Post by Forever Xena on Oct 15, 2005 1:41:06 GMT -6
Here's looking at you, 'Housewives'
By Craig Wilson and Sarah Bailey, USA TODAY
ARLINGTON, Va. — Sixty people are gathered in the third-floor dining room at La Tasca, a tapas bar on a trendy strip of Wilson Boulevard here in suburban Washington, D.C.
During the commercials: Delores Van Cartier, a female impersonator, entertains the Kit Kat audience in Chicago.
By John Zich, USA TODAY
And while the $1 sangrias and half-price Catalan custard cream are lures, what they've really come for is the latest gossip on another hip street. Wisteria Lane.
ABC's hit Desperate Housewives has given birth to a cult following, and these fans, glued to two big-screen TVs here on a recent Sunday night, weren't disappointed.
When control-queen Bree slaps her mother-in-law, Phyllis — in the middle of a restaurant, no less — hoots and hollers and cheers fill the room.
Another round of sangrias, señor!
In the show's second season, La Tasca is reserving the third floor solely for Desperate Housewives fans on Sunday nights, many calling ahead to claim specific tables with good sight lines — tables that will be littered with empty glasses by episode's end.
"It was a slow start at first," La Tasca manager Christopher Novashinski says of the first season. "But every week it grew."
Now Desperate Housewives evenings are popping up all over. One bar, featured in the just-released DVD set of the first season, even held a Bree clothes-folding contest.
Chicago's white-tablecloth Kit Kat Lounge & Supper Club on Halsted Street goes one better, offering up female impersonators on Sunday nights — think Joan Crawford as a desperate housewife — to entertain during commercial breaks. Similar evenings are being held in the club's sister property in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
The Desperate Housewives evenings recall those of 20 years ago when fans gathered to spend an hour with the folks of Dallas and Dynasty.
Mary Carlson, a government contractor in Washington, D.C., says Desperate Housewives reminds her a bit of Dynasty.
"It's so unrealistic and over the top," she says. But unlike the wealthy world of Dynasty, what she likes most is that Wisteria Lane is just an "everyday community."
And though Dynasty attracted huge crowds in gay bars across the nation, Desperate Housewives seems to be attracting most everyone: straights, gays, men and women, most of them in their 20s and 30s.
"It's like getting together at a sports bar to watch a game," says Ann Collins, a secretary for Chicago's HQ Global Workplaces and a Sunday night regular at the Kit Kat. "We cheer at big moments, and we're mad sometimes. But we have a real hoot."
Last Sunday's dramas on Wisteria Lane — from the emergence of the mystery man locked in the basement to Gabrielle's rosebush hacking — caused the biggest hoots of all in the Windy City.
"That's right!" yells Collins' friend Charmel Johnson, a high school teacher, in support of Gabrielle's horticultural efforts. She leans across the table to high-five Stephanie Piedallu, manager of the Lakeshore Athletic Club.
Watching nearby at the so-crowded-you-couldn't-even-move bar were Ryan Hastings, an elementary school theater teacher, and Eric Kuhn, a computer programmer. Hastings recently moved from Charlotte and Googled a place where he could watch his favorite show.
"If you can mix half-priced martinis with Desperate Housewives, what more could you really ask for?" he says, eyes soon glued to the screen.
Even wait staffers stand silently to the side, watching and laughing, hustling food and drink during commercials when the conversation picks up and fans race to the restrooms.
Hastings used to go to local bars in Charlotte to watch Sex and the City but finds Housewives a superior substitute.
"The ladies of Wisteria Lane have totally taken over my love for the women of Sex and the City," he says.
"The women are more powerful. They get what they want."
"It is taking the place of Sex and the City," agrees Elizabeth Trace, who works in hotel sales and was with four housemates who arrived at Arlington's La Tasca on a Sunday night earlier this month to grab a prime viewing table. "There's a lot more intrigue, though, with Desperate Housewives. And the new people who move to Wisteria Lane always have secrets."
But unlike Sex, Desperate gatherings seem to attract almost as many male viewers as women. Many were brought along by girlfriends and acquaintances. In Chicago, gay men made up a good portion of the crowd. (The Kit Kat is located in Boystown, the city's gay area.)
No matter what the viewer's sexual orientation, the show's sexy, campy stars are the lure.
"I love these women! My favorite is Marcia Cross," says 70-year-old Carlos Verdecia, an editor at The Washington Times who often meets friends at La Tasca, the Desperate evenings just being a bonus. As a European, Verdecia thinks the evenings are no-brainers. "It's the perfect hangout place. People come and eat tapas and drink good wine and watch American TV."
Such gatherings enhance the viewing experience, says Montana Miller, an assistant professor at the Department of Popular Culture at Bowling Green (Ohio) State University. "People look for excuses to get together. It's healthy to have that kind of social contact," she says.
But while Sex and the City brought women together to "re-create and re-enact those kinds of friendships," watching the dysfunctional relationships in Desperate Housewives offers a different dynamic. "I don't think people are looking at it as a model. I hope not, anyway!" Miller says.
Whatever the motive, fans are showing up. Many diners didn't even know about the Kit Kat's Desperate Housewives evenings but were thrilled with their discovery.
Especially during the commercials, when the club cranks up the music and disco lights and a drag queen appears.
Delores Van Cartier, a female impersonator in a long, red-sequined gown, brings whistles from the patrons, many slipping dollar bills into her dress.
If that wasn't enough, Terese Murphy wanders the crowd, armed with a deck of kitschy Housewives Tarot cards to tell fortunes. Death is a jar of spoiled mayonnaise; Strength, Brillo pads; Judgment, a woman standing on a scale; The Devil, a cigarette-smoking chocolate cake with a woman's legs.
And helping the evening along are martinis named for the show's stars: Bree's Key Lime Pie martini, Lynette's Lollipop martini, Susan's Coco Loco martini and Gabrielle's Gone South of the Border martini.
Such evenings were supposed to be one-time-only deals. Twice at the most. The Kit Kat Club held Desperate Housewives nights for the finale of the first season and the premiere of the second. Now it can't get out of the Sunday night business.
"We don't have too much of a choice!" says manager and co-owner Edward Gisiger. "It's a staple now."
The premiere evening in September attracted close to 100 people (the club seats 75), and the next day people began calling for preferred tables for the following Sunday. Gisiger's problem now is that people don't move along when the show is on, leaving those with later reservations to wait for a table.
The club also held a "Most Desperate Housewife" contest, the prize being a $1,500 certificate for spa treatments. The winner of the 30-words-or-less essay contest confessed that if she didn't get to a spa soon, she'd kill her husband.
Erin Culbertson, a law student at D.C.'s George Washington University, rented all the episodes from last season and "caught up." Now she's ready to start the new season at La Tasca.
"It's a nice way to start the week ... and it's a nice way to fill the gap left by Sex and the City." She hopes to make it a Sunday night tradition.
Her friend Nelson Wagner, a law student at Georgetown University seeing his first Desperate episode this night, isn't so sure he'll stick with the show for the whole season. "A law student doesn't have much time for TV."
Jarrett Miller, an Army sergeant sitting with a table of military colleagues at La Tasca, sees another problem.
"Well, Sunday night football starts at 9, so ..."
By Craig Wilson and Sarah Bailey, USA TODAY
ARLINGTON, Va. — Sixty people are gathered in the third-floor dining room at La Tasca, a tapas bar on a trendy strip of Wilson Boulevard here in suburban Washington, D.C.
During the commercials: Delores Van Cartier, a female impersonator, entertains the Kit Kat audience in Chicago.
By John Zich, USA TODAY
And while the $1 sangrias and half-price Catalan custard cream are lures, what they've really come for is the latest gossip on another hip street. Wisteria Lane.
ABC's hit Desperate Housewives has given birth to a cult following, and these fans, glued to two big-screen TVs here on a recent Sunday night, weren't disappointed.
When control-queen Bree slaps her mother-in-law, Phyllis — in the middle of a restaurant, no less — hoots and hollers and cheers fill the room.
Another round of sangrias, señor!
In the show's second season, La Tasca is reserving the third floor solely for Desperate Housewives fans on Sunday nights, many calling ahead to claim specific tables with good sight lines — tables that will be littered with empty glasses by episode's end.
"It was a slow start at first," La Tasca manager Christopher Novashinski says of the first season. "But every week it grew."
Now Desperate Housewives evenings are popping up all over. One bar, featured in the just-released DVD set of the first season, even held a Bree clothes-folding contest.
Chicago's white-tablecloth Kit Kat Lounge & Supper Club on Halsted Street goes one better, offering up female impersonators on Sunday nights — think Joan Crawford as a desperate housewife — to entertain during commercial breaks. Similar evenings are being held in the club's sister property in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
The Desperate Housewives evenings recall those of 20 years ago when fans gathered to spend an hour with the folks of Dallas and Dynasty.
Mary Carlson, a government contractor in Washington, D.C., says Desperate Housewives reminds her a bit of Dynasty.
"It's so unrealistic and over the top," she says. But unlike the wealthy world of Dynasty, what she likes most is that Wisteria Lane is just an "everyday community."
And though Dynasty attracted huge crowds in gay bars across the nation, Desperate Housewives seems to be attracting most everyone: straights, gays, men and women, most of them in their 20s and 30s.
"It's like getting together at a sports bar to watch a game," says Ann Collins, a secretary for Chicago's HQ Global Workplaces and a Sunday night regular at the Kit Kat. "We cheer at big moments, and we're mad sometimes. But we have a real hoot."
Last Sunday's dramas on Wisteria Lane — from the emergence of the mystery man locked in the basement to Gabrielle's rosebush hacking — caused the biggest hoots of all in the Windy City.
"That's right!" yells Collins' friend Charmel Johnson, a high school teacher, in support of Gabrielle's horticultural efforts. She leans across the table to high-five Stephanie Piedallu, manager of the Lakeshore Athletic Club.
Watching nearby at the so-crowded-you-couldn't-even-move bar were Ryan Hastings, an elementary school theater teacher, and Eric Kuhn, a computer programmer. Hastings recently moved from Charlotte and Googled a place where he could watch his favorite show.
"If you can mix half-priced martinis with Desperate Housewives, what more could you really ask for?" he says, eyes soon glued to the screen.
Even wait staffers stand silently to the side, watching and laughing, hustling food and drink during commercials when the conversation picks up and fans race to the restrooms.
Hastings used to go to local bars in Charlotte to watch Sex and the City but finds Housewives a superior substitute.
"The ladies of Wisteria Lane have totally taken over my love for the women of Sex and the City," he says.
"The women are more powerful. They get what they want."
"It is taking the place of Sex and the City," agrees Elizabeth Trace, who works in hotel sales and was with four housemates who arrived at Arlington's La Tasca on a Sunday night earlier this month to grab a prime viewing table. "There's a lot more intrigue, though, with Desperate Housewives. And the new people who move to Wisteria Lane always have secrets."
But unlike Sex, Desperate gatherings seem to attract almost as many male viewers as women. Many were brought along by girlfriends and acquaintances. In Chicago, gay men made up a good portion of the crowd. (The Kit Kat is located in Boystown, the city's gay area.)
No matter what the viewer's sexual orientation, the show's sexy, campy stars are the lure.
"I love these women! My favorite is Marcia Cross," says 70-year-old Carlos Verdecia, an editor at The Washington Times who often meets friends at La Tasca, the Desperate evenings just being a bonus. As a European, Verdecia thinks the evenings are no-brainers. "It's the perfect hangout place. People come and eat tapas and drink good wine and watch American TV."
Such gatherings enhance the viewing experience, says Montana Miller, an assistant professor at the Department of Popular Culture at Bowling Green (Ohio) State University. "People look for excuses to get together. It's healthy to have that kind of social contact," she says.
But while Sex and the City brought women together to "re-create and re-enact those kinds of friendships," watching the dysfunctional relationships in Desperate Housewives offers a different dynamic. "I don't think people are looking at it as a model. I hope not, anyway!" Miller says.
Whatever the motive, fans are showing up. Many diners didn't even know about the Kit Kat's Desperate Housewives evenings but were thrilled with their discovery.
Especially during the commercials, when the club cranks up the music and disco lights and a drag queen appears.
Delores Van Cartier, a female impersonator in a long, red-sequined gown, brings whistles from the patrons, many slipping dollar bills into her dress.
If that wasn't enough, Terese Murphy wanders the crowd, armed with a deck of kitschy Housewives Tarot cards to tell fortunes. Death is a jar of spoiled mayonnaise; Strength, Brillo pads; Judgment, a woman standing on a scale; The Devil, a cigarette-smoking chocolate cake with a woman's legs.
And helping the evening along are martinis named for the show's stars: Bree's Key Lime Pie martini, Lynette's Lollipop martini, Susan's Coco Loco martini and Gabrielle's Gone South of the Border martini.
Such evenings were supposed to be one-time-only deals. Twice at the most. The Kit Kat Club held Desperate Housewives nights for the finale of the first season and the premiere of the second. Now it can't get out of the Sunday night business.
"We don't have too much of a choice!" says manager and co-owner Edward Gisiger. "It's a staple now."
The premiere evening in September attracted close to 100 people (the club seats 75), and the next day people began calling for preferred tables for the following Sunday. Gisiger's problem now is that people don't move along when the show is on, leaving those with later reservations to wait for a table.
The club also held a "Most Desperate Housewife" contest, the prize being a $1,500 certificate for spa treatments. The winner of the 30-words-or-less essay contest confessed that if she didn't get to a spa soon, she'd kill her husband.
Erin Culbertson, a law student at D.C.'s George Washington University, rented all the episodes from last season and "caught up." Now she's ready to start the new season at La Tasca.
"It's a nice way to start the week ... and it's a nice way to fill the gap left by Sex and the City." She hopes to make it a Sunday night tradition.
Her friend Nelson Wagner, a law student at Georgetown University seeing his first Desperate episode this night, isn't so sure he'll stick with the show for the whole season. "A law student doesn't have much time for TV."
Jarrett Miller, an Army sergeant sitting with a table of military colleagues at La Tasca, sees another problem.
"Well, Sunday night football starts at 9, so ..."