That's the logic of the thing: a hollow drift of non-events that simulate the motion of emotions, seem to suggest forward momentum, things happening that you cannot actually recall happening one minute after switching over to the rolling disaster that is the Ten 'O Clock News. The traumas add up to nothing even though they break like atmospheric ruptures in the weird psychic meteorology of these fabricated, yet existing, cliques. The dwarf stars that glide through the show now exist in a pretty strange place, acting out their lives like we all do but in a more extreme way, but without anything extreme (like unemployment or illness) actually happening to any of them. Being on TV is not even a big thing for them, simply another component in their surface self-actualization.
Sophie "Habbs" Habboo has just ditched perpetual goon Sam Thompson, but it's hard to even determine what effect this had on her if any: it was just a plot point in her summer, which happened to coincide with the filming of the Croatia junket, for which it was scheduled neatly in the first place. This is a complicated way to live. Habbs is self-employed, an entrepreneur; her job is that new thing, the CV staple that is The Social Media Influencer, a role she crafted on the back of a degree in Media, Communications and Cultural Studies, surely a legitimate way to use such a qualification. Her zone of influence is her Instagram account, upon which she reclines in expensive bikinis, skirts and drapes, gripping niche beauty products and fellow Made in Chelsea cast members, and friends. In her friction-less negotiation of tangled layers of reality and fiction -- emotional murmurs at the service of self-presentation/self-fashioning -- she is the latest exemplar of the Made in Chelsea condition that was once given the definitive model by the legendary Oliver Proudlock.
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Maybe there is nothing wrong with this at such innocent, extreme points, like Proudlock. There was no crisis in this, none of the existential angst displayed by Donald Trump in his psychotic Twitter war with the forces of the Mainstream Media, a fight to the death to wrest control of his self-image. Proudlock and Habbs can do this without any internal turbulence whatsoever; they don't even seem to be surprised, let alone confused, by the spectral, multi-layered lives they now lead. They cannot be said to be unreal, even as they shed huge chunks of their identity to whatever notion of reality can be said to be left to navigate.