In this week’s Season 2 premiere of “The Real Housewives of Atlanta,” Sheree Whitfield, one of the reality show’s marquee drama queens, is ready to party. But she won’t settle for just any little ol’ shindig. She wants to make a spectacle of herself.

So while plotting an “independence” bash to mark her recent divorce from former NFL player Bob Whitfield, Sheree insists that it kick off with a “grand, grand, grand” entrance.
“I would love to come in on a helicopter,” she says.
So much for the dire penny-pinching and belt-tightening happening across much of the country. In the tawdry realm of “Real Housewives,” the spending — along with the gossip, the cattiness and the backstabbing — continues at a ferocious pace. There are, after all, standards to maintain.
“I don’t keep up with the Joneses,” Sheree’s pal, NeNe Leakes, claims during the show’s opening credits. “I am the Joneses.”
Some might have thought this brand of programming would have faded along with the stock market, but Bravo’s wish-fulfillment soap opera franchise is proving to be remarkably recession-proof. The cable network recently announced that it is developing “The Real Housewives of Washington, D.C.,” which will follow in the footsteps of shows set in Orange County, New York City, Atlanta and New Jersey. Not even “CSI” and “Law & Order” multiply as fast as that.
And unlike all those dour economic indicators, the “Housewives” numbers prompt huge smiles, at least among Bravo executives. The New York version’s reunion special in May drew 2.29 million viewers, the show’s biggest audience in three seasons. Moreover in June, the New Jersey Season 1 finale, which featured a celebratory dinner that unraveled into a boisterous table-flipping brouhaha, drew 4.6 million viewers.
Clearly, the viewers love what they see.
It all started back in 2005 in the head of Scott Dunlap, a businessman and actor who lived in the mansion-studded enclave of Coto de Caza, Calif. Having closely observed his female neighbors — with their Rolexes, fancy cars and surgically enhanced cleavage — Dunlap informed Bravo that they were ripe for reality TV treatment. With network dramas such as “Desperate Housewives” and “The O.C.” already enjoying robust ratings, Bravo was intrigued.
“Basically we fell in love with the idea of having these beautiful women in Orange County, who didn’t look like anyone else on Bravo and leading outrageous lifestyles,” says Andy Cohen, Bravo’s head of original programming. “We thought it would be cool to have our own modern version of Peyton Place.”
The fans, however, didn’t respond right away. After debuting to minimal fanfare in March of 2006, “Orange County” averaged a measly 600,000 viewers in its first season. But Bravo kept the faith and by Season 3, ratings had soared 114 percent.
From there, it was full speed ahead. “New York” premiered to 1 million viewers in March 2008. Next came “Atlanta” last October and then the big hair and big drama of “New Jersey” in mid-May.
The shows typically follow the adventures of a group (usually five or six) of upwardly mobile, interconnected women, but each varies in tone and presentation. “Atlanta,” for example, reflects the diversity of its locale with a mostly black cast. “New Jersey” follows members of an extended Italian-American family — plus one feisty outsider named Danielle, who serves as the convenient “villain.”
And collectively the shows turn their nose up at the nation’s economic downturn by wallowing in wild shopping sprees, spa treatments and other demented indulgences.
“There’s a mix of the aspirational and the outrageous. Plus, it’s just a lot of fun,” Cohen says. “I think people start watching because they can’t believe what they’re seeing. Then they stick around because they become invested in the characters. If it was just about watching people spend money, the ratings would have gone south by now.”
What Bravo looks for while casting those characters, says Cohen, are “strong, independent, wealthy and opinionated women who are fun to watch and willing to open their lives to the camera. And they’re relatable on some level.”
Bravo can only hope that fan loyalty remains steadfast whenever the Washington, D.C., women hit the small screen.
“It’s a town fraught with drama and there’s a new energy and excitement there right now,” he says. “We can throw Republicans and Democrats together and watch them fight while doing their Botox.”