The Guilded Age Series Review

 

So there I was, minding my own business, scrolling for something to half-watch while I folded laundry—and boom. I stumbled into The Gilded Age, just as they were hyping up season 3. And let me tell you, that laundry is still sitting in the dryer because I binged all three seasons like my life depended on it.

Now, if you’re not into corsets, chandeliers, and people throwing shade with a raised eyebrow and a teacup, this show is not for you. At all. But if you love watching rich people play social chess while dressed like they’re headed to a royal funeral, welcome to your new obsession.

Created by Julian Fellowes (yes, the same mastermind behind Downton Abbey), this series is basically Game of Thrones in a bustle—minus the dragons, plus more passive-aggressive dinner parties. The battlefield? 1880s New York. The weapons? Reputation, real estate, and ruthless ambition.

Let’s talk Bertha Russell, played by Carrie Coon, who deserves her own crown and possibly a war medal. Bertha is new money and not here to play nice with the old guard. She will bulldoze tradition, throw a ball that rivals Versailles, and—yes—strategically “trade” her daughter Gladys (Taissa Farmiga) like she’s a pawn in a society chess match. It’s savage. It’s brilliant. It’s deeply uncomfortable. And I loved every second.

Her husband George Russell (Morgan Spector) is a railroad tycoon who mostly exists to fund Bertha’s social conquests and occasionally look concerned when she’s plotting societal domination. Their dynamic is less romance, more power couple with matching daggers.

On the flip side, we’ve got Marian Brook (Louisa Jacobson), the sweet, slightly naive niece of Agnes van Rhijn (Christine Baranski), who delivers one-liners so sharp they could slice through a corset. Marian is trying to find her place in this world, bless her heart, but she’s often outmaneuvered by women who’ve been playing this game since birth.

And then there’s Peggy Scott (Denée Benton), the real MVP. A Black writer navigating both the elite white circles and her own community’s complex social ladder. Her storyline is rich, layered, and gives the show the depth it desperately needs. Watching her push back against expectations and carve out her own space is one of the most satisfying arcs in the series.

The show doesn’t shy away from the racial and class divides—it leans into them, showing how status and success were pursued across every corner of society, even when the rules were rigged. It’s not perfect, but it’s trying, and that effort shows.

By the time I hit the season 3 finale, I was emotionally invested in every silk-draped betrayal and every eyebrow twitch that signaled social war. The drama is slow-burn, but when it hits, it hits. And the costumes? Let’s just say I now judge modern fashion by whether it could survive a Bertha Russell entrance.

So yes, my flabbers were thoroughly gasted. And if season 4 doesn’t come with more scheming, more Peggy, and at least one scandal involving a stolen heirloom or a forbidden romance, I will personally write a strongly worded letter with a feather quill.

I give this series 5 out of 5 acorns.