Jenna Lyons brought a nuanced sense of style to âThe Real Housewives of New York Cityâ that changed the rules of the program. So what happens now?
Handwritten invitations, fondue, candlelight, and predetermined questions about sex â this was Jenna Lyonsâ rendition of a girlsâ night. The fashion icon and former creative director and president of J.Crew was the first to admit she wasnât comfortable with things like sleepovers or dressing for the male gaze. And yet, there she was, hosting her first-ever girlsâ night with the season 14 cast of The Real Housewives of New York City (aka RHONY) â Â a franchise known for its beauty-obsessed, arch girl-boss ethos and its unabashed adherence to traditional gender roles.
But if Lyons was uncomfortable, so were her castmates. When she asked that each of the women wear khaki, black, or gold to her special night, the request was met with reactions so outsized it was as if sheâd asked them to wear white after Labor Day (an edict that, by the way, even Vogue has now redacted). For their episode 3 excursion to the Hamptons, Lyons brought only jeans. It seemed she had her own ideas about whatâs appropriate to wear and when. Let the rift begin.
Lyonsâ appearance on Bravoâs RHONY caused a stir from the moment the new season aired. (One headline read: âThe Famously Stylish Former President of J.Crew Has Joined the Rebooted âReal Housewives of New York City.â Why?â) After spurring a âroller coasterâ of viewership, it was clear she had stolen the show. As the dust settles on what was possibly the biggest event to occupy the overlapping spheres of fashion and reality television this past summer, we can collectively examine from the distance of a few chilly months why Lyonsâ presence on RHONY is such a big deal.Â
Since 2006, when the first-ever episode of The Real Housewives of Orange County premiered, the Housewives franchise has become the guilty pleasure of millions of viewers who gather each season to voyeuristically graze on the ensemble castsâ meltdowns. (For example, and perhaps most infamously, Beverly Hills star Taylor Armstrongâs breakdown produced the crying cat meme.) Each iteration of the show focuses on a specific city. The casts comprise mostly white women, except for the Potomac and Atlanta series, which feature predominately Black women. They are rich strangers, though sometimes socially acquainted, who are brought together by the network to act out an often-scripted, highly dramatic, 14-week friendship. Central to a successful Housewives season is a well-rounded diet of cattiness, messiness, and gorgeous women in tight, sparkling dresses who live aspirational lives (though, not even necessarily as âwivesâ).Â
The second iteration of the dynasty, RHONY, was initially titled âManhattan Momsâ; it was rebranded as part of the Housewives franchise in time for its premiere in 2008. And as with all things New York, itâs front and center with its latest season leading a âquiet revolutionâ in Housewivesâ fashion.
Historically, Housewives cast members dress but arenât fashionable; rather than set trends, they often follow them. Theyâre not making waves with chunky boots at Met Galas or trailblazing oversized denims and Sambas at Upper East Side playdates. Often, theyâre playing into trends and clichĂ© gender roles. âItâs this very outdated, misogynistic caricature of what women are and do,â contemporary designer Sintra Martins, of Saint Sintra, tells me over the phone, after one of her boxy denim designs was featured on this season of RHONY. âThat women are catty and women gossip, and especially in the context of them being housewives. It barely passes the Bechdel test. It only does because the husband is implied. Heâs this omnipresent figure. The husband, while not a proactive character, is the framework for their lives. It has this very patriarchal superstructure.â
But in 2021, the Housewives universe came to a delicate pause after the New York City series was (finally) called out for its overt racism. It was a cultural inflection point â if reality television wanted to survive societyâs more expansive definitions of identity, it would have to adjust its formula. âIâm sure they [at Bravo] realize that if they continue on the trajectory theyâre on, theyâre going to be limited in the kinds of advertisers they can work with,â says Martins, âso theyâre trying to expand their audience.â
Two years later, they did. The New York franchise was rebooted. Not only was the cast noticeably more diverse, it was host to none other than Jenna Lyons.Â
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Lyons is a huge deal. (IYKYK, and if you donât, you should.) She made a name for herself at J.Crew, where, starting in 1990 as an assistant designer in menswear, she rose through the ranks to elevate a then-dying retail brand to what would become First Lady Michelle Obamaâs Inauguration Day pick. Lyons was famously dubbed âthe woman who dresses Americaâ by The New York Times, but she did more than that. In fact, she altered the course of womenswear and menswear as American consumers knew it.Â
Stylist, influencer, and founder of The New York Stylist Liz Teich describes Lyons as âresponsible for taking a masculine basic like a vintage army jacket and pairing it with something feminine like a tulle skirt.⊠So many of us tried to emulate her style. Creative directors I worked with ripped out pages from the catalog, pinned them up for inspiration, and basically told [their] crew to âcopy that.ââ
As with so many career peaks, a valley followed for Lyons. In 2011, in the midst of divorcing her husband of nine years, she was outed as queer by the New York Post. By 2017, she was collateral damage as J.Crewâs sales dipped and her personal brand steadily grew (allegedly, she was told to âstop self-promotingâ). Ultimately, Lyons resigned and spent the next several years attempting to recreate her public image. She even launched her own reality television show, Stylish With Jenna Lyons, in 2020, to middling ratings. Without a powerful position in fashion, she sank into relative obscurity.
Then, during an interview with podcast Dyking Out, in 2022, the idea of Lyons joining the cast of RHONY was born. Was it really so far-fetched that Lyons become a Housewife? Yes.
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Queer, a generation older than the rest, unmarried, and with a flair for dressing in âmasculineâ clothes, Lyons was a fish out of water in season 14 of RHONY. Add to that a rare genetic disorder, incontinentia pigmenti, that sheâs had since birth, which has left her with missing teeth, hair loss, and discoloration all over her body, and her appearance on the show feels arguably heroic. Yet, despite these factors that have, at times, âotheredâ her from the rest of the Housewives, her position as a fashion legacy still provoked thinly veiled insecurity from her castmates. There was Sai De Silva, a Brooklyn-born fashion influencer; Ubah Hassan, a model from Somalia with a hot sauce label called Ubah Hot; Jessel Taank, a fashion publicist born and raised in London; Erin Lichy, an Israeli interior designer (under the alias âHomegirlâ) who has worked in real estate for 20 years; and Brynn Whitfield, a corporate communications and marketing consultant who used to run PR at Assembly. None had the starpower of Lyons.
Yet, like Lyons, most of them had humble origins. Early in the season, they bonded over their painful childhoods during scenes that, while clearly orchestrated for ratings, were nonetheless honest and heartfelt. For a second, it seemed like the cast could transcend the âostentatious displays of wealth, melodramatic conflicts, high maintenance (and usually gauche) glam, and⊠unquenchable thirst for recognitionâ that writer Cady Lang describes as most often associated with a Bravo Housewife. But then Whitfield would do something like tell Lichyâs husband to come find her when he was divorced; or Taank would insult Lyonsâ gifts; or De Silva would call Lichyâs cheese weird, and viewers were left to wonder if theyâd imagined those few tender moments of humanity.Â
As the show unfolded, however, another narrative took shape beneath the noise of the womenâs catty antics: one of entrepreneurship. It might be tempting to label the women in the Housewives franchise as pawns of ratings-crazed producers, but the truth is, Bravoâs Housewives use the show to publicize their own personal brands. Most successfully, former New York City Housewife Bethenny Frankel sold her Skinnygirl Cocktails brand to Beam Global in a deal worth over $100 million in 2011. What makes Lyonsâ addition to RHONY so unprecedented, according to stylist and author of How to Date Your Wardrobe, Heather Newberger, is that âJenna Lyons isnât looking for relevance. She is relevance.âÂ
Existing as a fashion institution in her own right, Lyons, though clearly out to self-promote, was able to be herself on the show in ways that the other Housewives were not. After all, RHONY wasnât Lyonsâ first opportunity to bask in Americaâs undivided attention; and she certainly wasnât out to win over the fans. (In fact, sheâs expressed concern about being introduced to a new generation as a Housewife rather than the Lyons of yore.) By virtue of this subtle power imbalance, she â unlike the rest of the women â got to act kind of⊠normal.Â
Ahead of the Hamptons weekend, Lyons admitted to being insecure about having never gone on a girlsâ trip. She said, âIâm nervous that, like, Iâll be awkward. Iâm not going to fit in. Iâm nervous Iâll say something stupid. Iâm nervous Iâll, like, need alone time and everyone will be like, âWhat the hell? Why?â But, Iâm here and Iâm excited â like, cautiously excited."Â
As one TikToker put it: âI have never related to a housewife more in my life.â
Fashion journalist Amy Odell notes in her Substack, Back Row, â[Lyons] behaves in the rational way that fellow âI would never go on that showâ viewers like to believe they would behave. She projects insouciance and logic in a sea of striving and illogic.âÂ
Lyonsâ relaxed distance from the fray created just enough space to help transform what some would view as a sexist, stereotyped female fracas into a group of real women struggling to act out the patriarchal formula thatâs been foisted upon them. By being herself, Lyons became a new lens through which to view the show.
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Until this latest season of RHONY, the fashion norms depicted on the Housewives franchise have been absurdly gendered. Case in point: Much of the fuss around season 14 was Lyonsâ exceptional ability to wear pants. As Teich puts it: âNo shade to Vogue, but I do think some of the other cast this season made pants look so good, including Erin with her âIâm realâ jeans looks, and Sai's denim set that made me audibly gasp at how good it was.â (Yes, sheâs referring to Saint Sintraâs denim two-piece suit.) Teich goes on to note, though, that no one else but Lyons could show up to a red carpet event in denim and make it look so appropriate.Â
When I bring this pants phenomenon up with designer Martins, she responds, âThereâs something contemporary about the fact that you have this woman whoâs squarely female â she presents as female, she behaves as female, her gender and her sex are aligned â but she does have this slightly nonbinary element that she wears, like, jackets.â We both laugh and I add, âAnd pants!â âYeah pants!â Martins exclaims. âA woman wearing pants? Thatâs insane!â
And yet, in the Housewives franchise, itâs not so far off. As Teich is careful to note, âThe RHONY cast and women in reality shows seem to have to fit into a certain aesthetic: always a ton of makeup on skin thatâs heavily filled with Botox and fillers, hair perfectly done (often with extensions), and fitted, sexy dresses. Itâs refreshing this season to see this mold broken.â Although the other women do, of course, wear pants â it is the 21st century, after all â Lyons is the only one who consistently goes wide-legged, loose, and well-tailored.
Lyons is also, notably, one of the few queer characters in the entire history of the Housewives franchise. Alon Rivel, a spokesperson for Qwear Fashion, tells me that, â[Lyons] prompts meaningful conversations about gender identity, sexual orientation, and personal styleâŠ. Her inclusion helps pave the road for greater visibility of LGBTQ+ individuals in mainstream media.âÂ
This is why Lyons showing up on RHONY matters: Unlike her contemporaries or even her predecessors, Lyons wasnât bound by trends or traditional notions of how a woman should act or look. By virtue of the strength of her own brand, her queerness, and her situation within the more rarefied fashion circles, Lyons was perfectly situated to disrupt the Housewivesâ universe.
âI canât remember seeing more androgynous or less femme fashion on reality TV,â says Treich of Lyonsâ addition to the show, which struck me as an odd sort of privilege in the realm of reality television. When I ask Rivel about whether Lyonsâ legacy had anything to do with this âprivilege,â he says: âHer influence within the fashion sphere allows her to challenge conventional fashion norms and gender expectations. Her legacy as a trendsetter and style icon provides her with the platform to express herself authentically.âÂ
What would authenticity look like, I wonder, for the other women? Who would they be if they didnât need relevance? If, like Lyons, they were ârelevanceâ?Â
Iâm inclined to say that Lyonsâ decision to join RHONY, for all its likely benefits to her brand and her own projects, is still perhaps one of the most selfless decisions in the remarkably selfish world of reality television. She told The New York Times she âliked the idea of bringing some queerness to a largely straight franchise.â By intentionally placing herself in a situation that she was clearly discomfited by, while also using the platform to discuss her queerness and rare genetic disorder, she ushered vulnerability into a largely superficial, scripted space.Â
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Back in the Hamptons episode, after the wives confronted Lyons about her (many) pairs of jeans, they forced her to don Hassanâs tight-fitting dress. She re-entered in the floor-length black dress to their ecstatic shrieks of praise. In her talkback, as a montage of images of younger, more femme Lyons flashed across the screen, Lyons said this was how she used to dress when she was trying to attract a man. The comment reflected an almost insurmountable divide between her and the others: an expanded notion of sexuality. For Lyons, there are many ways to be a sexy woman, and not all of them involve dresses or form-fitting clothing. But that doesnât mean she wonât play the game, be it in a snug dress in the Hamptons or as a cast member of RHONY.
Earlier this year, on The View, Lyons recalled one of the reasons (related to her disorder) that she went into fashion: âBecause I wanted to look better. I was constantly trying to find ways to fit in.â But fitting in for Lyons has meant something entirely different than it has for her castmates. As a queer female fashion leader in the â90s and early 2000s hiding a visible genetic disorder, Lyonsâ experience has not paralleled that of the cisgender, hetero women of RHONY, who have, as Lyons pointed out in episode 8, âperfect skinâ and who have largely adhered to traditional feminine norms. âI think Jenna Lyons is a catalyst for a different audience to enter into this world,â Martins, who admittedly had never seen RHONY before, reflects. âI admire her and would watch the show to learn more about her.âÂ
Between Martins and myself, thatâs at least two new RHONY viewers. Yet, even as Lyons helps Bravo access a previously inaccessible viewership, itâs to the chagrin of many Housewives die-hards who feel the new season lacks authenticity between the cast members, losing its distinctly NYC vibe. Ultimately, and unsurprisingly, it seems the Housewives franchise, like many other industries right now, is experiencing growing pains as it struggles to adjust to a less binary world.