The True Cost of Selling Sunset
By: Jennifer Barnett
Tags: Reality TV Shows, Toxic Workplaces, Workplace Culture, Television, Feminism

I tuned in for a breezy escape and found myself deeply concerned about the toxic work environment’s effect on three women

Source: Netflix Official Site

*Spoiler Alert (this essay contains many)

On day seven of a record setting heat wave and burgeoning second wave of the Covid pandemic in the Netherlands, I surrendered any remaining efforts and melted into my couch with Selling Sunset on Netflix. Looking for a carefree distraction, I had no idea this show would touch on deep issues I’ve personally dealt with (and ultimately left my career over), or that I would emerge 48 hours later having binge watched the entire 3 seasons, sucked into a Californication vortex, devoid of all space and time, leaving me utterly spent.

This show will gut you.

I’m no stranger to reality TV — I’m a long-standing Housewives fan (Team Rinna, No Lemons For You, Good Riddance OG of the OC, Twirl, Twirl, Twirl) and I was the managing editor of Teen Vogue when The Hills built their fake fashion closet in the “LA Office.”

But this is not that.

Selling Sunset is a show about the lives of the people who sell high-end real estate in the Hollywood Hills of Los Angeles for the Oppenheim Group, the eponymous brokerage firm of twin brothers Jason and Brett, and the women they employ. The show starts off predictably enough — the group is gathered in their first–season caliber, modest-but-trendy headquarters for a team meeting wherein the twin bosses review the status of current business and introduce the key plot line — the new girl who is coming to join what they constantly refer to as “The Family”. The show wastes no time nor subtlety setting up the conflict between the show’s over the top villainess: Christine, a Chaotic Evil six-foot tall plus 12-inch stilettos, unabashedly Botoxed, injected, saline implanted, self-proclaimed “Gothic Barbie, Ride or Die Bitch” who demands both loyalty and fealty and bears all the hallmarks of a classic high school bully, vs. Chrishell, a Lawful Good rags-to-riches soap opera actress-slash-real estate rookie with a Disney princess mane, Bambi eyelashes and Prince Charming husband.

Battle lines are drawn, alliances formed, the backstabbing is swift and efficient, the teams parlay in vengeance and victories, and the tears are presumably salty, which is about all the flavor we get from the limited palette — we’ve come to expect more when it comes to reality TV fare. The dialogue frankly falls flat and lacks the Machiavellian stylings of Vanderpump or quick cutting intelligence of razor tongued Bethenny. The conflict is low-stakes, the drama banal. Luckily, there’s the real estate. Sleek, architectural oddities with multi-million dollar price tags carved into the Hollywood Hills with pools as sparkling as they are shallow. We get our voyeuristic jollies touring these homes, and get a glimpse inside the pretty fascinating financial specifics of these transactions.

The real meat of this show is the subtext and that’s where the trouble lies. In the first episode, Maya and Christine are both sexually harassed by potential buyers. In Maya’s case, the buyer forcefully suggests she get in the pool, get in the bed, repeatedly hounds her to go out for drinks and despite her repeatedly shutting him down “I’m married,” he flat out tells her that she needs to go out on a date with him if she wants him to even consider the sale.

Christine and Heather both call on male friends who have made it big in the hopes one of them will buy the $40 million property which is the jewel listing in the Oppenheim Group crown. Christine endures two dates with her boring but tech-money rich potential buyer before it’s decided that they aren’t going to be an item and he’s not going to buy the house. He does send her flowers to the office, which everyone gathers around to admire. (She later marries a client she sells a house to that she says he bought from her for them to live in together.) Heather’s friend has a mysterious business connection in China whom he claims — over drinks — is interested in the property and Brett and Jason take a meeting with him in the office, but later chastise Heather for not coming through when he doesn’t show up for a showing at the site and later ghosts Heather. Rather than seeing this behavior as exploitation, the Oppenheimer twins see it as a virtue. It’s great the ladies are sexy and attract men as potential buyers, even if they have to sell themselves as part of the transaction. After all, it’s all in service of The Family.

The amount of dysfunction and abuse the women suffer in a work environment justified as “Family” is appalling. They are meant to take it all in stride, and to Jason and Brett it’s all of little consequence, yet the women don’t benefit from any support that a family is traditionally expected to offer. Mary, who previously dated her boss Jason, subjects her fiancé to off business hour group dinners, and even has an argument with him about why he’s not comfortable using Jason’s house for their wedding venue. “He’s not my ex boyfriend, he’s my family”. No, he’s your boss.

Attendance at non work related dinners, cocktail parties, birthday parties, beach parties, pool BBQs, bachelor and bachelorette parties, weddings outside of the scope of work are all requirements as part of supporting the family, as is drinking copious amounts of alcohol. “No water, drink it!” demands Christine who is bullying Chrishell into submission. Even pregnant Maya is chastised for not being able to drink during both of her on-show pregnancies. Fights involving name calling group pile ons are meant to be endured as part of being in The Family.

Yet any actual support that a family might need — Amanza who is a single mother, and the only Black character on the show, struggles to learn the business and, in her own words, is doing everything she can to have enough money to feed her kids, is not extended any support or help. When she’s late filling in for Heather who can’t attend her own showing because she’s going to her new boyfriend (Tarek from HGTV)’s daughter’s birthday party because she has to drive all the way to the valley to take her own daughter to gymnastics but is willing to hustle to make it all work out and prove herself despite being set up to fail, she’s publicly ridiculed for letting down The Family. When Chrishell’s husband unexpectedly files for divorce in effect dissolving her family, The Family expects her to pour out all the details of her publicly crumbling life for them to pick over like vultures — only Amanza truly seems to offer her genuine empathy and comfort.

There’s also the business of the business. This is one area where the otherwise dead behind the eyes Oppenheim twins occasionally exhibit their expertise — they do seem to know what they’re doing — and share it, selectively, with members of The Family. Maya, who is eager to learn the development side of the business gets on-site lessons from Jason, but Amanza, who is struggling to sell her first home and needs the kind of mentoring the Oppenheim Group can offer more than anyone, is left twisting in the wind. When Maya, who is expecting her second baby and whose husband lives in Miami so she flies back and forth in order to keep her job and her family proposes that Jason open a firm in Miami so she can work there — she presents a seemingly solid business proposal based on her experience and the market, Jason dismisses her. Her loyalty must serve only one Family.

I came to care deeply about three characters — Mary, Chrishell and Amanza, mostly because I was terribly worried about them and felt each of them had vulnerabilities that were uniquely exploitable in service of The Family. Christine doesn’t fare much better — her power seems to lie in the villain persona she’s created which is fueled solely by negative attention and leaves her increasing isolated despite the transparency of how clearly she wants to be accepted and loved for who she really is underneath the increasingly elaborate costumes she armors herself with to gird herself from her biggest fear — rejection, a fate that’s likely to become a self fulfilling prophecy. She’s a beautiful bird in her gilded cage, much like those tragic swans at her wedding.

As toxic as it all was, I was hooked. The show is compulsively watchable. So much so that not once but twice I got that embarrassing prompt from Netflix asking me if I was still watching. I was. I could not look away.