Goodbye to the OG ‘Vanderpump Rules,’ Bravo’s Most Chaotic Reality Show

As a reality TV fan, there is a strange (and slightly unhinged?) feeling of loss when the reality stars whose lives you’ve watched unfold for so many years step away from the camera. You realize that the over-familiar (and entirely one-sided) relationship you’ve formed with them won’t continue in the same way. This is how I’ve been feeling since Bravo announced that it would be totally recasting Vanderpump Rules for Season 12. The rebooted show will focus itself on a new group of “Sur-vers” at Lisa Vanderpump’s West Hollywood restaurants.

This is a bold move. Not since Real Housewives of New York — a show that was completely rebooted for its fourteenth season — has Bravo rid themselves of an entire cast like this. But it wasn’t exactly unexpected: The aftermath of Sandoval — a seismic cheating scandal that revealed a months-long affair between Tom Sandoval and Rachel Leviss behind Ariana Madix’s back — had divided the cast beyond repair. And truthfully, even before that, the show had been declining in quality for some time. (Pre-Scandoval, I even argued for its cancellation.) But since the news broke that the long-time cast won’t be returning, fans have been remembering the golden years when the show served up some of the most hilarious, deranged, and straight-up real reality TV moments we’ve ever seen. At its peak, there was no competing with the chaos of Vanderpump Rules — and that’s what made it so great.

The very first episode of Vanderpump Rules, which aired back in 2012, was in itself an iconic reality TV moment. Bravo made the decision to transition into the Season One premiere straight after the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, without a commercial break. “Day one” fans were confused when they went from watching RHOBH star Lisa Vanderpump feuding with her fellow Housewives to bossing around staff at her restaurant, SUR, in the blink of an eye. (That’s “Sexy Unique Restaurant,” to you.) “Ken and I own two restaurants in California,” Vanderpump narrated in the premiere. “Villa Blanca is where you take your wife — and SUR is where you take your mistress.”

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The original cast was held together by an air of desperation. Most of them were wannabe actors or musicians who were approaching 30 — an age where most people might think about giving up on the dream. As they tread water, they were working at Vanderpump’s bars and said things like: “The servers here all want to be models, actors, writers, singers. The servers at other Hollywood restaurants just want to be waiters at SUR.”

Then, an opportunity presented itself to get famous another way — and boy, they didn’t let it pass them by. In the first episode, we saw Scheana — then known as Scheana Marie (Now Scheana… Shay? …maybe. Her current last name is honestly a mystery) — opening the new show, making a cameo on RHOBH, where she apologized to Housewife Brandi Glanville for sleeping with her ex-husband, actor Eddie Cibrian, years prior while they were married before seamlessly transitioning into the first episode of VPR. She would later, of course, become iconic for moaning into a microphone and making “sexy noises” in a recording studio, insisting that she could be the next Britney Spears.

Then there was Tom Sandoval. Years before he blew up his life with infidelity, he was a wannabe performer who confessed to taking an hour to get ready to leave the house and whose beauty routine included shaving his own forehead with a razor. Sandoval lived with then-girlfriend Kristen Doutev—a volatile model and aspiring actress who, you guessed it, also worked at SUR. Next came Tom Schwartz—a slightly useless but annoyingly hot model, whose then-girlfriend, SUR waitress Katie Maloney (and her angry alter-ego “tequila Katie”) were feared and revered.

It is ironic that a cheating scandal eventually unraveled Vanderpump Rules because that was what defined its early years. Season One revolved around the relationship breakdown of Stassi Schroeder and Jax Taylor — the alpha male and female of SUR. Schroeder was a blonde viper who openly admitted to bullying girls she didn’t like and proudly said things like, “I am the devil.” Taylor, on the other hand, was the quintessential (and later, admitted) narcissist and liar. During the Season One finale, he dropped the bombshell that, after months of denials, he had cheated on Schroeder and gotten a girl pregnant in Las Vegas.

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Season Two upped the ante again. This time, Doute — then-girlfriend of Sandoval and Schroeder’s bestie — was revealed to have slept with Taylor behind all of their backs. In the season finale, when she finally confessed her betrayal, Schroeder backhanded her across the face and called her a “whore,” all while Sandoval stood by her side. (Seriously, there is no high that can compare to watching this for the first time.)

As the show went on, more newbies were added: Madix — a “cool girl” bartender at SUR, who became Doute’s immediate rival and later started dating Sandoval. James Kennedy — a British DJ with anger issues who was introduced as Doute’s new boyfriend (before that went up in flames, too.) And Lala Kent — a straight-talking SUR hostess with a “mystery man” from Hollywood who was bankrolling her flashy lifestyle. 

What made Vanderpump Rules fun was the sheer level of chaos on display. The cast went from enemies to besties, to lovers and exes all in one episode, week after week. They would say things like “I’m not sure what I’ve done to you, but I’ll take a Pinot Grigio” in total seriousness, do things like ripping off their (chunky) sweaters before a physical brawl in the street, or have a full-on rage argument dressed in drag. Taylor, in particular, seemed so desperate for airtime that he behaved erratically — like breaking up with then-girlfriend, recovering addict Laura-Leigh, straight after an AA meeting and stealing a pair of sunglasses on a 2015 cast trip to Hawaii. In 2017, he hit his villain peak when he cheated on Brittany Cartright with SUR staffer Faith Stowers, spawning the iconic response: “Rawt in hell!”

Others turned it around, though. Schroeder was portrayed as a villain in her first season, but she ended up with a redemption arc. In the early years, she seemed aimless and spent half her time being chastised by Vanderpump’s daughter — pushy nepo baby, Pandora — because she wasn’t writing enough free articles for the “magazine” she allegedly edited. Ironically, in 2019, she became a New York Times best-seller. Sandoval and Schwartz were asked to be (very small) partners in Vanderpump’s next restaurant, TomTom. (Although their own bar, Swartz and Sandy’s, recently announced its closure.) Kennedy has even managed to use the show to launch a successful DJ career. And this year, Madix and Maloney opened their own female-focused sandwich shop, Something About Her, to rave reviews. 

But these successes are what became the show’s undoing. Against a backdrop of reality TV that was focused on wealth and opulence, the lives of the SUR staff initially provided an element of escapism and even a level of relatability to the audience. We (gleefully) looked down on their dive apartments crammed with ugly, cheap furniture and judged their poor decisions that reflected having very little to lose. This began to change as the stars grew up and forged lucrative careers as influencers and business people beyond Vanderpump’s restaurants. Arguments became about book deals, trash-talking on their podcasts, or who was and wasn’t cast on Dancing with the Stars. (Won’t somebody think of Scheana?!) Don’t get me wrong, fans were happy to see the cast grow up over time, but as they worked to protect their flourishing careers, it altered the core DNA of the show. Without the central glue of SUR, Vanderpump’s own presence in her namesake show also began to feel awkward and clunky. 

Some might blame Scandoval for the cast losing their jobs because it divided the group and made it impossible to film together. There was a sense that the story became bigger than the show — it was being mentioned at the White House Correspondents Dinner, with stars like Jennifer Lopez and Jennifer Lawrence chiming in, and Sandoval was described by the New York Times as the “most hated man in America” while comparing himself to George Floyd. The show’s sudden cultural phenomenon status and record-shattering ratings raised the bar, but it couldn’t keep up. 

Truthfully, though, Vanderpump Rules had been losing its sparkle for a while. Despite a lot of the cast’s behavior being dark and mean, there used to be an innocence to it. In the early seasons, the cast didn’t know what was coming next and didn’t always seem aware of how reality TV worked. (This is why the back alley behind SUR, where they used to smoke and argue while on shift, deserves to be a UNESCO heritage site.) But the expectations on them soon began to change: The cast were once rewarded for doing and saying awful things, from bullying to physical altercations and fat-shaming. However, a series of scandals — including a racism scandal that ended in Schroeder and Doute being let go in 2020 — confirmed a new era of accountability where the show didn’t always belong.

In the end, the cast of Vanderpump Rules was held together by little other than their reality TV stardom. When the core relationships have disintegrated or become more about monetization than anything else, it’s a tipping point that is difficult for reality shows to recover from. At the Season 11 reunion, which ended with a slow flashback montage that now reads as a farewell, most of the arguments revolved around who was to blame for the fact that the show — their meal ticket — wasn’t going well. Some felt resentful that a scorned Madix was soaking up lucrative brand deals and other opportunities instead of focusing on losing her shit on camera. And now, they’re all looking for a new gig.

Still, it’s undeniable that the golden years of Vanderpump Rules were genre-defining reality TV. Not only did the show create its own language of in-jokes (was it ever about “the pasta”?!), but it is difficult to imagine the now-expansive canon of “hot people behaving badly at work” TV shows, such as the Below Deck franchise, without its influence. (They really threw the first Pump-tini at SUR.) Most importantly, the show is a reminder that having the vulnerability (and desperation) to share the most chaotic and messy parts of your life is what truly makes a great reality star — not wealth or status.

Since the news broke, the cast has been posting heartfelt Instagram tributes. I’m struck by just how grateful they are that their run lasted so long. To quote the show’s opening theme music: “These were the best days of our lives.”