If you’re unfamiliar with Bravo’s reality show 100 Days of Summer, it’s a quasi-scripted program that follows a handful of alleged professionals through a YOLO summer in Chicago. Watching this show is like eating something that’s neither healthy nor tasty. Think of it as the Skittles Chocolate Mix of deep cable. It’s not raunchy enough to effectively hate watch or interesting enough to hold one’s attention, but it is just insane enough to warrant a follow-up to our initial review.
A press release from Bravo describes the show’s premise like this: “In desperate need of relief from Chicago’s long-lasting winters, these go-getters only have a scant 100 days to accomplish the lofty personal and professional goals they set for themselves.”
So, in the spirit of hurried timelines and “lofty” objectives, let’s take a look at what these “go-getters” were able to accomplish during the hot season.
Phillips, Fashion Designer
Phillips’ goal for the summer is to do “what she was put on earth to do,” which apparently means selling matching ties for you and your dog at a $165 price point. Burdened with the task of launching her clothing line for dogs/people who get beat up at the kennel/workplace, Phillips is unable to design custom shirts (read: screen print a logo on a few premade rugbys) for her cast mate Jay. In the realm of reality TV, that kind of detached selfishness between supposed friends should be rewarded.
So, Phillips’ summer gets an arbitrary eight points out of 10. Way to make the most of it, girl!
Pascale, Jewelry Designer
Pascale’s goal for the summer is to build her brand of artisanal jewelry. But she spends most of her dog days making these totally ludicrous, sweeping generalizations about the city. Like, this chick actually says of Chicago, “There aren’t a lot of different groups of people, it’s sort of like everyone meshes to form one incestuous group,” and that “you end up knowing everyone’s business.”
TF are you talking about, bae? I’ve been going to the same neighborhood gym for three years and I’ve yet to see the same person in the weight room twice. You live in the third largest metropolitan area in the United States, and it’s no Pleasantville either.
To the people who might not know better, there are 3,000,000 people living here—most of which are not staring down frenemies over a magnum of Grey Goose at Mercer 113.
That said, some jewelry dealer was hyped about Pascale’s bracelets and whatnot, so Pascale’s summer gets an arbitrary seven points out of 10.
Vince, Nightlife Empresario
Vince knows that being the hinge point of a reality show on Bravo means acting like a detestable ding-dong whenever there’s a camera around. He’s probably not 100% the vile ball bag he represents himself to be, but he did say that he likes, “very thin girls who look like they're a sandwich away from anorexia,” and thoughts like that do not exist in a vacuum.
I have no clue what Vince’s goals for the summer were, but if he was trying to market his “lifestyle branding company” (LOL) by acting like a weirdo who writes his cell number on bar receipts, then mission accomplished.
My dude Vince’s summer gets an arbitrary nine points out of 10.
Tara, Husband Deficient
Tara is moving in with her boyfriend maybe, like, hypothetically for certain possibly almost for sure in October! Shout out to Tara for locking down a dude! Life can be hard sometimes, especially for conventionally attractive chicks who live in Old Town and have trust funds, but—somehow—Tara made it work. You’re an inspiration, T.
Her summer gets an arbitrary 10 points out of 10 because duh.
While we’re probably not going to see the former Chicago Bear in a cologne ad any time soon, he did threaten physical harm against Vince in the final episode and I’m with that. Ray was incensed that Vince no-showed to an event, but Ray’s problem was trusting a guy who wears mix blend V-necks in the first place. Besides that, intimidating Vince is probably a more productive use of Ray’s time anyway.
I’ll leave it there because I don’t need this dude ripping my arms off at a Public House happy hour and beating me into the State Street pavement. This guy got pretty turnt on Vince, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that homicidal rage. I’m writing reviews about 100 Days of Summer to pay my rent. Translation: I have enough to worry about.
Ray’s summer gets an arbitrary eight points out of 10.
Jay, Luxury Apartment Overlord
In the pilot, Jay is framed as this industrialist who masterminds high-end living spaces. But, quite frankly, his most taxing summer endeavor was planning one of those corporate launch parties, where—instead of having fun—people exchange business cards and leave before 9 p.m. last call with four new connections on LinkedIn. He was also crippled with stress about getting custom shirts from Phillips, which he should have seen coming after the first meeting. And this dude has a housekeeper and vaunted cabinetry!? Unbelievable.
Jay’s summer gets an arbitrary five points out of 10, mostly because we expected more.
100 Days of Summer, a Final Thought
This show gets an arbitrary three points out of 10, with major point deductions for being decidedly swaggerless.
With a tagline of “big parties and bigger drama,” I thought these goons would be popping bottles of 1988 Krug Brut with Kanye West, Mayor Emanuel and the ghost of Al Capone at the chef’s table in Alinea. Or, at the very least, cavorting with Instagram models and mainlining Cristal on the dance floor at Paris Club. Instead, the cast of 100 Days of Summer is doing trolley bar crawls, a weekend trip to Wisconsin, and squabbling in the bathroom of a rooftop bar like a group of recent University of Iowa graduates who live in Lakeview.
SMH. When is Vanderpump Rules on?
Sean Evans is a writer based in Chicago. He's incredibly boring on Twitter, but we're obliged to provide his handle @seanseaevans.