After five too-brief seasons of “Selling Sunset,” it was finally time for us to tackle the realtor reality soap — and finally time for me (Claire) to take a crash course in learning to tell 5-7 almost identical long-legged blondes apart from each other. (It’s a steep learning curve, but I can now reliably tell the difference between Emma and Christine, based on minute differences in lip plumpness.)
Like this season’s newcomer, agent Chelsea Lazkani, I plunged sans context into the cesspool of entrenched grievances that is the Oppenheim Group and merrily began to choose allies and enemies. Then I went back and viewed the four previous seasons, watching in enthralled horror as Christine’s friendships blossomed and wilted in an almost comically consistent pattern. Each season of the show is a fascinating document, constructed of lip fillers, couture miniskirts, 6-inch strappy stilettos, wedding invitations unreceived and coffee dates gone awry. Also: escrow. …
