Made in Chelsea; an (almost) reality show that follows the dramatic social lives of a select few young, beautiful and wealthy Londoners. Style and substance in a dangerously rocky balance. I will start by saying that, unfortunately, Made in Chelsea is one of my guilty pleasures. I can justify that for a number of reasons which are as follows…
– Up to date clothes, whether they are good or bad, they stay up with the trends. In the most recent episode the ladies showed off the all white trend, I mean, they didn’t particularly smash it, but it’s a friendly nod towards it anyway.
– Cheeky peeky at some London hot spots… they find great little bars and coffee shops and roof gardens! Clay Pigeon shooting ahoy!
– Sometimes it’s like watching another species; they almost look the same, but by jingo they aren’t!
– Some of their forced bumping-into-each-other situations are funnily, unconvincingly, and sometimes cringingly handled.
– They are just so damn dramatic, if you’ve had a bad day, there is usually something dramatic going on which can make you feel just that little bit better about your sorry situation.
– Great music, simple.
– They know how to throw a party, little snippets of unaffordable inspiration.
That’s plenty of excuses! I feel like a criminal, trying to defend my crime by throwing out any possible reason for my behaviour. What the last few episodes, of what is now the seventh series, has made me wonder is… is this really, I mean really, how men and women act? Whether it is or not might well seem irrelevant to a good few (thousand) viewers as it may put enough of an idea, or plant that little seed of doubt in fellow man and woman, that will encourage some watchers to judge the majority by that Made in Chelsea few. Most of the men come across as terminal cheaters and shallow fun seekers. The women fare no better as they are portrayed as relentless gossips, continually playing snide-remark tennis. It’s not a bright picture of the lives of carefree twenty-somethings. Friendships that look to be unbreakable are smashed to pieces when a man comes between them, and, similarly, men go off and sleep with their ‘buddy’s’ prospective love interest or ex-girlfriend. No, all is not well in Chelsea. It is an incestuous network of fumbled relationships. But, how true to is it to life?
It is this turbulent friendship and relationship circle that we find entertaining, shamefully so for many including myself. I have to admit that, now living in London, it may have effected my perception of men. I moved here to this big, bustling city with pretty straight forward ideas of what a relationship should be, but here I can be tempted to believe that the idea of monogamy is tossed around and swept under the carpet when it suits a certain convenience, or at least, that’s what the MIC chaps seem to suggest. I wonder how true this is? I don’t want to lose the faith that a lovely and attractive man living in London will not be part of the monogamous team. If MIC can give any view of life then it seems that, no, even when a man professes to love a woman, he cannot stay true to her. Even the sweetest man finds his lips falling onto another girl’s after kissing a different one just hours before. What I do hope is that the phrase ‘some scenes have been created for your entertainment’ is applicable to pretty much all scenes. I am aware that many of the scenes are scripted, many are invented to create that luxurious and ludicrous drama, but, it’s hard to see exactly where the line is drawn. This reality/soap love child is addictive but also deceptive.
So, I have mentioned how my collision with London and my watching that program has made my confidence in male monogamy falter, but what about the women? All they seem to do is talk about men. And I think that, for the kind of men that they discuss, who have fictionally or otherwise cheated and lied across various cities of the world, they pay them far too much attention. The women turn on each other like competitive lionesses protecting their territory. Where is their intelligence and strength? Loyalty between the women is comfortingly strong most of the time, but in the same instance, it seems fragile as shouting matches burst out in public spaces.
What ever it is depicting, true or false, it is not a great example of human nature. It seems it is hard to trust anyone of the opposite sex. Women talk ceaselessly about men and men talk ceaselessly about women. I must say, I never imagined women being a part of men’s conversations; I have often had a very naive vision that men might give a few grunting statements about women and then they’re done. Discussions about relationships and love have always seemed to be a very female thing in my eyes. If men do really talk about love and relationships with their buddies over a cold beer, then I am unashamedly intrigued!
Yes, Made in Chelsea can make twenty-something Londoners of a certain caste seem like untrustworthy and shallow creatures. However, I want to keep the hope that not all attractive and talented men in London will break your heart, and that not every MIC-esque girl in London will talk about it until the next break comes. I’m ready to discover some ‘good rap’ that will plunge the fragile stories of MIC deep into the sea of fiction, far from the dry land that is reality.