Adam DiVello basically owns the "glossy real estate" genre, so when word leaked about Selling the City Netflix was adding to its roster, everyone assumed we were getting another carbon copy of the Oppenheim Group. It makes sense on paper. You take the high-stakes, high-glamour formula of Selling Sunset, move it across the country, and watch the commissions roll in. But New York City isn't the Sunset Strip.
The show centers on Douglas Elliman, a titan in the industry, specifically following agents Jade Shenker and Mackenzie Duch. If you’ve followed the "Selling" franchise at all, you know the drill: sky-high heels, glass-walled penthouses, and enough interpersonal drama to fuel a soap opera. Yet, there’s a specific grit to Manhattan real estate that feels different from the pool-side gossip of Los Angeles.
People are actually starting to get skeptical of these shows. Why? Because the market changed. Interest rates spiked, inventory dried up, and the "easy" money of 2020 feels like a distant memory. Selling the City on Netflix arrives at a moment when the audience knows more about the housing market than ever before. We aren't just looking at the kitchens anymore; we're looking at the realistic feasibility of these deals in a post-lawsuit real estate world.
The Manhattan Meat Grinder
New York real estate is a different beast entirely. In LA, it’s about the view of the hills. In NYC, it’s about "the coop board from hell" or whether a developer can get air rights for a skinny skyscraper on Billionaire’s Row. Selling the City Netflix has to lean into that complexity to survive.
Honestly, the stakes feel higher here. You aren't just selling a house; you’re selling a 1,200-square-foot box that costs $4 million. The agents, Shenker and Duch, have to navigate a world where a bad reputation in one building can blackball you from an entire neighborhood. It's cutthroat. DiVello, the mastermind behind The Hills, knows how to edit tension, but you can't fake the sheer density of a Manhattan negotiation.
Think about the competition.
For years, Million Dollar Listing New York set the gold standard. Ryan Serhant and Fredrik Eklund weren't just reality stars; they were—and are—legitimate industry leaders. For Selling the City Netflix to find its footing, it has to prove these agents actually have the keys to the city. It's not enough to look good in a slow-motion walking shot. You need to close the $20 million penthouse at 432 Park.
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Why the Cast Matters More Than the Condos
Jade Shenker isn't a newcomer to the hustle. She’s built a reputation in commercial and luxury residential that predates the cameras. That’s the "E-E-A-T" (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) of reality TV. If the agents feel like actors, the show flops. If they feel like sharks who happen to have a camera crew following them, people tune in.
Mackenzie Duch brings that same energy.
The dynamic between agents in New York is historically more professional and perhaps a bit colder than the "family" vibe tried in Selling the OC. In NYC, nobody has time for a three-hour lunch to discuss a snubbed invitation. They have three other showings and a board package to finalize. This shift in pace is what makes Selling the City Netflix a potential breakout—or a potential mismatch for the brand.
The "Sunset" Fatigue is Real
Let’s be real for a second. We’ve seen a lot of white marble countertops.
Netflix knows they are fighting viewer fatigue. Selling Sunset has lasted many seasons, but the spin-offs have had mixed results. Selling Tampa was canceled after one season. Selling the OC leans so hard into villain arcs that the real estate sometimes feels like an afterthought. Selling the City Netflix needs to find the middle ground.
It has to be aspirational.
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If I'm watching, I want to see the private terraces overlooking Central Park. I want to see the $50 million townhouses in Greenwich Village with "original crown molding" and "secret gardens." But I also want to see the rejection. New York is a city of "No." Seeing an agent get laughed out of a room by a seller who thinks their apartment is worth $2 million more than it is? That’s the authentic New York experience.
Real Estate in 2026: A New Landscape
The world of Selling the City Netflix isn't the same world Selling Sunset premiered in. Back then, commissions were standardized and the "buyer's agent" was a given. Following the landmark NAR (National Association of Realtors) lawsuits and settlements, the way these agents get paid has been flipped on its head.
Buyers now have to sign representation agreements upfront. Commissions are negotiable in a way they weren't before. For a show like this to be "human-quality" and accurate, it has to acknowledge these shifts.
The "glamorous agent" trope is being replaced by the "indispensable advisor." If the show ignores the legal and financial reality of 2026 real estate, it’s just a fantasy. If it embraces it, it becomes a masterclass in high-level sales.
- The Co-op Factor: Unlike LA, where you just need money, NYC co-ops require you to bare your soul (and your tax returns) to a board of strangers.
- The Density: Drama happens in elevators and lobbies, not just at sprawling mansion parties.
- The Velocity: Things move faster. A listing can be gone in 24 hours.
What Most People Get Wrong About These Shows
Critics love to say these shows are 100% scripted. They aren't. Not exactly.
Are the conversations prompted? Sure. Is the lighting perfect? Of course. But the deals? The deals have to be real because the public records in New York are transparent. You can go to ACRIS (Automated City Register Information System) and see exactly who bought what and for how much.
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The agents on Selling the City Netflix are putting their professional reputations on the line. If they look incompetent on Netflix, they lose million-dollar clients in real life. That’s the real "reality" of the show. The friction isn't just about who said what at a cocktail party; it's about who "stole" a lead on a new development in Chelsea.
The Production Polish
Netflix’s production value is unmatched. The drone shots of the Chrysler Building at sunset, the crisp audio of heels clicking on Soho cobblestones—it’s "real estate porn" at its finest. But the "Selling" brand is also about the "lifestyle."
It’s about where these agents eat (likely Carbone or Polo Bar), where they shop, and how they navigate the social hierarchy of the 1%. Selling the City Netflix acts as a travel guide for a life most of us will never lead. It’s escapism, plain and simple.
But even escapism needs a hook.
The hook here is the City itself. New York is a character. It’s loud, it’s dirty, it’s expensive, and it’s beautiful. If the show captures that—the sirens in the background of a phone call, the rain on a taxi window—it will feel "real" in a way the polished suburbs of Orange County never could.
Actionable Insights for the Curious Viewer (or Aspiring Agent)
If you're watching Selling the City Netflix and thinking about entering the fray, or if you're just trying to understand the New York market, keep these things in mind:
- Verify the "Sold" signs. Use sites like StreetEasy to see if the listings featured on the show actually closed. It’s a great way to see how long "TV houses" actually sit on the market versus reality.
- Watch the Neighborhoods. Notice how the show differentiates between the Upper East Side (old money, classic) and Hudson Yards (new money, glass and steel). The marketing strategies for each are wildly different.
- Follow the Real Professionals. If you like an agent on the show, find their actual LinkedIn or company bio. Real-life success usually looks a lot more boring—and involves a lot more paperwork—than what makes the final edit.
- Understand the "Board Package." If the show mentions a co-op, pay attention. It’s the most unique and terrifying part of NYC real estate. It’s where even celebrities get rejected.
The "Selling" universe is expanding because we are obsessed with how the other half lives. Selling the City Netflix is the latest attempt to bottle that curiosity. Whether it becomes a long-standing staple or a one-season wonder depends entirely on whether it treats New York with the respect (and the cynicism) it deserves.
Manhattan doesn't care about your followers. Manhattan cares about your closing rate. That is the fundamental truth the show has to prove every single episode. If the agents can't cut it, the city—and the viewers—will move on to the next big thing before the ink on the contract is even dry.