Given how wildly expensive most things in Manhattan are—from a bagel, right on upward—the notion of actually owning property here can seem downright absurd. But selling New York City real estate is broker Ryan Serhant’s whole deal and the subject of a brand-new Netflix series, Owning Manhattan. (Basically, think Selling Sunset, but not in Los Angeles and, tragically, with no Crishell or G Flip.) Let’s dive into Episode 1 and see what this show’s all about, shall we?
- Hello, Statue of Liberty!
- Likely place for her to be.
- How did this become about death so quickly?
- I’m so sorry, but there’s something very evil-Lifetime-boyfriend about Ryan.
- I appreciate the Succession-evoking drama of the soundtrack.
- This isn’t the comparatively laid-back world of LA real estate, clearly!
- Who’s this very blond girl?
- Damn, they’re the number-six brokerage firm in NYC?
- See, I, personally, would be happy to stay at number six, but Ryan is desperate to be number one.
- And that’s (part of) why I don’t have a massive real estate holdings.
- “Plan B is bankruptcy.” Very confidence-inspiring!
- This other blond girl looks like Britney Spears, vaguely.
- It’s “Make Money Monday,” apparently.
- Oooooh, Central Park Tower trophy penthouse!
- Unfortunately, I do want to know what the “world’s most expensive penthouse” looks like.
- It can’t possibly be decorated well, can it?
- Okay, as I predicted, it’s giving “Roy family” inside, which is certainly nice decor…of a sort.
- Seven bedrooms in New York City? I’m going to vomit.
- Can you imagine how terrifying that incredibly high view of the park would be after a glass of wine?
- I, TBH, can’t think of anything less cool than “Ten Cubed,” this penthouse’s private top-floor club.
- This is “luxury scale,” apparently.
- There are only 3,000 billionaires in the world that can afford this apartment?
- This other realtor, Kayla, seems a lot more normal (for someone selling a bajillion-zillion-dollar department).
- Obsessed with the “girlies and gays only” vibe of this real estate firm.
- I’m already a fan of Chloe.
- Sorry, why is she…singing and dancing? Is this part of her real-estate job?
- This “orange suit and tiny puffy dog on a leash” ensemble is so luxury-real-estate-agent-coded.
- Bro, this Carrara marble kitchen (in New York, might I remind you again) is making me want to do class war.
- “People who can afford an apartment like this are not necessarily on YouTube.” Okay, classism!
- Do I even want to know how much this Bed-Stuy property is going to be?
- Damn, I’d go to an open house for some free peach-mango juice.
- Obsessed with Tricia, the “honorary mayor of Brooklyn.”
- Wait, she owns Polish Bar? I’ve definitely gotten a stoned manicure there! I’m in the (televised) presence of celebrity!
- “What are you doing if you don’t have a camel in your bedroom?” Wise words.
- Seven bathrooms? Throwing up again, BRB.
- I do not envy this real-estate girlie Savannah for having to run between her sugar-waxing appointment and showing her friend an apartment in “West Village.”
- I love that you basically need to spend $8K a month to get a rental with your own washer-dryer in New York City.
- Porcelain radiant heated floors???????
- The Upper West Side! My childhood stomping grounds!
- I’m sure whatever’s going on there won’t bum me out at all.
- I would really like to see Bill Hader play Ryan.
- “A $20 million deal is not the same as a $2 million deal.” More wisdom!
- Ooh, realtor contest!
- Having intrusive thoughts about Jess’s pearl headband.
- God, hearing a three-family house in Bed-Stuy go for $3.6 million doesn’t necessarily feel great from a gentrification perspective.
- Now, why on earth is Ryan meeting someone on top of the Empire State Building? Okay, Nora Ephron!
- Oh, Lord, it’s to film something for his “in-house production studio.”
- Oh, nooooo, Kayla didn’t sell the super-expensive penthouse.
- Maybe the would-be purchasers decided to donate all that money to charity instead? (LOL.)
- I know the music is supposed to make me feel the pathos of this sale not going through, but…I don’t care.
- Owning Manhattan, you’re deranged and I love you.