppers and Drag Race. What do we even have left? Just the term “bussy?” Damn, they got that too!
Even though Trevor left, the ceremony was not over because each of the women was still wearing a white flower necklace like they were just about to be plunged into a fiery pit in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. They are supposed to release their flowers into the ocean and then release something from their lives. Do people really do these things in real life, or is this just a show thing? If you are doing this in real life, please do not invite me because the thing I will release into the ocean is you.
Anyway, Sutton starts and says she really wants to release her sadness at her father’s passing, her anger at her divorce, and the past two decades of her life since she was last with Merce since she was last her true, original self. For a brief shining moment, I loved Sutton a little bit more than usual. Garcelle says that she wants to release feeling alone and her abandonment issues. Dorit says she wants to give up her PTSD, and her husband, PK, a sea anemone that will latch onto your nipple and never let go, pops up from the ocean to tell her she doesn’t even have it in the first place. Crystal wants to release her brother, who seems to be releasing himself out of the country to get away from her. Annemarie wants to release something. I don’t know. I don’t listen to her. It was probably Sutton’s esophagus.
Kyle makes a teary release, saying she wants to let go of thinking she could have done something to help her friend Lorene, her sisters, her husband, or anything really. Kyle just cries and tosses her flowers in the air like she’s a new bride, and the next person who catches them will have a crush on Morgan Wade that will never dissipate.
But it’s Erika whose release causes the biggest impact. “I’m going to let go in representation of the hurt from the past two and a half years that I feel many of you have contributed to,” she says. With that, she just drops the flowers in the water like a penny in a wishing well, even though what she really did was hurl a bomb at the rest of the women. Crystal takes it well and approaches Erika after the ceremony and apologizes for contributing to her pain. Erika tells her it’s okay, that shit happens, and they carry on, healed, maybe, or at least letting go. Ugh, do I have to admit the ceremony worked? Never!
After everyone changes and their glam squads are dispersed, they meet their tour guide, Manolo. Okay, I don’t want to blow up this dude’s Trip Advisor, but Manolo Non-Blahnik didn’t give them a tour or really guide them anywhere. He just showed up twice, hugged the ladies, played some guitar, and then pawned them off on someone else; in this case, it was Mimo, the owner of Tablao de Carmen, the flamenco dancing meat hall where the ladies would be performing this evening.
After her letting go, Erika’s situation keeps coming up in conversation. On the bus on the way to dinner, Kyle says that she is always signing whatever her husband tells her, and Erika says, “That’s how I got into trouble, Kyle,” and don’t we know it? When they’re eating dinner, they’re discussing what they like most about the trip, and Erika says that she could finally relax around the women and mentions last season’s disastrous Aspen trip. Garcelle tells her she can finally see how deeply their behavior affected Erika and Sutton offers a toast to her and her Vegas residency, but adds in a dig that not everyone got the elaborate invites that everyone else got, or an invite at all for that matter. Sutton lets the mouse go with one hand and scoops it back up with the other.
But Sutton is right; the women seem to be getting over their problems with each other, they seem to be getting along, and they seem to be having fun when Sutton isn’t running an itinerary tighter than renowned top Andy Cohen’s booty hole. (Too far? Probably. True? For sure.) Their flamenco dance, while rudimentary, was nice because at least it brought them all together.
Back in the States, Dorit goes over to Kyle’s house. What Kyle hasn’t told her, hasn’t told anyone, is she isn’t sure whether or not her marriage is going to make it. This seems like producing after the fact, like the news of the separation leaked to the press, the producers found out and called Kyle back in to finally talk about it on camera. This is when she should have been talking about it. Dorit is literally there to ask about her marriage, and Kyle can’t muster even one, “I don’t know if we’re going to make it.”
This is what the show is for, to talk about whether they will make it. She might not even know, but we all know that if Kyle was dragging her sister and Brandi Glanville into her bedroom to talk about Denise Richards dipping in the lady pond, then she sure as hell better be dissecting her marriage problems right here on our television screens.
Nothing is more relatable than having a spouse who is too busy with work to make their partner feel like a priority. Nothing is more relatable than telling a spouse you feel the relationship is in trouble and they’re not doing nearly enough. Nothing is more relatable than when they take over your favorite room in your sprawling house as their office, and then you’re stuck talking to your rich friends in your formal living room. That’s why we love Kyle. Salt of the earth, that one.
In that moment, I hope she thought about her flowers; I hope she thought of her friend and her sisters and her man, each one a petal, each one a bloom. And as they get farther and farther away from her, she can’t care anymore, even though she still does. The ache is in her heart and it will never disappear until the blood stops flowing through it. She watched those flowers as they sailed into the ocean, trying to see the little blips of white on the horizon as far as she could, hoping that she could draw them closer, maybe draw herself close, her old self, the one that still cares. And when those blips stop, she turns back to face her friends to paint on her smile, feeling that all of her blooms are sinking somewhere off in the distance.
Brian Moylan , 2024-02-08 02:00:05
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