I had high hopes for the new Kelly Cutrone show, Kell on Earth. Maybe my reasons sound dumb—she doesn't wear makeup on TV! She's over 40 and hasn't stuffed her face with fillers or botulism! She's a tough broad! These are all qualities I love. I mean, when was the last time you saw someone on television without a mugful of Max Factor? Especially someone her age! Love it.
Unfortunately, the show is about as exciting as watching an elevator security cam, except sometimes funny things happen in an elevator. Like they get stuck and people panic. Or somebody cuts a fart and everyone looks around trying to figure out who dealt it. No such wackiness on Kell on Earth.
When the climax of your show involves an Excel error, you know you're in trouble. And that's exactly what happened last night. There was—no joke—an Excel CLIFFHANGER. Complete with a "To be continued" tag. Thank god those minxes don't get mixed up with Photoshop or InDesign; just imagine the hijinx!
Other peaks included a mad dash to clean up the showroom. Trouble reared its head when one of the doohickeys on the end of a rack just wouldn't straighten! Then there was the reminder of last year's fashion week firing fiasco that occurred after Kelly sat Elliott Spitzers' paid consort in the front row of one of her client's shows. We didn't even get to see that hissy fit happen, so Ashley Dupre—along with her mom and a dopey fedora—showed up at the offices to do the replay. Snore. And frankly, getting canned by some jerky fashion designer, who I've never heard of, isn't even interesting the first time around. In the retelling, it's even more boring than hearing your weird aunt gas on about her sorority days.
Then there was the manufactured gay-yenta crap—"I'm going to find you a boyfriend," Kell insists to her perfectly handsome young assistant. This dude needs help finding a man like I need help finding a donut. Especially when said help consists of scoping guys from a fourth floor window.
Someone who was actually hurting and could've used some help was one of the Stephanies. (There appear to be several.) Kelly's former assistant—now in the midst of a trial promotion—is a pretty young girl who looks like she hasn't had a wink of sleep or full meal in about a year. I've never seen a non terminally ill person look so peaked. Shouldn't Earth Mama Kelly step in and send her home for some much-needed shuteye? I have the maternal instincts of a river rock and I wanted to bring her a warm bowl of soup.
As I work at home and don't have any office interactions, I'm the ideal Kell on Earth viewer. I thought I could live vicariously through other people's power-broking and office intrigue. I fully believed it would make me miss working around other humans—interacting, having lunch, taking meetings. . . but no. Instead it showed the fashion biz to be approximately as scintillating as a mid-level insurance company and made me happy I don't have any yappy coworkers shooting me the stinkeye over paperjams. And I'll take actual felines over a gaggle of catty dames any day.