Wanted: a reality check for 'Rich Girls'

Not again, another reality show I find myself hopelessly glued to. MTV does a great job of enforcing the existing stereotypes of the rich and captivating us with "Rich Girls," one of the latest spoofs on the extravagant lifestyles of the rich and famous.

"Rich Girls'" Ally Hilfiger (daughter of fashion magnate Tommy Hilfiger) and her best friend, Jaime Gleicher (heir to millions) gallivant around New York City attending posh parties, shopping with limitless credit cards, flying in private jets — and all while still in high school.

But it isn't all champagne wishes and caviar dreams. This time, it's different.

"Rich Girls," produced by Hilfiger and Gleicher, was created in part to show the real lives of the young and wealthy. "Just because we're rich doesn't make us bad people," Hilfiger says.

And this is ultimately the curse of being wealthy: Rich people are stigmatized as snobby, sheltered and self-absorbed.

Life as a rich girl is hard. Not only do they single-handedly try to end famine in Africa, but they struggle to decide which designer dress to wear to prom or in the words of Hilfiger herself, "We prance around this damn city like it's our shopping haven."

They do things us common folk can only dream of. From $1,000 manicures to treating themselves to facials made from the foreskin of a baby's penis, the rich are a rare breed indeed. Even if you have an ounce of empathy for these girls, it is quickly dissipated by the utterly idiotic words that come out of their mouths. The simple tasks of filling gas or making a burrito are foreign to them. But who can blame them; they're only products of their environment, right?

In one episode, the girls discussed why people in the Midwest don't think to match their cargo pants with a cute top an stiletto heels. Yes, it's difficult to relate to someone whose wardrobe cost more than a year of college.

Once you get beyond their shallowness, however, you realize how much these girls really want to help the less fortunate. In one episode they had an epiphany while watching a documentary about famine in Ethiopia. "Isn't there like a 1-800 dial-a-mattress where we can send them mattresses?" These "poor African kids" are starving and Hilfiger and Gleicher want to send mattresses?

"I'll admit, like hello, I'll spend $400 on a pair of Manolo Blahniks," they continue. "What is more important, a pair of shoes or a life?" All this while they continue to get private yoga lessons at their Nantucket mansion and their servants slave over a four-course meal.

But beyond the show's light-hearted humor and glitz and glamour, there is a serious message. These girls are unbelievably sheltered, only hanging out with their same group of friends who are mostly white and incredibly wealthy and spoiled. "Diversity" is a dirty word to these folks, as is "lower class" and "liberals." They undoubtedly lack the necessary skills to become productive members of society. But then again, with that money, do they need to become productive members of society?

There is a definite class rift between the rich and the poor. The rich are often excused for their rash behavior as normal, while the poor are stigmatized as lazy, welfare-dependent, unintelligent.

These poor rich girls need a reality check. I know what would keep me watching: sending them to some African country or to an inner-city neighborhood. It would be like "Rich Girls" meets "Survivor."

In no way do I envy these girls, as so many probably do who are glued to this show. I am perfectly content to eat my cup-o-noodles and ride public transportation every day. At least it gives me a sense of pride knowing I am self-sufficient.

Maybe I should pitch my own story to MTV: What it's like to be the token minority in a mostly white school, or a first-generation immigrant in America. Then finally, America could get a real dose of the reality of our truly glamorous lifestyles.

Mary Andom is a freshman at Western Washington University and an '03 graduate of Evergreen High School in Burien. E-mail: NEXT@seattletimes.com