Well, I finally did it. I caved and watched Inventing Anna, the Netflix miniseries about the fake German heiress who scammed New York’s social elite, financial institutions, and a few unfortunate souls trying to pay their rent.

It’s one of those shows I sidestepped for years, like a trendy brunch spot everyone swears by but you just know will leave you bloated and vaguely dissatisfied. And much like that overpriced avocado toast, Inventing Anna delivered… confusion, contradictions, and a strange craving for something real.

Let’s talk about Anna. Or is it Anna Delvey? Anna Sorokin? Anna Sociopath?

The show itself didn’t quite know. It ping-ponged between portraying her as a girlboss antihero or a self-absorbed sociopath. One moment you’re meant to clutch your pearls at her manipulations, the next you’re supposed to admire her moxie as she struts in designer court couture. Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, she is not.

But here’s the kicker: it’s not just the show that’s confused; we all are.

We live in a time when being bad isn’t always a dealbreaker. Especially if you’re clever, photogenic, or have an Instagram following with aesthetic filters and emotional captions. Anna didn’t just scam; she curated her scams. She branded them. And people bought in literally and figuratively because they wanted to believe.

Her targets weren’t random victims of a con. They were often aspiring leeches themselves, hoping to cling to the next big moneyed “it” girl. A socialite startup, if you will. What unfolded was less a crime spree and more a co-dependent carousel of delusion.

Everyone was playing a part. The bankers, the hoteliers, the PR mavens. Even the journalist chasing her story was a woman trying to reclaim relevance through Anna’s warped spotlight. It was performance art meets moral erosion.

And isn’t that just so, now?

We’ve entered an era where the line between infamy and influence is tissue-paper thin. Where bad behavior earns podcast deals, memoirs, and Hulu options. Do something egregious, but in a stylish, meme-worthy way and you might just land a fashion sponsorship.

Anna was a scammer, yes. But she was also a symptom. A mirror. A glitch in a system where values have been repackaged into hashtags and virtue is filtered through virality.

So here I am wondering whether will we ever recalibrate?
Will we ever go back to celebrating the quietly good, the non-spectacularly ethical?
Or are we too far gone, too addicted to the drama, the disaster, the dopamine hit of “omg she did what?”

As for me, I’ll take my truth unvarnished, my people unmanufactured, and my heiresses… real.

Until then, I’ll be side-eyeing anyone who asks for a wire transfer in a vaguely European accent.