Introducing Sewage, Graffiti, and Couture: A Real Housewives Excavation
A blog where one anonymous, former-academic-turned-"writer-girl" uses her vocabulary to find deeper meaning, cultural artifacts, and comedy gold in the "Bravoverse."
If you had to pick three words to describe Bravo’s Real Housewives, what would they be?
For me, the first three that came to mind were sewage, graffiti, and couture. It is that juxtaposition between “sewage” and “couture” that makes Bravo – and particularly, The Real Housewives – the “thinking girl’s brain rot.” It is that juxtaposition that produces a “Bravoverse” of “graffiti” on the walls of our social media feeds. It is that juxtaposition between high and low culture, capitalism and feminism, exploitation and empowerment that has inspired the loathing of second-wave feminists like Gloria Steinem and the celebration of third-wave like Roxane Gay. It is that juxtaposition that has inspired countless – and I mean COUNTLESS – podcasts, books, vlogs, substacks, and of course, social media accounts and comments. So why do I feel the need to add my seemingly obscure (and verbose) voice to the cacophony of noise, images, and words within the current Bravoverse?
Because missing in this Bravoverse is the voice of the anonymous Carole. The writer girl who cannot afford to go public with their deep love, encyclopedic knowledge, and nuanced opinions about these “guilty pleasures” for fear of being cast off as unserious and unprofessional. For fear of being viewed by their colleagues, their families, and even their friends as a “basic bitch” i.e., a bitch without something meaningful to contribute.
These “writer girls” are not all girls and many do not consider themselves writers. Nor do all “Caroles” identify with Carole Radziwill – an incredibly privileged, white, cis-gendered, female news producer turned Kennedy-adjacent widow turned author turned housewife turned vibrator-necklace tycoon. Rather than being a specific person defined by a limited positionality, the writer girl is an ethos, and Carole is a vibe.
The anonymous writer girls - the “Caroles” - are a band of intelligent, witty, deep-thinking, creative misfits who watch The Real Housewives, Bravo, and reality television not only ironically but critically. Who use their professional, personal, and educational backgrounds to see these “characters” - these living, breathing people we call Bravolebs - as not just objects of study or admiration. But as people who should be understood and “read” in context. These are the writer girls who engage seriously in this discourse without taking themselves seriously at all. These are the writer girls who “get it.” These are the writer girls that need to be heard.
This is not to say that the Bravoverse is devoid of nuanced, thoughtful, and creative critique. In our times of need, the writer girl turns towards the “Bravoverse professionals,” people like Brian Moylan, Sarah Galli, Casey Wilson and Danielle Schneider, Kiki Monique,
, , , and the myriad of other talented, Bravo content creators, reporters, comedians, and academics who have emerged and spoken the words we anonymous Caroles only wish we could afford to say out loud. But where in the Bravoverse can these anonymous, “deep thinking” fans of Bravo, these Caroles, publicly think for themselves? Where were their voices on social media, the seemly barren wasteland from which nuance has long disappeared (if it ever existed there in the first place)? Where was the collective voice of the writer girls – the ones who “used their vocabulary” and preferred 100 words when 10 would do because frankly, words just felt like more impactful vessels to describe the complexities of the Bravoverse rather than simply a well-timed meme? (Though those can be great too…)
Before the rise of content creators monetizing off increasingly mainstream (and corporate-dominated) fan cultures, fandom was considered the land of nerds. Specifically, the young male nerd. The fan reader, philosopher, and scribe who appeared stuck in a state of seemingly arrested development, perhaps best illustrated by Jeff Albertson, the comic book guy from The Simpsons (who no, I did not know had a first let alone last name before I wrote this essay). When women entered fandom en masse in the age of book clubs and later, romance and fantasy fan fiction, they were often framed as horny, lonely spinsters. Ones who could similarly only fantasize about the objects of their fetishization rather than obtain them. They were dismissed as simply hysterical. Thirsty. Or as Bravo’s marketing likes to suggest, a world full of “aspirants.”
Now, the dominant voices in the Bravoverse are not the ladies of the book club nor the fan fiction forums but rather the stans of social media. The term “stan” has become so commonplace in fan culture that we often forget its etymology. Stan was the name given by Eminem to describe an archetypical, crazed fan who becomes so frustrated that his voice was not heard by his idol that he lashed out violently, first in his words and then finally, against his girlfriend and himself. Stan was a word used to describe the danger of the parasocial relationships we have with celebrities. Now it is a word used to celebrate it. It is a word commandeered on the banners of fan “armies” to fight for their Kings, their Queens, the Royal Beys, and their Tays. It is a word used often with pride by the Tre Huggers, the Sluttons, and whatever Kyle fans call themselves (the Kai Kais?). It is these stan armies that dismiss any call for nuance or meaningful discussion within our Bravoverse with either a meme of support or a downvote of distain. And when these symbols of their values are not enough, sometimes, like Eminem’s Stan, the stans of the Bravoverse have been known to lash out in threatening and even violent ways.
It is not an original idea to denounce standom as toxic, not even in the Bravoverse. Nonetheless, a large gap remains in the Bravoverse between the frequency we will critique stans versus the frequency we will celebrate its anonymous writer girls. Thus, as much as we appreciate our professionals describing our complex thoughts and feelings out loud, we, the Caroles, also need the spaces, places, and confidence to express ourselves - in writing - as members of this Bravo community. It is, after all, the Caroles - the misfits, nerds, and geeks emerging from disenfranchised populations across the gender, sexuality, race, class, and ability spectrum - who built this fandom out of a deep, abiding love of Bravo. Not a love for the corporate entity owned by NBC-Comcast-Universal-PepsiCo-Haliburton-Skynet-Toyota-Trader Joe’s, but rather the Bravo which for years was the only network that showcased women and gay men – its core audience – as the fullest version of themselves. (Or at least the fullest versions they could see on TV.)
Yet, still missing from the Bravoverse algorithm is recognition for the world of voracious, creative, nuanced, and sensitive artists, writers, readers, academics, and thinkers at the heart of this fandom. We, the writer girls, are a community that can be so incredible with our words when we feel safe to express them publicly without ridicule or the dreaded “TL/DR.” We are a community that deserves to have our written work seen in the light of day rather than read in the shadows of our Bravoholic group texts. We are an underrepresented community of Bravo deep thinkers, readers, and writers that have earned the right - nay, the wright! - to have a seat at the Bravoverse table.
So it was on a whim while sick at home on a cold, winter day that I started a Reddit sub called r/real_writers_of_bravo to find others who may be willing to “start getting real” (while still remaining relatively polite). A world for these deep thinkers, readers, and writers of Bravo. A world full of not just Caroles, but for Dr. Wendys, Garcelles, Tiffany Moons, Nicoles, of … well, I was about to say Phaedras but I don’t love the sex dungeon of it all … you get what I mean! The unapologetically critical, smart, witty and NERDY fans of the Real Housewives and the Bravoverse. (Is there a Salt Lake City equivalent of Carole? Is it Heather? These are deep thoughts we can talk about here and on Reddit. In as many incomplete sentences, musical theatre puns, and parenthetical asides as you need.)
While I was guessing maybe a dozen people would join me, within less than eight hours, we had 100 “Caroles” or sub-members. As I write this, less than a week later, we have stood firm around 250. There are more of us out there than we – or the network – give us credit for. And based upon the comments and DMs, so many of us not only wanted but NEEDED this community to exist. As one Reddit user put more succinctly than I ever could: “I finally found my PEOPLE!”
Yet, as the week went on, while the numbers of “Caroles” kept going up, the posts and comments came in a trickle. While I initially thought, “I’ll just write a few posts so people catch onto the vibe, then all of these starved Caroles will flood the place with their own content,” I noticed a pervasive phenomenon amongst us: the growth of Lurking Lus. Now, Lurking Lus are as wonderful, smart, sensitive, witty, and creative as the Curious and Courageous Caroles of the world. They just sometimes need a little more time, space, and energy to make their thoughts come out in written prose. And that is okay. Yet, for a week, the former teacher in me became obsessed with getting every Lu to contribute their ideas out loud to RWOB, and in the process, I began to feel like a carnival barker. I began to feel like a Scheana. And I truly have never been a Scheana. (Though as you can tell, I am sometimes a Dorit.)
So it was only when I was writing what felt my 900th plea to post so I could go back to my “real work” that I began to truly ask myself why this all mattered to me so deeply. Why wasn’t it enough for me to have a space to share my own thoughts and ideas? Why wasn’t it enough for me to merely just write into the void, hoping that at least one person will appreciate it? Why did I need this community so badly to contribute? To not only read but to write their own burning questions, op eds, think pieces, and original work? Why did I need this conversation to happen at all let alone with perfectly anonymous strangers?
In retrospect, even though I started this project on a whim, I always intended this project to help build the Bravoverse into a nuanced discourse rather than a one-sided conversation. I wanted (and still want) the rise of the Bravo Intelligentsia who do not take themselves too seriously (or you know, start a whole Soviet-style communist revolt). Thus, I began to imagine an alternative Bravoverse which I lovingly (and repeatedly) have called “Lake RWOB,” evoking to me the image of a writer’s commune set somewhere in the wooded foothills under the shadow of the distant Mount Cohen. A safe space where the loveable, smart, and sensitive misfits of the Bravoverse could exchange our art, our ideas, our wisdom, our wit, and most importantly, our encyclopedic knowledge of the stars of our screens and the apples (and oranges and peaches and diamonds and mojitos and champagne flutes and imaginary turnpikes?) of our eyes: the Housewives.
In this idyllic Bravoverse of Lake RWOB, the Housewives can be connected to everything from classic Hollywood films to modern day politics, from critical theory to unserious conjecture, from Dadaism to Banksby, from Sondheim to Courtney Love. In fact, Lake RWOB has already had its own meta murder mystery of our first town scribe – a fantastic fan fiction writer who disappeared faster than I could hit “post” – leaving us only with their great, unfinished work, Ramona Blue (a delusional fan fiction fantasy). However, despite the loss of this literary giant, I imagine Lake RWOB as a place where we can carefully curate a collection of Caroles and their creations. Where a true Bravo Greek chorus can write their own prose.
I still imagine this world of Lake RWOB as the community of Caroles developing on Reddit and hope RWOB continues to thrive even though I have stopped (or rather, will stop) posting there three to five times a day. In fact, when I started RWOB, I believe I publicly swore I had no desire to make RWOB into my own blog, my own monetized substack, and I still don’t intend for that to occur. So why, you may ask, am I writing this rant right now ON a substack (one that promotes writer “tips” and pledged subscriptions in case of the apocalypse)?
Well, there are several explanations. First, I am a stereotypical, neurospicy Pisces. One that tends to go with the flow of my emotions and creativity which seemingly can create chaos and confusion to outside observers, but to me, always has a rhyme or reason behind it. (Maybe that is also partially my Sagittarius moon or Libra ascending? Maybe the opposite way around? I don’t know. I am not the biggest astrology person but someone is always going to fit their sun sign to a tee, right?)
Secondly, I realized that by just sharing it on Reddit, I was falling into the trap of feeling dependent on the validation of others. Of the very upvotes/ downvotes and stats I was trying to avoid. I felt myself dominating the conversation, which was never my intent. I felt this weird arbitrary obligation that if I did not post at least three times a day, it would mean that this community would not, could not exist. I felt it becoming about me. And I never want that beautiful seedling of r/Real_Writers_Of_Bravo to be just about me, my ideas, my writing. I really hope it grows beyond that.
Third, I realized that as much as I felt pushed to write more from the external pressure of stagnating engagement data, I also felt pulled to find a place to write about the Bravoverse all for myself, for my inner Carole – a voice that I have been ignoring for a long time. My inner Carole is the writer girl who once wrote for pleasure, rather than work. The writer girl who at age five wrote a whole play in the backseat of the car on a small pad of paper even though she had severe motion sickness and vomited. Twice. The writer girl who had worked so hard to prove her voice in academia and later another career path but had forgotten what it felt like to write just for fun. So, in writing this substack as Cloacina – the Roman Goddess of Sewage, Graffiti, and Bravo – I am giving my inner Carole a name and a place to feel heard. A place in which she hopes her long-winded attempts to find nuance, meaning, wisdom, and wit in the graffiti that litters the sewage line of Bravoverse may help someone else connect with the writer girl they once flushed down the drain.
Finally, after much internal debate, I decided to make a website for people to donate because frankly, I live in the same late-stage, capitalist society the majority of you occupy where my time is money and money right now is scarce. So to justify the amount of time I’d like to spend writing about the Bravoverse, I agreed (with slight nudging from my partner, my “Andy”) to at least give you the option to pass on a tip for your neighborhood, anonymous writer girl, and in case my career burns down in the uncertain world around us, to pledge to sponsor this stack if I do financially need to create content full time. My plan, however, is to continue to write here at Sewage, Graffiti, Couture on Substack and foster a community of Bravo deep thinkers, readers, and writers on Reddit because it feeds my soul rather than my bank account.
As I continue to add to this stack when inspiration strikes, you can expect to see a combination of serious (and not so serious) original think pieces, essays, and other written minutiae that somehow connects to the high-low cultural vibe produced by our favorite television channel. There is no real limit to what I will write (nor to my word count or use of grammatically inappropriate parenthetical asides). However, expect the content at SGC to be “Housewives-forward” with a hint of humor, wit, and a whole lot of heart.
As I am still human, I hope you’ll enjoy and feel inspired by these ideas. I hope you’ll feel so inspired that you do want to participate and comment either here, on Reddit, on BlueSky, and perhaps even subscribe to this stack if you want updates in your substack scroll and inbox as well as access to the “Bravo Speakeasy,” the free subscriber-only chatroom I set up for members of the Bravo Intelligentsia to speak freely (literally and figuratively) to one another without public scrutiny. However, I hope more than anything else that in reading my work, you will feel your own inner Carole stirring, desiring to contribute to an increasingly vocal community of Bravo “nerds,” artists, and misfits. I hope if you do contribute, you truly do it just for fun. And if you do decide to put your thoughts about the Bravoverse down in writing, just remember: use your vocabulary, writer girl.
Until next time,