I’ve realised I have an obsession that is slowly but surely getting out of control. Despite trying my hardest to walk away from it, it keeps sucking me in, its grubby yet perfectly manicured hands dragging me into a vortex on a nightly basis. My decades-old passion for various iterations of teen dramas is now back with a vengeance despite the fact I clearly jumped off the teenage train many moons ago. But I just can’t seem to get enough.
Case in point is this week: having finally finished the reboot of That ‘70s Show (it’s called That ‘90s Show, in case you were wondering), I flicked over to finally settle down to watch the second series of the reboot of Gossip Girl, which – despite my hectic work and home life – I somehow managed to complete in a matter of days.
I absolutely loved immersing myself in the frankly ridiculous and totally unbelievable lives of a bunch of insanely rich and completely vacuous teenagers, with the most amazing outfits, accessories and social lives. It’s as terrible as you may think, but my gosh, I love it.
My list of teen telly loves is long. Heartbreak High reboot? Adore it. Sex Lives Of College Girls? Devoured it in record time. The return of Waterloo Road? Delighted, it should never have gone in the first place. Ackley Bridge? Beautiful and brilliant. Blood & Water? South African teen drama at its finest. Ginny and Georgia? Utter nonsense, but truly fabulous.
This is not the extent of my viewing pleasure, either: it’s long, it’s international and I can’t get enough of it. When my other half, Andy, walks into the kitchen and glances over at what I’m watching on the telly, I’m often amazed that his eyeballs don’t fall out of his sockets from rolling so hard at whatever teenage nonsense I’m devouring.
You may think I’d be a tad embarrassed that my televisual pleasures are a bit on the, er, lowbrow side. But you would be wrong. I’m a woman in my mid-forties who loves a bit of age-regression telly.
I’ve always been a teen drama and comedy fan. I grew up on a diet of the OGs like The O.C., Moesha, Sister Sister, One Tree Hill. Now there’s a list that’s truly endless. Their teenage drama and angst always made your own seem minor in comparison. Their backdrops were always so bright and sunny and full of optimism, in stark contrast to grey England. It was comforting and gave hope for the future.
As a kid, when life seemed hard and undefeatable, these shows would bring colour and light. The bullies would always be dealt with, the shy girls would find their confidence, the nerds would win in the end, and the horrible popular girls would get their comeuppance.
But I’m not 15 years old any more, so the “hope for the future” excuse just won’t wash. Yet my love for teen trash telly has grown and developed. I still love it, but for different reasons. The love has matured into a vehicle for escapism for me. Nothing in these shows can even begin to resemble anything that relates to my own life, and that’s just perfect for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good thriller and a perfectly put together drama. But in a work life that’s jam packed full of news and current affairs, and a parenting life that’s a whirlwind of school, nursery, homework, handwriting practice and disturbed sleep, sometimes my brain is a bit too full and needs to just do nothing for a bit.
That’s what these shows give me: a dose of unreality, where I can mindlessly look at lives that are, without a shadow of a doubt, the opposite of mine. And I’m not embarrassed about that. Often people will judge you according to the TV shows you watch, and the radio programmes that you consume, as though your love for what’s deemed lowbrow is a reflection of your intelligence and class.
I have often been in social situations where the chat is mostly focused on a must-listen show on Radio 4. I used to nod along and pretend that I’d listened to it too, as that’s what the intelligent folk are supposed to do.
But I am older and wiser, and happy to admit that I find more joy listening to Magic Soul or Radio 1Xtra than Radio 4, and that I definitely prefer escapism telly.
So I’ll shout loud and proud about my love for trashy telly. We all juggle so much in the “real world” – it’s nice to dip out of that for a while. Even just for the 45 minutes of an episode of Gossip Girl, or in my case three episodes in a row, and accidentally going to bed at 2am. (Perhaps I do need to get a grip on this obsession).
