There’s no Sonja Morgan on “The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City.” There’s no Teresa Giudice or Nene Leakes. There’s only a gang of thoroughly unsympathetic wannabes, thirsting for whatever level of fame Bravo can supply.
They are awful but iconic. By the end of the series premiere, they’d already started a legendary fight over “hospital smell,” the key allegation in a saga involving a double amputee and a Pentecostal first lady married to her step-grandfather.
There’s only one practicing Mormon in the cast (as far as I can tell), who happens to be the proprietor of multiple tequila brands, although a handful of the women are former members of the church. The LDS backdrop is probably overused, and perhaps unfairly so given that it doesn’t have much to do with the cast’s debauchery.
It may, however, have something to do with their attempts at outward perfection, as is immediately implied by one of the women, who owns a