Week in Review: I quit
June 14-June 20
How would you dress CBK?
Carolyn Bessette Kennedy has always inspired a certain kind of obsession. Maybe it was the sunglasses. Maybe it was the immaculate center part. Maybe it was the quiet-luxury wardrobe before anyone called it that; or the insanely chic, press-free island wedding to John F. Kennedy Jr.
Whatever it is, pop-culture has always been mystified by Carolyn Bessette Kennedy. Naturally, enter: Ryan Murphy.
His new series American Love Story: JFK Jr. & Carolyn Bessette is set to premiere this fall, and based on early press, it’s a full-on séance. Carolyn is being played by Sarah Pidgeon while JFK Jr. is being played by Paul Kelly. The Cut interviewed costume designer Lou Eyrich, who’s been tasked with reanimating Bessette’s entire wardrobe, right down to her exact tortoiseshell clips. Eyrich says she approached the project “like building a museum,” which tracks, considering Carolyn is a fashion icon.
But alas, Murphy and Eyrich already have their work cut out for them. Murphy dropped the first camera-test stills on Instagram last week and almost immediately, the internet had notes. The clothes—at a glance—evoke Carolyn’s signature minimalist palette: neutral coats, sleek trousers, a perfectly worn leather jacket. But look closer and the details fall apart. The jacket is too stiff. The pants are too cropped. The hair is too platinum.
The issue may be in Eyrich’s approach. “Building a museum” may sound well and good in theory, but that’s part of the problem. Bessette Kennedy’s style wasn’t museum-perfect—it was lived-in, intentional, and rarely styled for the camera. She didn’t wear brands to be seen; she wore them because they made sense. Her signature buttery blonde was famously done by colorist Brad Johns using a now-iconic “chunking” technique. In Murphy’s version, her hair reads more bottle-blonde influencer than understated New York cool girl.
Like Princess Diana, Carolyn’s been mythologized into a symbol of elegance, restraint, and a woman whose privacy was constantly invaded until her death in 1999. She’s the rare figure who feels both aspirational and painfully human, and fans want her legacy handled with care. Or at the very least, a little better styling. Needless to say, the stakes are high.
Murphy, of course, is not known for subtlety. But that’s what makes this one so risky. Carolyn wasn’t trying to be famous—she just fell in love with the most recognizable man in America. She didn’t want a spotlight, but now she’s getting a Ryan Murphy makeover. The drama’s guaranteed. The nuance? TBD.
If this turns into another glossy tragedy, so be it. But for the love of Calvin Klein, at least get the headband right.
America’s (underpaid) sweethearts
The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders have long been treated as the crown jewel of NFL sidelines: hot, wholesome, and choreographed within an inch of their lives. But behind the fringe vests and 1000-watt smiles lies one of the most underpaid jobs in professional sports. Until now.
In the most dramatic twist of America’s Sweethearts—Netflix’s documentary series about the squad’s grueling lives, impossible standards, and suspiciously low BMI—the team announces a whopping 400 percent pay raise.
“Sixty-plus years long overdue,” says longtime director Kelli Finglass, as though she didn’t personally oversee decades of $15-an-hour labor.
To be fair, it is a major jump. According to veteran cheerleader Jada McLean, who spoke to both the New York Times and appears prominently in the show, she was previously making $15 an hour and $500 per appearance. With the raise, she says veterans could now earn over $75 an hour. Not bad for a job that requires flawless choreography, beauty-pageant composure, and the athletic endurance of someone who gets judged for how well they smile while sprinting.
Still, before we break out the pom-poms in celebration, let’s remember: these women are still considered part-time employees. No health insurance. No benefits. And according to McLean, plenty of pressure to maintain a very specific aesthetic—spray tans, blowouts, Botox—all of which they now receive for free, thanks to what Finglass calls “cost saving measures.” I, too, would love my job if it paid me in injectables.
But the pay bump didn’t come from nowhere. Season 2 shows the behind-the-scenes push led by McLean, Armani Latimer, and other veterans who debated walking out before re-signing contracts. When they first brought up compensation to management, they were hit with a classic corporate brush-off: “We hear you. Unfortunately, this isn’t the time.” It wasn’t until the women—and Netflix cameras—kept pushing that the team finally budged.
“We are more than just cheerleaders,” McLean says in the show. “We’re talented, strong, educated women and we’re hard-working athletes who deserve to be seen as such.”
And while this is a win for the most visible cheerleading squad in the league, it raises a grim question: if the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders—who have their own TV show, docuseries, and merch lines—were making $15 an hour, what does that mean for the Buffalo Jills? The Indianapolis Colts girls? Anyone cheering for a team that hasn’t been profitable since Y2K? There’s still no union. Still no standardization. Still a culture where one bad kick or “off energy” can get you cut. But hey—at least now they’re getting paid enough to afford rent and a fresh blowout. Progress, baby.
Another one bites the dust
In Hollywood, Tyler Perry is seen as untouchable: he’s the head writer, owns the studio, controls the narrative. This lawsuit dares to flip the script.
In a $260 million lawsuit filed Friday in Los Angeles, actor Derek Dixon—who played Dale on Perry’s BET series The Oval—accuses Perry of repeated sexual harassment, groping, and professional retaliation. The details are hard to read. Dixon claims Perry began texting him after they met at a party in 2019, sending sexually suggestive messages under the guise of career mentorship. In one incident, Perry allegedly invited him over to “talk work,” insisted he was too drunk to drive home, and then got into bed with him uninvited, rubbing his inner thigh. “I’m not that sexual,” Dixon reportedly said to stop the advance. He later landed a role on The Oval, but— according to the suit—only after more alleged harassment.
The lawsuit claims Perry used his status as the showrunner and creator to make Dixon feel replaceable, often joking that any character could be killed off “if they weren’t making him happy.” here are also accusations that he fondled Dixon on set, in a trailer. When Dixon finally chose to leave The Oval and declined a writing gig at Perry’s studio, he says the retaliation became professional: silence, ghosting, and blacklisting.
Perry’s lawyer has responded with a full-throttle denial, calling Dixon’s claims “fabricated” and “a scam,” telling the Hollywood Reporter: “Tyler will not be shaken down.” But that framing—like so many Hollywood defenses before it—seems engineered to protect the myth. And Perry is one of the biggest myths in entertainment: a rags-to-riches auteur, a billionaire who built a 330-acre studio from scratch, a one-man content machine who’s too prolific to fail.
That makes this case especially explosive. Dixon isn’t just alleging abuse, he’s alleging that Perry’s entire rise-to-power narrative masked a private pattern of coercion. It’s a reminder that media empires built on personal brand can shield serious misconduct. When one man writes, directs, produces, and owns everything, who’s left to hold him accountable?
The Karen Read trial gets its finale
The verdict’s in: Karen Read is not guilty of murder. Not guilty of manslaughter. Not guilty of leaving the scene. The only thing that stuck was an OUI charge—something she’ll probably get probation for, tops. I had been following the docuseries, the Reddit threads, the chaotic TikTok livestreams (yes, my screen time is six hours a day—deal with it), and I agree with the jury’s ruling. I DO NOT think she did it, if you cared about my opinion. Or at the very least, the prosecution definitely didn’t prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.
If you’ve been anywhere near the internet this year, you already know Karen Read wasn’t the face of just a trial, but an entire internet frenzy. Read, a former finance professor and Boston-area girlfriend of a police officer, had been accused of running over her boyfriend, Officer John O’Keefe, during a drunken fight and leaving him to die in the snow. The prosecution painted her as reckless, jealous, and cold. The defense told a different story: that O’Keefe died inside the house of a fellow Boston cop during a shady late-night party, and that Read was framed to protect the local Boston police’s “blue wall of silence.”
Two years, two trials, and one very dedicated subreddit later, a jury of seven women and five men said the state didn’t prove it. She was finally acquitted.
The case had all the ingredients of viral true crime: small-town secrets, cop-on-cop politics, possible corruption, female rage, and a highly memeable defendant who knew how to wink at her camera-toting fan base. It felt less like a murder trial and more like the Boston remake of The Staircase meets BravoCon. At one point, supporters started showing up in pink sweatshirts that read “#FreeKarenRead” and flashing ASL hand signs in unison whenever she entered or exited the courthouse. Her fans compared her to Britney Spears, Erin Brockovich, and themselves. It could be me, one woman told the press. And that was the vibe of her supporters.
It played out on Reddit, TikTok, and true-crime podcasts like it was the Super Bowl. Supporters raised money for Karen Read’s legal fund, churned out pro-Karen memes, and treated courthouse parking lots like TMZ sting ops. Her father even thanked “content providers” in his post-verdict speech. As one PR expert told the BBC, “Crisis messaging today isn’t about press releases—it’s about who controls the subreddit sidebar.” And honestly? He’s not wrong.
Whether you see Karen Read as the falsely accused face of small-town injustice or the antihero of the summer, one thing’s for sure: she controlled the narrative better than the state ever did. She walked out of court with a crowd chanting her name, an emotional victory speech, and a ready-made fan base that will follow her wherever she goes next. Netflix, you’re on the clock.
Love Island USA recap of the week
America voted, and chaos ensued:
The public picked who the bombshells should couple up with, proving once again that America loves mess and democracy can exist.
Pepe → Hannah, Charlie is devastated and all over podcasts outside the villa.
Iris → Jeremiah, even though she had zero chemistry with him. Huda enters her villain era.
Paige DeSorbo’s cameo was cut short by Fiji heatstroke. She threw up in a suede turtleneck dress mid-shoot. Well….why would she wear suede to the beach in the first place?!
Huda & Jeremiah: The emotionally exhausting center of the universe
They had sex, they had pancakes, they had an existential collapse over the raw center of said pancakes.
Huda told Nic she has a daughter, in a scene so awkward it deserves a Daytime Emmy. ~mamacitaaa~
Jeremiah chose Iris in a recoupling and Huda proceeded on an incredibly concerning crash out. Huda oscillated between sobbing and shouting “pussy-ass bitch” across the villa. What will the rest of the season bring?
Ace is still acting like a relationship guru at 22:
Running salsa classes, yoga dates, and handing out unsolicited advice like he’s the Love Island Tony Robbins. Negged Chelley into falling for him. Finally.
Austin finally gives up on Chelley and moves toward Amaya. Austin + Amaya= My last 2 brain cells.
Megan Thee Stallion enters the chat: In a moment that felt like Beyoncé descending into the Big Brother house, Megan showed up to host a game and launch two bombshells into the villa. We stan a casting flex.
The “speakeasy” continues to be the most cursed room on reality TV. Why is every breakup and betrayal happening next to a sad neon light and lukewarm bottled water?
The Valley- season 2, episode 10
Quick hits:
Jax returns from rehab with Botox, a haircut, and zero accountability. Within minutes he’s more concerned with Jesse’s party than his own child.
He says he’s not giving up drinking—just “not drinking right now.” A totally normal stance for someone freshly out of rehab and mid-custody crisis.
Kristen Doute continues her arc as cast MVP, defending Brittany and calling Jax out in real time. Justice for Doute. Sentence her to another season.
Zack dismantles Jax like a Monster Energy-fueled therapist. His takedown ends with the iconic: “Not for the last 30 days it wasn’t your show.”
Brittany’s divorce papers are served as Jax wears a ‘Violent Gentlemen’ hoodie. Sometimes symbolism writes itself.
My takes:
This episode plays like a one-man courtroom drama where the defendant, prosecutor, and delusional bailiff are all Jax. He emerges from rehab with the emotional growth of a frat pledge who thinks sobriety is a temporary cleanse, not a lifelong practice. He’s still calling their house “his,” still referring to Cruz as “my son,” and still creating Finstas to defend himself online. And yet somehow he’s the victim? Thankfully, Brittany’s done playing the support group. Watching her serve looks and legal papers was deeply satisfying. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast is either clocking Jax in confessional or quietly avoiding eye contact. If this was “his show,” he just got voted off the island.
Real Housewives of Miami- season 7, episode 2
Quick hits:
Larsa and Lisa take their feud international — same fight, new time zone, one shared luxury car. And yes, the ring light came too.
Alexia breaks down over Todd’s control tactics, rented lifestyle, and fake support. “I’ve been sleeping with the enemy for eight years” is the Real Housewife equivalent of “new era unlocked.”
Julia officially demotes Guerdy from ‘safe space’ to ‘group trip liability.’ Apparently, dinner reservations now double as friendship tests.
Fabolous mediates Larsa vs. Lisa like a true diplomat, only to vanish into the fashion party crowd like a peace-seeking ghost. Bravo, book him for every reunion going forward.
Post-party, the screen fades to black... and so does Jody’s chill. Larsa accuses him of a coke-fueled meltdown and shows the girls a photo that screams “allegedly.”
My takes:
RHOM is operating like a luxury soap with guerrilla journalism tendencies, and I’m living for it. In one episode, we get Alexia reclaiming her power, Larsa weaponizing a blurry pic, and Lisa choosing Milan over her dying father and her disappearing boyfriend. The women are unwell, the editors are on fire, and the vibes are as icy as Lisa’s final runway kiss. This cast is so delusional, so dramatic, and so deeply unserious in the best possible way. And while Larsa may have gone full Bravolebrity National Enquirer with that “Jody’s eyes” photo drop, TBH: this is exactly what keeps Miami feeling fresher than a Phillip Plein puffer. Housewives history is being made in platform heels and with subtitles.
Watching?
I’m watching The Gilgo Beach Killer: House of Secrets, a new Peacock docuseries executive produced by 50 Cent (yes, really). The three-part series dives into the Gilgo Beach murders and centers on Rex Heuermann, the accused serial killer whose own daughter now says she thinks he’s “most likely guilty.” It’s pretty unsettling.
The twist? We get a full tour of the house where it all allegedly happened — and it’s less “murder lair,” more “creepy, untouched dad den.” It’s the kind of true crime that hits different because the story’s still unfolding in real time, and the trauma isn’t abstract… it’s right there in the eyes of his wife and daughter. The fact that 50 Cent is the one behind it all? I don’t know, it all just makes sense.
Listening to?
I’m a country fan ONLY IF it’s Megan Moroney or Chris Stapleton. Don’t judge. Just listen.
So close…welcome back Harry Styles
Obsessed with?
Today (June 20) marks Jaws' 50th anniversary — a movie that means more to me than I can explain. It’s my dad’s all-time favorite film, and I’ve seen it (no exaggeration) 100+ times. It’s practically family lore at this point. Swipe to learn everything I know about the shark that changed cinema forever 💙