Opinion| Christine Quinn is the most reasonable person on Selling Sunset and here's why
Selling Sunset has become a Netflix sensation, serving viewers drama, couture, and more lip filler than a garden party at the Kardashians’ place .
Obnoxiously wealthy people selling obnoxiously luxurious houses was to become my evening staple, along with a cheese board.
I, and many others sat in our worn dressing gowns, covered in crumbs, as women who were more sequin than skin tottered around houses worth a cool $10M.
The ladies of the Oppenheim real estate group in LA, owned by twin brothers Brett and Jason Oppenheim, looked like a gathering of girl bosses and I was there for it.
Not only did they manage their own empires, they also looked good doing it.
As the popular series unfolded, the scripted drama played out as textbook as most reality shows. There was plenty of backstabbing, bitchiness and hair flicking.
In fan groups there was a clear divide between two realtors: Christine Quinn and Chrishell Stause.
Much like the Aniston Jolie wars of the noughties, team Chrishell and team Christine are very passionate about their chosen side, I expect a full clothing launch soon with little hashtag T-shirts.
It was all a bit of reality show fun, with a bleach blonde villain (Quinn) who stirred the pot with her sarcastic jokes and apparent press exposes on other cast members.
Stause was cast as the golden newcomer whom everybody (apart from Quinn) loved.
Until it started to look a lot like bullying.
These women were no longer acting like bosses, and what was painful to watch – they just didn’t seem to see it.
In the age of #BeKind, is this type of bullying still a valid form of entertainment?
Whether this was a plot device from a clever producer, or the frictions were based in real-life, (as many have reported) the show’s viewers – some of them teenaged girls, are being exposed to something that is nothing short of toxic, by a group of women over 30.
Christine, who in her book reveals she has ADD (attention deficit disorder) gained her success from sheer grit and determination, after a string of behavioural problems and feeling ‘boxed in’ by society.
In the programme we see her fall from grace as the loveable bitch, to the one the others can’t stop talking about.
We see the blonde bombshell hosting lavish parties and meeting friends. But as Stause steps on the scene Quinn is suddenly not getting invited to anything, is ignored in the office and lambasted by a teary eyed Mary Fitzgerald, her former best friend who shot up Stause’s backside so fast I thought she was performing a colonoscopy.
I’ve seen scenes where Quinn apologises but never one where any of the other girls do.
Women who are supposed to be her friends talk to her of accountability – yet don’t seem accountable for their own words or actions whatsoever.
Several social situations have been marred after the girls of the office gang up on Quinn, all shouting at once and not allowing her to talk.
Stause, who claims to be ‘the most real’ person, is seen lobbying her then boyfriend and boss Jason Oppenhem to fire Christine, using her personal influence on her boss to try and determine the outcome of her professional life – something that is, well, deeply unprofessional.
As is having a five on one verbal attack at a broker’s open event, with little care to their professionalism or Christine’s work. Christine, who is visibly shaken by the interaction, at least had the grace to invite them to the work event, something many of her colleagues have refused to do.
British realtor Chelsea finally says the sentence many of us had been waiting for: "I don’t care what someone's done when I see a group of people attacking one person, this is bullying."
Newly promoted office manager Fitzgerald turns a blind eye, and instead meets with Christine on her birthday to blast her for her behaviour. She exhibits sickening favouritism towards Stause but refuses to listen to her former friend when they attempt to talk.
She turned her coat quicker than a 17th Century soldier during the English Civil War when Stause arrived on the scene, as did realtor Heather Rae El Moussa.
The women, no matter the setting, find the time to moan relentlessly about Quinn, totally missing the irony in what they are doing.
They speak of negativity and dragging others down whilst doing exactly that. El Moussa honk laughs awkwardly in the background while empanada mogul Emma Hernan and Stause almost crack their botox in an odd facial expression not yet defined in common phraseology (but there are plenty of amusing TikTok videos that example it perfectly).
Amanza Smith (our one last bastion of hope for normality in the Oppenheim group), who keeps claiming to ‘be friends’ with Christine, has no issue spilling details of their private conversations to the rest of the gang like some sort of double agent.
While this all makes for great TV, I can’t deny that it started to get uncomfortable to watch. Is this really the right message to send in 2022 about powerful women in the workplace?
For any girl that felt left out of the popular group, or lonely at school for being different, these scenes resonate.
If I were in Quinn’s shoes I wouldn’t even be seeking an apology. She was asked to play the villain of the show for ratings and that’s what she did.
I don’t blame her for speaking to the press about her thoughts, these women were hardly flying her flag in the first place.
They weren’t loyal, they practised abusive tactics such as stonewalling, isolation and gaslighting and justified it by shouting as loudly as they could how evil Quinn was.
Quinn is no angel, nor should she be, but at least she has admitted her wrongs. Sadly she is playing the losing hand in a rigged game.
The girls are close-knit, and while they have free licence to tear Quinn down, treat her as either invisible or untrustworthy, they positively melt into a pile of Versace at the slightest hint of the same from their adversary.
As a Brit I appreciate Quinn’s dry sense of humour and self-depreciation.
Her ‘crimes’ appear inconsequential in comparison to the tidal waves of social isolation and vitriol coming from a group of women who claim to ‘hate drama and negativity’.
The show wouldn’t be the same without her, her attitude is as colourful as her outfits. I can appreciate a woman that’s had a tough life, an interesting past and is neurodiverse to boot. Without her, all that’s left is a group of cookie cutter reality stars trying to flog empanadas and date their billionaire boss.
It’s shamefully addictive, the clothes are fabulous, and it’s probably one of the most vacuous reality shows I’ve ever watched – but hidden in there is a girl boss I can truly admire, and that’s Christine Quinn.
