Currently viewing the tag: "reality TV"

Dish It Up | Jen RoyleLast night Jen Royle appeared on ABC prime time television to cook her way onto the hit show The Taste, a kind of “Voice” format where the judges love you or leave you.  Jen and Steve Dish It Up on the food combo that got their thumbs up and what it was like to drop everything and head to LA.

The question is…does she make it to the next round?

I admit I was once a Bravo TV junkie (circa Project Runway). For the record, I did not and have not (yet) given in to any of the supposedly-scintillating Real Housewives franchises.

Instead, I was hooked to one show in particular: The Rachel Zoe Project. From her omnipresent L.A.-fied bug-eye sunglasses and hangbags that probably weighed more than she does (even pregnant) to her billions of baubles, the series always doled out more than a healthy portion of guilty pleasure.

Brad Goreski, the once-sweet-and-adorable-charming, aww-inducing Canadian-New-Yorker transplant who started off as Zoe’s third, then second-in-command, rather famously ditched the all-mighty Ms. Zoe and ventured out on his own. He started by snatching a handful of key clients of Zoe’s, including Demi Moore and Jessica Alba. Now, the charming gent has a memoir, penned by a former GQ editor, scheduled for release in 2012. Little surprise that the release date coincides with his reality spin-off TV show debut, but I’m not complaining. The more Goreski, the better.

I have to hand it to the kid, what with his tear-jerking stories of childhood bullies and an unyielding dream to become a part of the glamorous high fashion world. He made it as an intern at Vogue (a test of resolve, indeed), and then in Zoe’s camp, so he’s clearly got what it takes to weather fashion’s fickle winds. But seriously, a memoir?

For budding stylist, a rising star if you will, Goreski seems to be yet another victim of that variety of undeserved and unearned self-importance which reality TV is particularly skilled at begetting. A memoir deserves more than a yougster’s two-cents, behind-the-scenes stories, and, frankly, gossip from an industry that has been well-documented as awfully catty. Clichés abound, I guess.

Though if you ask me again in a year’s time, Born to Be Brad: Life and Style Lessons from the Front Lines of Fashion may just make it to my guilty-pleasure-reading-list. Probably with my channel dialed to Bravo again, maybe even with a celebratory viewing party with a bunch of girlfriends… Just sayin’.

Unable to fall asleep in the sweltering heat (never mind my being a night owl), I distracted myself as best I know how: had my late-night TV on, channel dialed to E! for much-needed background noise as I typed away for some SB-lovin’-n-bloggin’.

Then it hit me: a mixture of awe and fascination at the new trend the all-tanned-and-dolled-up Giuliana Rancic was peddling. Genuine snakeskin manicures and pedicures. No, not a manicure to emulate this exotic skin. A manicure OF the exotic skin. According to the pointless pundit, they’re all the rage. 

The ‘creator’ of this phenomenon, Terri Silacci, stressed that the skins are sourced ethically, all having been naturally shed. But frankly, that wasn’t the first question that came to mind, so much as: WHO THE HELL IS ACTUALLY DOING THIS?

For editorial (like the image above), it’s an incredible concept, bringing interest to one of the single-most neglected finishing touches. But what not-6’1″-and-five-lb-woman, here or anywhere, can you imagine strolling down the street with snakeskin on her nails?

Thanks, Giuliana, for another perfectly useless tip. Pun intended.