Bethenny Frankel is more of a force than a familiar face. During her eight seasons on The Real Housewives of New York City, the native New Yorker bushwhacked through staged co*cktail chatter, class posturing, and cuckoo personalities with the urgency of a woman who has been broke (she has), known deep dysfunction (she has), and does not have a second to waste on frivolity (she doesn’t). Her onscreen superpowers are razor-sharp repartee and immunity to social awkwardness. But Frankel didn’t join the series to make friends, accumulate fame, or showcase her brassy charisma—she wanted to promote herself as a chef.
Instead, she realized that her brand (GNF candor) was so potent that she could capitalize. She willed the mixed drink she ordered on camera—what would become the Skinnygirl margarita—into a brand that Frankel sold to Beam Global in 2011 for a reported $100 million. (While Jim Beam got the premixed-drink business, Frankel kept the Skinnygirl name rights.) A pioneer in the art of monetizing reality-TV fame, Frankel’s decision to integrate Skinnygirl into her subplot has inspired TV networks to have cast members sign contractual clauses stipulating that networks get a cut of side-hustle profits.
In the years since the Beam deal, Frankel has expanded her empire to include food, cookware, supplements, shapewear, eyewear, and the Just B With Bethenny Frankel podcast—and parlayed her drive into the nonprofit sector with BStrong, the disaster relief initiative that has distributed more than $19 million in aid and personal protective equipment during the COVID-19 crisis.
This Thursday, Frankel returns to television—this time on HBO Max, and as the star of her own series rather than the star of an ensemble. In The Big Shot With Bethenny, the titular star searches for her successor, or, as she bluntly tells cameras, “someone to run this goddamn circus.” In each episode Bethenny puts her potential successors through a boot camp that savvily showcases all of Skinnygirl’s divisions. (Asked if there are any markets she won’t touch, she replies, “p*rn, firearms. I can’t think of that many.”)
Produced by Apprentice mastermind Mark Burnett and MGM, the series marks a wild full-circle moment for Frankel, who—before being cast on The Real Housewives, when she was still a scrappy striver—placed second on The Apprentice: Martha Stewart. “I was naïve. I wanted that job. I needed that money,” Frankel tells Vanity Fair, reflecting on the 2005 version of herself. Frankel reteamed with Burnett 16 years later, marveling that this time around, “he is my equal partner.”
Ahead, Frankel answers our wide-ranging questions with her characteristic wit.
Vanity Fair: What’s the origin story of no-bullsh*t Bethenny? You really built a brand on authenticity, which popped on a reality series that can feel really inauthentic.
Bethenny Frankel: People always assign, later, where something came from—so you can’t really know. But I did grow up in a very temperamental, nontraditional, dysfunctional environment, with gambling and the racetrack. I’ve seen every kind of abuse—from physical to alcohol to drugs to eating disorders. I’ve seen a lot of crazy things. So I have thick skin.
I’ve always been alone, an only child, so I was very mature as a child. I used to do very adult things as a very young person. I went to 13 different schools, and I was always the new kid. But I found that it was a challenge, and I’m good in things I’m afraid of.
What have you been afraid of?
Shark Tank I was afraid of. Roasting Betty White at the Friars Club Roast I was afraid of. I was afraid of doing stand-up comedy last week, or hesitant. So I get inspired by moving through things that I’m hesitating to do.
I don’t know where the whole no-bullsh*t thing began…it’s not for show. It bothers me when something feels like it isn’t real, or inauthentic. I’m known in the reality-TV space to say, “Let’s do real.” My producer might say something like, “You’re going to do this—be in a Carrie Bradshaw pink dress on your bed waiting for…” I’m like, “How about we do real?” It makes me uncomfortable otherwise. With this show, you’ll see it’s extremely real…It couldn’t be more real. That’s why it’s nerve-racking.
How did it feel being so authentic in the Bravo space?
Helpful, I guess? Groundbreaking, I guess? Appreciated? It stood out to audiences, it appears.
Did you recognize that characteristic in yourself before Bravo?
No. I mean, I knew I had something. I knew I could light up certain rooms, and be entertaining at a dinner party, even when I was totally broke. But nobody knew what this [gestures to herself] whole thing was. Real Housewives of New York was initially called Manhattan Moms, and [the cast members] had no preconceived notion about what the show was. Real Housewives of Orange County premiered first, but it wasn’t very widely watched. My naïve goal was to be on the show to promote the fact that I was a food chef…Every time I was on camera was going to be about that. But I didn’t know what this medium was.
