By R. B. STUART
Part Fifteen
All Images Curtosy BRAVO
Part Fifteen
All Images Curtosy BRAVO
With the diminishment of my cable channels since the DTV conversion….in desperation to be taken out of the reality of my life---I decided to watch someone else’s reality---in Bravo’s new show “NYC Prep” about the social agony of six city rich kids. The privileged lives of these teens splaying their parents cashola in upscale eateries and designer boutiques with cell phones glued to palm….almost brought up my nights supper.
I haven’t seen this many hair flips since Farrah Fawcett. While the conceited, player-in-waiting, Sebastian attempts to use the five French words he memorized in class on unsuspecting girls. His François Pig Latin begets him a cell phone number and hopes that he’ll seduce her out of the white cotton day-of the-week training bra set she’s wearing. It’s then you realize you may need a dollop of Prep H to sit through the hour of awkward flirting, manipulation and gossip by this pack of sniveling brats.
Between the neurotic twitches, arrogance and pretentious behavior---this clan of wealthy juveniles---makes the elite society look…well…boring. As each of them are too consumed with appearance, fashion and higherachy to foster a pinch of character.
If this is what growing up urban rich looks like---then I’m glad I grew up country poor. Only now do I aspire to a Chanel & Tiffany lifestyle….as I crawl my way up the ladder of success with splinters in my hands, averting the broken rungs and rats squirreling down below….do I wish I’d been born rich.
For centuries you’ve heard, whether people or puppies, females mature faster than males----well that theory is depicted here with these high - schoolers. As the Bravo reality cams shadow the teenage Manhattanites, who are already showing neurotic tendencies, and obvious “issues.” Using their parents carte blanche to access the art scene, black tie benefits, and front row fashion week seats----their privileged lives are suppose to glamorize teen life in NYC----but manages to make it look pathetic, as they whimper about meaningless hub-bub.
When most New Yorkers are transplants from somewhere else, these sex-tuplets, born and raised in the city, are the future of NY. They introduce us to what happens to a group of teens who are reared in a soulless urban environment, desensitized by concrete, money, smog and noise. Their psychological make-up has less to do with Bobbi Brown (pun intended) and more to do with neurosis.
I haven’t seen this many hair flips since Farrah Fawcett. While the conceited, player-in-waiting, Sebastian attempts to use the five French words he memorized in class on unsuspecting girls. His François Pig Latin begets him a cell phone number and hopes that he’ll seduce her out of the white cotton day-of the-week training bra set she’s wearing. It’s then you realize you may need a dollop of Prep H to sit through the hour of awkward flirting, manipulation and gossip by this pack of sniveling brats.
Between the neurotic twitches, arrogance and pretentious behavior---this clan of wealthy juveniles---makes the elite society look…well…boring. As each of them are too consumed with appearance, fashion and higherachy to foster a pinch of character.
If this is what growing up urban rich looks like---then I’m glad I grew up country poor. Only now do I aspire to a Chanel & Tiffany lifestyle….as I crawl my way up the ladder of success with splinters in my hands, averting the broken rungs and rats squirreling down below….do I wish I’d been born rich.
For centuries you’ve heard, whether people or puppies, females mature faster than males----well that theory is depicted here with these high - schoolers. As the Bravo reality cams shadow the teenage Manhattanites, who are already showing neurotic tendencies, and obvious “issues.” Using their parents carte blanche to access the art scene, black tie benefits, and front row fashion week seats----their privileged lives are suppose to glamorize teen life in NYC----but manages to make it look pathetic, as they whimper about meaningless hub-bub.
When most New Yorkers are transplants from somewhere else, these sex-tuplets, born and raised in the city, are the future of NY. They introduce us to what happens to a group of teens who are reared in a soulless urban environment, desensitized by concrete, money, smog and noise. Their psychological make-up has less to do with Bobbi Brown (pun intended) and more to do with neurosis.
PC, 18 (above), a Senior is the most pompus of the group. Should rename himself PT for paper towel or PJ for peanut butter & jelly. He thinks calling girls “bitches” is cool. And condescendingly addresses the others (only a year younger) as children. Attempts to use “psychological analysis” on “the children” to see how “mature” they are and if he can get them to “crack under pressure.”
See’s a therapist (needs a therapists). After he explains to the therapist he’s growing up and no longer interested in superficial partying, he interns at a photo shoot where he bares his chest and slaps a gay stylist on the ass. This behavior will be his entrée into the NYC party scene…as all jaded New Yorkers know how the city thrives on fresh, young, innocent meat. His cavalier attitude around seasoned adults----will surely set him up to be exploited.
As he begins to party with those a decade older --- and skipping school --- his desperation to be cool and hang out with what he thinks is the “cool crowd.” Will undoubtedly parley him into as lifestyle of drugs, sex and rock n’ roll---as he bankrolls their good time---he’ll learn a lesson early on. That money not only buys designer threads---but in NY---friends too.
Jessie, 17 (above), a Senior is a mini me of Mom, former girlfriend of PC and still in love with him. Is always on the fringes of anger. Has an overly developed false self-esteem, and is arrogant to female underlings. Although she does charity work, is unable to mentor. She is threatened by the attractiveness of other girls or women --- especially when PC is involved.
Sebastian, 16, a Sophomore is the most narcissistic of the bunch. He flips his hair more than a girl, plays girls against each other, while manipulating them out of their phone numbers for future dates. Uses snippets of French to lure unsuspecting teens into his web of lies. He is calculating, and pretends to “score” when talking about the dates with his boy - friends---and was actually rejected. When he could have gotten a girl to give him her panties---he blew it---because while on their date she asked to touch his hair. He was appalled and retorted off camera, “What am I a dog? Let’s pat Sebastian.” (below far left, Camille, Sebastian, foreground Taylor)
Camille, 17, a highly opinionated, articulate Junior that attends an all girls school, which Jesse threw a dig about. Most adjusted in the bunch. She’s a perfectionist, academically focused, seeks intellectual stimulation, and has a self-professed high standard for boyfriends. She admits it’s partly to blame for never having a serious boyfriend, and is succumbing to peer pressure to date. Realizes guys are “sub-par.” Although it’s refreshing to see that she is less tolerant than most girls when it comes to the boys games and B.S. Has no problem confronting PC for being inappropriate and immature. Her strength, determination and assertiveness will aid her well as her goal is Harvard.
Taylor, 15, a Sophomore is dating Cole, an outsider that attends their dreaded and frowned upon “public school.” He’s a back ground character, but the most adjusted and normal of the teens---sans pretenses or manipulations. She is soft-spoken, a vegan---and is being seduced by the ulterior motives of PC. Who if successful, will taint her purity with his evil clutches.
Kelli, 16 (above), a somewhat fragile Junior lives in the city with her brother (not too much older than she), while their fortysomething parents live the single life in the Hamptons. And briefly visit their kids once a week---I guess to make sure the apartment hasn’t burned down. Their children fend for themselves. Kelli actually interviewed singing instructors by herself. Inviting some less then desirable types into her home unsupervised. In which she was a fidgeting wreck---and rightly so. Should a 16 year old be interviewing adults? If the Bravo camera’s weren’t there I worried for her safety…as she’s a rape waiting to happen. If her parents didn’t want the responsibility of having children and parenting them in the home until they are 18---then they shouldn’t have had them at all. To me they are unfit parents. Delusional to think a young girl can live in NYC---the most unpredictable and sometimes ravaging city in the world---without an adults guidance.
So to those breeding urbanites you may rethink location---even though suburban strip malls may be an eye sore, devoid of culture and lack cosmopolitan style---rearing children in the city---may not give the fragile little seedlings the grounding and perspective needed---to become whole, healthy, well formed adults. Once you lift the veil on the raw underbelly of life in the city---there’s no recapturing that innocence---and to experience that as a teen….there’s no telling what the years of over stimulation and lack of human connectedness will produce.
Remember nature equals nurture. Animals and humans need nature under their feet to grow into the best they can be. They need to be kissed by the sun in the morning. Blanketed by the stars at night. And their joy needs to be carried away by the laughter of the wind.
Copyright July 2009, R. B. STUART. All Rights Reserved. No reproduction of this blog in any form.
