Life on the Ramona Coaster (8 page)

I was successful right out of the gate because I knew how to control my cash flow and that’s what can make or break a business. My first order was from a customer who I had known for a couple of years, so I was able to ask the company to prepay me. I actually remember getting that first check for $50,000. I just kept thinking,
holy shit. Fifty grand. Made out to me.
After that, I would make sure the stores paid me in ten days. Most stores pay you net sixty days, but my customers wanted my product and I was persistent enough that I demanded ten days and got it. I would get thirty-day terms from the manufacturers and, with ten-day terms from my buyer, I always had a float of twenty days of money. These are typically unheard of terms in any business. I actually had the opposite problem from most businesses. I had excess cash in my account at all times. This was such an exciting period of my life because I was working fewer hours, making more money, and—best of all—I was making it all for myself.

I worked hard and saved my money. As a result, I had seven figures in the bank before I was even married. Funnily enough, I had my most financially successful year when I was pregnant with Avery. That year, I made three deals in a row for a quarter of a million dollars each. Profit. Usually my deals were for $10,000 profit or $20,000 profit. I believe God was looking out for me. I was in my late thirties, running my own business, and about to have a baby. I had no idea if I was going to be able to keep working the way I had been. With those three deals, I had enough money that, no matter what happened with the pregnancy or the new baby, I could take a year off from work if necessary.

Holding Avery in the hospital, just after her birth

Avery, age 4, perched on the bathroom Jacuzzi

God was truly looking out for me that year. Not only was my business stronger than ever, when Avery was four months old, we found our beautiful house in the Hamptons. I had been looking at real estate out there even before Mario and I were engaged. I have always believed in real estate. Everyone else I knew was investing in the stock market, but I came from a middle class family, I worked hard for my money, and I just didn’t trust the market. I knew I wanted to buy a home with my savings and I was confident that I had a good eye for real estate. The moment I saw the house, which at the time was selling for $875,000, I fell in love and used my premarital savings to buy it. I put my heart and soul into that house. We closed in November and, over the next six months, I invested $500,000 and completely redecorated all 7,000 square feet of the house, complete with curtains, furnishings, and landscaping. We celebrated Avery’s first birthday there the following May. This would be the first of many happy family memories in that house. I realized when my mother was on her deathbed that we both projected our sense of stability onto our homes. I must have picked that up from her without even understanding that she had felt that way until just before she died.

In many ways, for me the house in Southampton was also a “fuck you” to my father. I will never forget when I was in college how he’d complain, “Why should I pay for your last two years? You’re just going to get married and have kids.” He didn’t believe in me, not until I was well into my twenties and already had a successful career. Although it meant a lot to me that he supported me when I started my own business, it wasn’t until I bought that house that I felt that I had truly proved myself. It’s not only my home; it’s a badge of my success. Even though I bought it after Mario and I were married, he would always refer to it as “your house” or “her house.” That house became such a deep part of me. I needed it for my own identity. It was the home I never had. It represented love and became a part of my soul.

However, without my realizing it, this need for independence was slowly eroding my marriage. In the beginning, Mario wasn’t threatened by my success. He was proud to have such an ambitious, strong woman by his side. It was those qualities that drew him to me in the first place. But, as his own business began to struggle, my success and need for independence began slowly, but steadily, pushing us apart.

Enter,
The
Real Housewives of New York City
. . .

I
T IS THE
middle
of the summer of 2007, the days are long and hot and business is very slow. I am working with one of my manufacturers when my cell phone rings. It’s my friend, Dr. Sharon Giese, a prominent plastic surgeon and expert on natural anti-aging procedures. She says, “I was approached by a producer from Bravo. They’re doing some kind of a reality television show about women in New York City who are married, live an upscale lifestyle, and are very social. Right away, I thought of you. Would you be interested?”

I’m bored, it’s the end of July, the deadest time of the year in my line work, so I say, “What the heck? I’ll do it just for the hell of it. Give them my number.”

A few weeks later, a small camera crew comes out for the day. They film me at my office, going to appointments, at home, and with Avery, who is twelve years old. She is very excited about this opportunity to be on television. She has been interested in acting, but we never pursued it for her because it’s such a demanding business and school has always come first.

Avery and I decide to go shopping at Lester’s, one of our favorite stores. The cameras follow us around the store but I hardly notice them. I just go about my day as usual. I’m sorting through a rack of clothing when Avery tugs on my arm and whispers, “Mommy, everyone’s looking at us. They’re staring at us!” I roll my eyes and say, “Oh, Ave, just pretend the cameras aren’t there.” It’s easy for me to block out the cameras, probably because growing up I had to block out all the noise in my family. I shut the cameras out, just like I shut out my father’s yelling.

We spend the entire day filming and it’s exhausting but fun. At one point Avery says to me, “Oh, my God. This is so much work, Mommy.” I had been filming all day long and she only filmed for two hours with me. I say to her, “Avery, if you want to be an actor, this is what it’s about. We’re just doing a demo tape for a reality show here. It would be ten times more work if you were filming a movie.”

When we get back to our apartment, Avery is excited. She keeps asking, “Are we gonna be on, Mommy? Do you think we’ll be on the show? Is this it? Is this it?” But the producer explains that the six hours of footage have to be edited down to a two-minute video that she will submit to the head producers of the show. They are the ones who will make the final decision. She tells us, “I’ll get back to you.”

The funny thing is, when she does get back to me it turns out the head producer has already seen me on another woman’s demo tape. I had almost forgotten, but a few months back I had attended a cooking party, hosted by my friend Pamela Morgan, who owns a culinary business called Flirting with Flavors. During the party, I was my usual animated, outgoing, gregarious self, bopping around and asking questions. When the head producer watched the tape and saw me, she asked, “Who is that woman? Let’s find
her
.” Apparently, they tried to track me down, but they couldn’t find me—even though Jill Zarin, who was also at the party, could have told them how to contact me. Ten months later they get my audition tape and realize I’m the person they have been looking for.

A few weekends later, I’m at my house in the Hamptons when I get a call from the producer telling me they want me on the show and they have a contract for me to sign. I say, “That’s great, but before I sign anything I would like to see the demo tape.”

She says, “Sorry, but we can’t do that.”

I don’t say no, but I don’t back down, “Really? I don’t think I can consider doing the show without seeing the demo tape. I don’t think I can sign the contract.”

She puts me on hold and in a few moments she comes back and says, “Okay, what’s your address?” Score one for Ramona. They FedEx the demo tape to me in the Hamptons and it’s totally adorable. It opens with Avery who says, “I’m Avery and this is my mom, Ramona.” I’m happy with how they capture my energy and portray my family so I decide to do the show.

A few days later, I’m playing tennis with Jill Zarin at my house and she says, “You know, I’m gonna be doing a reality show for a cable channel.”

I go, “Really? I got offered a show, too.”

It’s not until the following week when we meet to play tennis again that we even realize we’ve been chosen for the same show. When I tell her I got them to send me the demo tape, she’s like, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

After they send me the contract, I start having second thoughts;
I don’t really have time for this. I don’t need to be famous. I’m already popular with my friends. I already have a successful business. I’m married. I have my daughter. I have a full life. I don’t need this stress in my life
.
What do I need to take this on for?
I contact Bravo and tell them I’m out.

A few days later, Mario is off playing tennis with Avery, so I decide to get together with a girlfriend. Polo is huge in the Hamptons during the summer. It’s kind of like field hockey played on horseback. I’m not a huge fan of the game, but I like to network and people watch. I make some calls and a friend of mine gets us into the VIP tent, where we run into one of the Bravo producers.

She says, “Ramona, I don’t understand why you’re not doing the show.”

I’m a little taken aback that they still want me, but I reply, “I can’t do the show because I just don’t have time.”

Immediately, she starts giving me the hard sell, “It’s just an hour or two, once or twice a week. We’ll work around your schedule.”

Assuming they are looking for an über socialite New York housewife, I argue, “I don’t really do all those big charity events anymore. I’m older than Jill. I’ve done those huge benefits for two hundred, three hundred people. That’s not where I’m at anymore.”

“That’s okay. We don’t need that from you.”

“I prefer to do dinner parties for fifteen, thirty people tops,” I explain.

“Okay, great. We can film that,” she insists.

“No, you don’t get it. My friends don’t want to be filmed,” and then, feeling self-conscious, I add, “I’ll be boring.”

She looks at me and says, “Ramona, since when are you ever boring?”

Then, something clicks in my head. I have been encouraging Mario to build a website to drive business to his company. I have always believed that business is like a shark; you have to keep moving. If you stop, you die. He has been reluctant because he’s always used sales reps, but recently he agreed to give it a shot. We decide that the website should have a different name from the family business, so we call it “True Faith Jewelry” in honor of the inspiring advice my mother gave me when I was a young girl. I decide to do the show as a way to showcase Mario’s True Faith Jewelry website.

That night, Mario and I sit down with Avery at the dinner table and tell her, “Avery, we have an opportunity to do this reality show. We’ll be in the public eye, but we’re not doing it to be famous or popular. We’re doing it to help your father’s company develop a new business. We’re doing it to bring more exposure to the website.”