You know that feeling when you're watching a show and you can practically smell the expensive floor wax and old money? That's what watching the Gilded Age seasons feels like. Honestly, it’s not just about the giant hats or the fact that everyone seems to have a butler named Bannister. It’s the sheer, cutthroat audacity of 1880s New York.
Julian Fellowes, the mastermind behind Downton Abbey, basically took his "old world vs. new world" formula and dropped it into a Manhattan construction zone. It’s loud. It’s gaudy. It is fantastic.
When we talk about the Gilded Age seasons, we’re looking at a specific window of American history where money didn't just talk—it screamed. If you weren’t on "The List," you didn't exist. If your house wasn't big enough to have its own zip code, why even bother? Season 1 set the stage by introducing us to the clash between the "Old Money" van Rhijns and the "New Money" Russells. Season 2 took that spark and turned it into a full-blown opera war. Literally.
The Russell vs. Astor Power Dynamic
The heart of the Gilded Age seasons isn't actually the romance, though there’s plenty of that. It’s the war for social legitimacy. Bertha Russell, played by the formidable Carrie Coon, is a force of nature. She doesn’t just want to be in society; she wants to own the building where society meets.
Think about the central conflict of the first season. It was all about a fundraiser. A simple bazaar. But in the world of 1882, where you sat and whose tea you drank determined your stock price and your daughter's marriage prospects. The stakes are hilariously high for things that seem, well, kind of trivial to us now.
But they weren't trivial then.
In Season 2, the conflict shifts from personal slights to institutional warfare. We get the "Battle of the Operas." You have the old-guard Academy of Music going head-to-head with the brand-new Metropolitan Opera House. This wasn't some fictional plot point Fellowes dreamt up over a gin and tonic. It really happened in 1883. The new millionaires—the Vanderbilts, the Morgans, the Rockefellers—were tired of being told there was no room for them in the Academy’s private boxes. So, they just built their own.
That’s the vibe of the Gilded Age seasons. If you can’t join the club, buy the club and fire the manager.
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Historical Accuracy and the Black Elite
One of the most refreshing things about how the show handles the Gilded Age seasons is the inclusion of the Black elite in Brooklyn. Usually, period dramas act like Black people didn't exist in 19th-century New York unless they were in service roles.
Through the character of Peggy Scott, we see a whole different side of history. We see the New York Globe and the thriving professional class of Black writers, doctors, and business owners. It adds a layer of complexity that Downton Abbey lacked. Peggy’s storyline in Season 2, dealing with the schools in the South and the reality of Reconstruction-era politics, grounds the show. It reminds us that while Bertha Russell is crying about her opera box, there are people literally fighting for the right to an education.
It’s a stark contrast. It’s necessary. It makes the show feel like a complete portrait of a city, not just a postcard of the Upper East Side.
Why We Are Obsessed With the Costumes
Let’s be real. Half the reason anyone watches the Gilded Age seasons is the silk. The hats. The bustle. Costume designer Kasia Walicka-Maimone is basically doing God’s work here.
The clothes tell the story before the actors even open their mouths. Agnes van Rhijn wears deep, somber purples and stiff silks. She is the past. She is immovable. Bertha Russell? She wears neon yellows, intricate metallic embroideries, and silhouettes that look like they’re from the future. She is the steam engine coming to flatten Agnes’s brownstone.
The Reality of the "Gilded" Part
Mark Twain coined the term "Gilded Age" because a gilded object is just something cheap covered in a thin layer of gold. Underneath the fancy parties and the French chefs, the Gilded Age seasons show us the rot.
We see the strike in Pittsburgh. We see the way George Russell—a character based loosely on Jay Gould and Cornelius Vanderbilt—views human lives as line items on a ledger. There’s a coldness to him. Even though we sort of root for the Russells because they’re the underdogs of high society, we have to remember they’re also the titans of industry who built their empires on the backs of underpaid labor.
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It’s a weird tension. You want Bertha to win her social war, but you also realize that her victory is funded by the very exploitation that the show’s working-class characters are struggling against.
What’s Coming Next for the Show?
With Season 3 officially greenlit and filming well underway, the trajectory of the Gilded Age seasons is moving toward even more upheaval. Historically, the mid-1880s were a time of massive financial panics and the rise of organized labor.
We’ve seen the "Duke" storyline start to simmer. Gladys Russell is basically being used as a pawn in her mother’s chess game to secure a British title. This was a huge "thing" in the real Gilded Age. Think Consuelo Vanderbilt marrying the Duke of Marlborough. It was a trade: American cash for a British crown.
If the show stays true to history, we’re going to see some heartbreak for Gladys and a lot of maneuvering from Bertha.
Key Takeaways from the Gilded Age Seasons
- Social mobility was a myth for most, but a weapon for a few. The Russells prove that enough money can eventually break any door down.
- The stakes were different. A seating chart at a dinner party was as serious as a modern-day corporate merger.
- Progress had a price. For every new mansion on 5th Avenue, there were thousands of people living in tenements that the show only occasionally glints at.
- The Black elite played a massive role. The Scott family represents a crucial, often ignored part of New York’s intellectual and social history.
How to Dive Deeper into the Era
If you’re obsessed with the Gilded Age seasons, don’t just stop at the TV show. There is so much "real" tea to uncover.
First, check out the book The Vanderbilts by Arthur T. Vanderbilt II. It’s wilder than the show. They spent money in ways that make modern billionaires look frugal. We’re talking about parties where guests dug for "ruby" party favors in silver bowls filled with sand.
Second, if you're ever in New York, go to the Museum of the City of New York. They have actual rooms preserved from this era. You can see the scale of the furniture and realize that these people were basically living in museums.
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Third, look into the life of Alva Vanderbilt. She is the primary blueprint for Bertha Russell. She was the one who forced her way into Mrs. Astor’s good graces by throwing a costume ball so big that Astor’s daughter literally couldn't afford to be left out.
The Gilded Age seasons aren't just about the past. They’re about how we got here. The power structures, the wealth gaps, and the obsession with status that we see on social media today? It all started in those 1880s ballrooms.
To truly understand the show, you have to look at the architecture of the city itself. The remaining "cottages" in Newport, Rhode Island, like The Breakers or Marble House, give you a sense of the scale that the show tries to capture. These weren't homes. They were statements of intent.
The next time you sit down to watch, keep an eye on the background characters. The footmen. The maids. The people who make the "gilded" life possible. Their stories are just as much a part of the Gilded Age seasons as the ladies in the tiaras.
The drama isn't ending anytime soon. As long as there’s a new mansion to build or a reputation to ruin, Julian Fellowes has plenty of material to work with.
Next Steps for Enthusiasts:
Start by reading The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. She lived through this. She was "Old Money" and she wrote about it with a sharp, cynical pen that makes the show's dialogue feel even richer. After that, plan a trip to Newport, Rhode Island to see the "summer cottages" in person; seeing the 70-room Breakers mansion puts the Russells' ambition into a terrifyingly clear perspective. Finally, track the real-life parallels of the 1883 Opera War to see just how much of Season 2 was ripped straight from the headlines of the New York Tribune.