Why, at 50, I Still Watch Southern Charm (Even Though They’re Ridiculous)
I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere between responsible adulthood and knowing better, I realized I still faithfully watch Southern Charm.
At fifty.
A woman who has survived real things.
Paid real bills.
Loved deeply.
Lost deeply.
Earned wisdom the hard way.
And yet — there I am — watching grown adults in pastel pants argue about loyalty over bourbon.
Make it make sense.
And still… I watch.
Because they’re ridiculous.
Truly. Impressively. Almost professionally ridiculous.
They drink too much.
Say the wrong thing.
Date the wrong people.
Say they’ve “changed” every season.
Then proceed to do the exact same thing — just in better loafers.
And yet, I can’t look away.
Because one day — one glorious, humbling day — they are going to look back at themselves and say:
“Well… that was stupid. Now what?”
And that moment?
That’s coming for all of them.
Let’s Be Honest About Charleston for a Second
Before anyone clutches their pearls, I adore Charleston.
I love the history.
The architecture.
The soft light.
The manners.
The way the city whispers instead of shouts.
But let’s clear something up:
Most of them are not from Charleston.
They’re implants.
Transplants.
Borrowed accents and curated traditions.
Charleston didn’t make them messy, they arrived that way.
Charleston just gave them better backdrops.
And honestly? That makes it funnier.
Because watching someone pretend they’re steeped in Southern tradition while emotionally spiraling at a dinner party is peak entertainment.
Bless their hearts. Literally.
Madison: Proof That Growth Is Possible (Even on Reality TV)
Now, let’s talk about Madison.
Because credit where credit is due:
She has grown up.
She’s evolved from chaos into confidence.
From reactionary into self-aware.
From sharp-edged into genuinely beautiful — inside and out.
You can see it in how she speaks.
How she carries herself.
How she no longer needs to dominate a room to own it.
Madison is what happens when someone actually learns the lesson instead of repeating it for another season.
And honestly?
We love to see it.
She’s the rare reality TV glow-up that feels earned — not produced.
And While We’re Here… We Miss the OG Girls
Let’s just say it out loud.
We miss Cameron.
We miss Naomi.
We miss Chelsea.
Not Kathryn — this isn’t that conversation.
But those three?
They grounded the show.
They were funny without being cruel.
Strong without being exhausting.
Stylish without trying too hard.
They gave balance.
Perspective.
Actual adulthood.
The show worked better when women weren’t just reacting to chaos, but standing above it.
Honestly? It would be perfect if they came back.
The kind of perfect that makes you say, “Oh — this feels right again.”
Why I Really Watch (And It’s Not What You Think)
I don’t watch because I admire the mess.
I watch because I recognize something familiar.
That phase where you:
Think you’re charming when you’re actually exhausting
Confuse confidence with attention
Believe you’re the exception to consequences
Assume someone else will clean up the mess
We’ve all had a version of that season.
The difference?
Most of us didn’t have Bravo cameras documenting it forever.
At fifty, watching Southern Charm feels like looking at a yearbook photo and thinking:
“Oh wow… I really thought that was cute behavior.”
It’s comforting, actually.
Because growth looks a lot like cringe — in hindsight.
The Real Charm Isn’t Southern — It’s Survival
What keeps me watching isn’t the drama.
It’s the quiet realization that eventually:
The parties slow down
The excuses stop working
The mirror gets louder
And life gently taps you on the shoulder and says, Alright… now what?
That moment comes for everyone.
Some people grow.
Some people resist.
Some people pretend it never happened.
And some of us?
We sit on the couch, glass of wine in hand, watching it unfold — grateful we already did our reckoning privately.
Without confessionals.
So Yes, I’ll Keep Watching
Not because I want to go back.
But because it reminds me how far I’ve come.
Because Charleston still looks beautiful.
Because chaos is easier to laugh at when it’s not yours anymore.
Because seeing growth — real growth — is actually satisfying.
And because sometimes wisdom looks like knowing better — and still enjoying the show.
Besides…
If you can’t laugh at people learning life lessons late in linen pants, what can you laugh at?
Now excuse me while I watch one more episode and silently whisper:
“Oh honey… you’re gonna remember this.”
And when they do?
Welcome to fifty.
