Good Riddance, ‘The City’– Until Season 2!

Ahh, The City. Another failed attempt at giving the rest of the world a sneak peak of what it’s like to live in The Big Apple. I admittedly don’t live on the fair isle of Manhattan, but I do work and play there enough to know that once again, we New Yorkers have been failed by the mass media.

The same way they snuck three seasons of The Real World into our boroughs, MTV pimped out our streets to camera crews; consequently cheapening the mystique that is New York. They’re pandering to the tweens of Middle America, selling the idea that ANYONE can just move here, date an Australian (presumably) indie rocker, and work alongside socialites who are only employed for the duration of a reality series.

I want to be fair and give the writers of The City a shot to make the show somewhat realistic. So, here are a couple of ways MTV (and Whitney Port) can redeem themselves in time for Season 2.

Let Whitney Ride the Subway: As low maintenance as I prefer to live, even I can go a bit taxi crazy at times. The vain, lazy part of me enjoys being chauffeured around every once in awhile. But New Yorkers take the subway, and if they don’t, they at least know how to do so, should the occasion arise. If Carrie Bradshaw did it (albeit, once), so can she.

Show Us A Real New York Apartment Hunt: This is an opportunity MTV should’ve snagged up from the beginning. Erin’s boyfriend visits for one weekend, and Whitney’s all, “oh, wow, Erin, I sooo don’t mean to be in the way. I’m out of your apartment like, two hours ago.”  

Faced with adversity, what does our blond-haired heroine do? She finds a place, in a safe neighborhood, with a good view, on the first shot. Be a real New Yorker with real estate woes, Whit! At the very least, devote more than a three-minute montage to apartment hunting. I want to see some shady brokers and leasing offices and the sacrifice of three months’ rent. Only then will I be satisfied.

Learn Your New York Men: Whitney, you were born and raised in Los Angeles! LA isn’t Nebraska. Get a clue, girl. You shouldn’t be exclusive with anyone who has an accent, a band, and a fedora. Add a narcissistic, inarticulate male-model bro to the mix, and you’re pretty much asking for a ‘girl’s night in’ routine featuring hard liquor and no sex to become a permanent fixture on your social calendar. The only guy who wasn’t man-whoring up and down the streets of Manhattan was Erin’s busted Canadian boyfriend, and that was because he was a. Canadian and b. busted. Every guy in New York is up to something, but steer clear of the apartmentless, jobless, touring, fedora-toting Australians and a dry eye you will have.

 

"I left me wallet at your apartment. I'll get the next one, promise."

 

Get Laid Off: Everyone’s doing it (although not so willingly). Nothing makes you more New York in 2009 than, well, not having a job. After all, being unemployed is the new being employed! Since Port is semi-bland and neither likable nor unlikable, I vote that Palermo loses her job with DVF. Or maybe “you’re going to London” is code for, “you’re fucking fired”. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m sure Olivia had a totally stellar resumé.

Do a Dive-Bar—During the Day: Not all the time, but at least once. Maybe after getting laid off. Sometimes we get thirsty before it’s time for happy hour. Or is that just me?

Befriend Someone Who Isn’t White: This may be some absurd rumor, but I heard there are actually Black and Hispanic people who sometimes work in fashion and sometimes go to brunch and sometimes go to Tenjune. Where are they? Maybe MTV got away with whitewashing The Hills, and maybe they thought that by featuring the four types of New Yorker (blond, socialite, US import, and model), they would somehow trick the rest of America into thinking that New York really is the playground of the over-privileged they’ve had wet dreams about. It’s not some Bible Belt Utopia or an episode of Hannah Montana. At least find a token gay friend.

Other things to consider during the taping of Season 2: More black outs, less crying. More homeless people, less Olivia. More cocaine, less wearing make-up to brunch. Sounds like the New York I know and love!