When I interviewed Kristen Taekman for my book (did you see the trailer for Ultimate Girls Trip: Glue Factory?), she said it takes three seasons for a Real Housewife to get it right. The first year is to figure out what the fuck she’s doing in all the chaos, the second season is to put some of the things she learned the first year into practice, and the third year is to refine her role to perfection. If that’s true of being a Housewife, it also seems to be true of BravoCon, which in its third iteration seemed to be nothing short of a triumph.
Last year, the early headlines out of the fan convention for the messiest bitches in the universe (I mean both the fans and our favorite ladies) were likening it to Fyre Festival. The lines for the bathroom were long, people waited hours on line for photo ops, and people were shut out of panels after waiting hours — you guessed it — on line. There was also whatever happened at the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills panel when the crowd staged a sit-in and the event was delayed while the fire marshal cleared the room.
This year, BravoCon not only moved to Vegas but left behind the cavernous and lifeless Javits Center for the plush luxury of Caesars Forum. (Not to be confused with Caesars Palace, the lobby of which was full of people in Bravo shirts Friday morning wondering where the hell they had to go to find Lisa Barlow.) At the Forum, the biggest stage could’ve fit all 10,000 people who attended each day. Everyone was guaranteed access if they wanted it. Also, the room wasn’t being cleared after each panel, so you could find a seat and park yourself there the whole day.
For the smaller stage, I heard that people were turned away just for the standing-room-only Real Housewives of New York City panel, also the only one with a snaking line. The photo ops were run differently this time with attendees having to sign up for a slot a few weeks in advance to guarantee a photo with their Bravoleb of choice. No need to spend hours waiting on line to see the Countess, only for her to show up for ten minutes of pictures. There was also a surprise “Live” stage tucked away in a corner with interviewers like Kate Chastain and Daryn Carp taking on different groupings of stars. Apparently, staffers were luring attendees to this stage on Friday because no one knew it existed. By Saturday, it was packed, just in time for Brynn Whitfield’s Louboutins to iconically break the escalator Bravolebs had to ride down to get to the stage. It was all very Sally Field in Soapdish.
Speaking of stage acts, this was the first year of the Bravos, an awards show that was taped live on Friday and aired on Bravo Sunday evening. It was just like the Idiot Oscars (complimentary) with Andy Cohen doing an opening song-and-dance number like an even gayer Neil Patrick Harris, an “In Memoriam” reel, and Candiace Dillard-Bassett giving a Grammys-esque acceptance speech as if this were a genuine awards show. I was at the taping, and the mood in the room was amped, even if it was hard to get drinks or go to the bathroom without upsetting the production. Everyone audibly gasped when Gretchen Rossi, Jo De La Rosa, Alexis Bellino, and Lauri Peterson came out to present Victoria Denise Gunvalson Jr. with her Wifetime Achievement Award. I even found myself welling up at Vicki’s acceptance speech. No one wants it more than she does, and no one deserves it more than she does.
Other wonderful additions included an expanded Bravo Bazaar (the only thing missing was a booth for Karen Huger’s three-wick candles), a life-scale model of the future UNESCO World Heritage Site that is the SUR alley, and a Sprinter van parked in front of the Con for people to crawl inside and record themselves saying “I’m visibly shaking” to put on their Instagram Stories.
Yes, BravoCon, once again, was all about the photos. It’s sort of like a giant Pokémon Go where people wander around with PopSockets out, trying to find anyone who appeared on Bravo to get a photo with them. So much is geared toward content or simply having a moment with one of our TV friends. In exchange for hosting Friday afternoon’s Summer House panel, Bravo paid for my flight to Vegas and my hotel room, putting me up in the same hotel as all the non-Housewives talent (the Pump Rules kids, Summer Housers, chief stews and bosuns, etc.). Once the attendees learned where everyone was staying, there were plenty of lobby lurkers waiting to see people coming and going, a more invasive version of what was going on at the convention center’s exit.
My new friend Justin from San Diego told me he spotted Vicki heading through the Mandalay Bay casino on her way to the Four Seasons, where all the Wives were staying. (The rumor was that the Real Housewives of Dubai demanded villas and that was the only hotel that could accommodate them. It’s not a rumor I believe, but in the spirit of Bravo, I’m sharing it anyway.) He asked Vicki for a pic, and she said, “Only if you can keep up — I’m not stopping. I’m sick of this.” I saw the picture. It turned out okay.
Because of all the changes — the lack of lines, the roomier bazaar, ample toilet facilities — the vibe was so much nicer, so much less feral than last year’s. Yes, there were plenty of people deep in their cups, but it never felt as though the scene could turn into a riot at any moment. Almost all the conventiongoers I talked to were having a ball, and those who attended both last year and this year noticed how much smoother everything was.
Of course, there were gripes. Most were centered on the “add-on experiences,” which included five Watch What Happens Live tapings (including the Bravos), a Bravo After Dark nightclub experience, and Bravopalooza events — for which fans paid $250 to be in a room with a stacked bar, the only good food at the Con, and around ten unannounced Bravolebs they could mingle with. Those who attended the Bravopaloozas were mostly thrilled by the stars in the room, but I heard that one woman complained to a staffer about not liking any of the talent and got directed to a different event. Others moaned that the rooms were too crowded and turned into glorified photo ops when someone like Kyle Richards came in and got mobbed. The point of the Bravopaloozas was to avoid long lines and allow fans to mingle and converse with the Bravolebs, but because of the crowds, that queueing (though quite orderly!) was still necessary. I also heard that some Housewives decided that, rather than interacting with fans, they would sit on the couch entertaining one another while fans drank some very expensive free cocktails. Still, Bravo After Dark got the most complaints: Fans felt underwhelmed by the number of Bravo stars in attendance, many of whom were roped off into a VIP area that Muggles couldn’t access. One woman I spoke with called American Express to cancel the $449 charge because she was so disappointed.
Luckily for those without $250 for a WWHL taping, some ancillary events started popping up around town. DJ James Kennedy did a dance party at the Aria (at the same time as Bravo After Dark, which should be against his contract). Popular podcaster Danny Pellegrino did a book signing on Thursday at the closest bookstore he could find to the Strip. It was in another town. (That’s a read on Vegas, not on Danny, whom I love.) Another popular podcaster, Amy Phillips, did a weekend of sold-out shows at a venue in Downtown Vegas. I went on Thursday, and her combination of spot-on Housewives impersonations and parody songs would give Countess Luann a run for her money (which cannot buy you class).
The thing that’s different about Vegas is that there isn’t as much competition as in New York, so BravoCon felt like it took over the whole city. As soon as I got off the plane, I saw Kory Keefer from Winter House waiting for his bags and a group of women saying, “Isn’t that Kory?” My people. On cab journeys, the screens in the back seat played commercials only for BravoCon and cosmetic Botox, a felicitous pairing. (Don’t tell Restylane, an official BravoCon sponsor.) On the Strip, Netflix took out huge ads for Selling Sunset that used Bravo quotes like “Money can’t buy you class, but it can buy you a $75 million house” and “Jessel, let us help you find the next up-and-coming neighborhood.” It’s the kind of fun shade reality fans lap up.
And that is what fans really want: to live in their favorite shows. They want to see the stars, get their pictures, and talk to people in a language they can understand. They want to whoop it up like the Tres Amigas, and they want to see Magic Mike Live (a personal highlight for me) like they’re Erika Jayne and Sutton Stracke about to get in a huge fight. (Can’t wait for Wednesday’s episode.) They want to be on a girls’ trip, ultimate or otherwise, and BravoCon is the perfect excuse to do that. You could literally feel the joy — and the Loverboys — wafting off everyone.
