Real Housewives of New York

Jill Zarin: Real Housewives of New York Recap

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This week on Real Housewives of New York Jill Zarin made her triumphant return, Ramona went off the rails, and Tinsley looked for an apartment. 


As snow and ice pelted the grounds of Dorinda’s Berkshires mansion her two most cutthroat guests remained in the blue room. They had already spent 15 minutes picking away at each other’s skin, however the real stabbing had yet to begin.

“Are you kidding me?” Ramona asked Bethenny no less than four times. She was puzzled how Bethenny could have forgotten the great fibroid disaster of 2016. “Let’s break this down,” replied Bethenny, “how about the time on the Brooklyn Bridge when you told me I would end up alone? What about the time you stole two dresses from my sheath collection? Is that your idea of being a good friend?” Ramona gasped. She had prided herself on being there for the 55 women she invited to her let’s Celebrate Ramona breakfast each year. “It’s not my fault you were topless on TV kissing another woman on a waterbed,” yelled Ramona. “You really are crazy,” she added.

Bethenny wasn’t crazy. She was in fact more centered then she had ever been in her life. “I get it,” she whispered under her breath. “This is about resentment.” Ramona had visited her that summer in the Hamptons and had never mentioned her concern about a Skinemax movie she’d made in the 80s in front of her boyfriend Dennis. “You waited until you had an audience,” explained Bethenny. Presumably she had been waiting for that moment all summer long. Ramona had by then stood up and began walking circles around the upholstered sofa. She tugged on her sweater, but left the sweat beads and body shakes alone. “I am a self made woman,” Ramona explained citing how she had been on her own since she was 16. “You slept your way to the top.” 


Bethenny gathered her thoughts. Had she really slept her way to the top of the cocktail empire? “I didn’t fu-k my way to the top. I can’t even fu-k my way to the middle. Someone help me fu-k my way to the ground level.” Somewhere behind a brick wall a soundman and a producer held each other in their arms as they jumped up and down. The words were lost on Ramona.

Bethenny highlighted how Ramona had married young and for money, not exactly the same thing as living in a New York City apartment flooded with smoke as you bake broccoli for your boyfriend who hates being on television. “You have no idea how hard it is to get divorced,” cried Ramona. Weeks later Bethenny’s ex-husband would be arrested for stalking her. So, yeah, she understood all to well what it was like to get divorced. Does Mario haunt your dreams? He may have banged a 24 year old at the gym, but at least he isn’t harassing you.

This was really about jealousy and Bethenny knew this. They had all taken such glory in the years she could barely afford a paddleboard lesson. She had a financial windfall placing herself on the cover of Forbes Magazine. They were amped to be on the cover of Hamptons Monthly.

Ramona wanted it to be clear she was the first to get into the wine business. “How many cases of wine have you sold this year?” Bethenny asked. “I sold 10,000 case in my first year,” Ramona replied. Bethenny wondered if she had read those figures in Delusional Week. “Your businesses are failing!” screamed Ramona. She was wrong. Bethenny didn’t have the energy to go through her list of real estate purchases and the number of sling back and clutch purses in her walk-in closet. Bethenny slept on piles of cash. Ramona was splitting her coins with a man who sold religious necklaces.


“You are an opportunist,” said Ramona. “Then why are you kissing my ass?” asked Bethenny. “I love people,” said Ramona, which was clear from the way she never asked anyone questions, stole their property, and harassed them weeks before their marital unions. Bethenny stood up and declared she was leaving. “Wow, great party, yet again,” she told Dorinda as she reminded herself to never set forth in that county again. It was fine, her driver Kevin slept in the Suburban outside Dorinda’s home in case of emergencies. She could sleep in the car; it wasn’t worth another night in the Hell House.

Carole wanted to tag along. She had little to do in that house if Bethenny were gone, and the Uber back to the city would cost too much. “Just know she says you are boring,” Ramona told Carole. “I am pretty sure that didn’t happen,” replied Carole. Even Sonja, who had been so wasted the night before that she fell asleep upright in a dining room chair, knew Ramona’s explanation of what had unfolded was three degrees north of bananas.


The next morning Ramona noted she had too much to drink admitting she was the kind of person who normally took the higher road. “Sure, right,” said everyone who has ever met her. Sonja bounced downstairs wearing a pair of silk pajamas Dorinda’s late husband purchased for her, which had been kept in cellophane packaging in the back of a closet. “Make yourself at home,” said Dorinda, “would you also like to touch his ashes?” It would take her another day to find that Ramona had ripped light fixtures off the wall damaging the wall paper and had left the bed undone with wine stains all over the fitted sheet.

Before Sonja and Tinsley went home they argued about the use of Connor, a homeless intern paid with moisturizer and stolen sugar packets, to accept her mail. “You can’t have Connor,” said Sonja. “Thank you for the life lessons,” answered Tinsley.


Tinsley considered moving into an apartment for rent in Carole’s building. It was a quaint building with an overpriced apartment painted like it was the fire station in the Boston season of Real World. She thought about it as she nibbled on weeds Adam served her in Carole’s living room. She needed to ditch Sonja’s townhouse. It wasn’t worth the headache, even if she lived in a child’s over decorated bedroom for free. But how would she leave her place of hair drying worship? Who would dry clean her clothes? Would anyone noticed her if she stopped curling her hair. People on the Upper East Side understood her.


Back in New York Jill Zarin and Bobby hosted a dinner party for Luann and Tom at Philippe. They had been friend for years, back before Luann divorced the Count and took up with a guy other women want to bang. They let Jill know Ramona was still garbage. “I have to say I miss the gossip,” noted Jill. She had longed for the days when she sat in Alex McCord’s Brooklyn townhouse horrified they had not redone their floors. She missed yelling at her decorator Brad on camera. Those were good days.

They all agreed Ramona had seen better days. She no longer had a firm tennis body or the breasts to fill a petite blouse from Missoni. She couldn’t hide behind Mario’s long arms and blockhead. She was happily miserable on her own. “It’s projection,” Jill Zarin explained. “Misery loves company.” Then they ordered entrees.

Dorinda had known these girls years before housewives. She had sat beside Jill Zarin at her anti-bullying luncheon many seasons prior. “There was bullying at the anti-bullying lunch,” said Dorinda. Even then the hatred between Ramona and Jill Zarin was palpable. “Will Bethenny be at the wedding?” asked Jill Zarin. They all glanced at her surprised she had forgotten how Bethenny had highlighted Tom’s affair at The Regency. No, Bethenny was not invited. That would be like inviting the National Enquirer to Jennifer Lopez’s next wedding.

“I think Ramona is a nice girl,” said Tom, “and I hope that she finds happiness.” Luann noted Tom was a gentleman. Bobby Zarin always choked on his meatball.


The next night they all gathered at an art gallery. Carole’s neighbor had an exhibit featuring other people in the building without clothes. Carole was delighted portraits of her naked breasts were being sold for the amount Tinsley would spend in one month on rent. “You should put that in your apartment,” said Dorinda. “That’s a bit narcissistic,” replied Carole. But posing topless wasn’t?

Bethenny ignored Ramona, which annoyed her to no end. HOW DARE YOU PUT BABY IN A CORNER! To make up for her isolation she let every person know what Bethenny had said about them to ensure their loyalty. No one took the bait.


Luann and Tom left the next morning for Palm Beach. They debated whether they would spend the night before their wedding together. “I have so many friends in town, it should be my hall pass,” said Tom. Luann laughed as she grabbed the armrest beside her. She would never let him out of her sight.


Ramona feigns regret.

Jill Zarin, Real Housewives of New York, Ramona, Bethenny

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