You know, this show would have made sense back in 1994 (when it was called Models Inc.) when the Internet was still just a way for people in the Army to send each other encrypted memos about Army Stuff and a computer with a single megabyte of RAM took up three warehouses and a hundred nerd technicians to operate the levers, or whatever. Back then, we were all provincials, living in a shadowy world of not knowing how anything worked. But that’s not the case anymore (thanks, Facebook!). Now we all know everything about everything and we’re all Tenured Professors in Knowledge. Like, I’m pretty sure that people stopped being surprised that the modeling world was vapid and miserable and morally/psychologically dangerous back when Kate Moss still got periods. And even if this show could lift the veil on the seedy underbelly of a bullshit industry (seriously, fashion and modeling are the total worst, people are starving to death in this world), it would help if the veil hadn’t already been lifted on this very show. Mischa Barton went to a mental hospital for heaven’s sake. She seemed kind of washed up and sad before that, but she did not seem crazy necessarily. Now it is official, she is a coconut, but I am supposed to put that skeletal genie back in the vodka bottle and pretend like she’s New York’s hottest new thing? Ha and also ha.

I can’t wait to end up watching this terrible-looking show (probably), because I’m an idiot (definitely)!

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