If we’re being honest, I started Season 4 of Selling the OC mainly because I needed closure on the world’s longest-running “Are they? Aren’t they? Will they? Should they?” situationship between Alex Hall and Tyler Stanaland. It’s like the producers have a secret button labelled “EXTEND TENSION” and they keep slapping it like it owes them rent. And yes, I’m invested. I’m not proud of it, but here we are.
But even beyond the Alex-Tyler emotional hoagie sandwich, Season 4 felt like a reboot with a better personality upgrade than half the people at the Oppenheim office. We got three new cast members — Fiona, Kaylee, and Ashtyn — basically the OC version of “new kids in class who instantly know who the annoying ones are.”
Kaylee, for starters, is that girl you instantly like. The one who walks in, smiles at everyone, says, “Oh I don’t want drama,” and then proceeds to not cause drama. A revolutionary concept on this show. She’s straightforward, calls it like it is, and won’t let anyone steamroll her — which already makes her more emotionally stable than half the cast combined. She also manages to not fall into the Tyler-Hall Bermuda Triangle, which is honestly a heroic act.
Then there’s Fiona — a straight shooter who has opinions, a backbone, and a refreshingly low tolerance for nonsense. She might have her biases (don’t we all?), but she’s relatable. Like, “Yes, I too have wanted to walk out of a meeting full of chaos and narcissism, thank you.” She brings the kind of grounding energy the OC desperately needs, like sage smoke for a toxic friend group.
Now… Ashtyn. Ah, Ashtyn. If Season 4 needed a villain, she showed up in full Disney mode — minus the musical number, but with all the attitude. She’s the kind of person who could say “Good morning!” and still make you feel like she’s accusing you of something. Every show needs a dramatic antagonist, and she took that job with the seriousness of someone applying for the CIA.
Meanwhile, our OGs are still circling the emotional rollercoaster track.
Alex Hall, who I previously found a bit too sharp-edged and bossy, has now become weirdly… likeable? She’s evolved from “oh god, her again” to “wait, she actually makes sense.” She’s grown on me like a character arc that actually arced. Also, she’s smart, stylish, and gives us the emotional slow burns reality TV thrives on.
Alex Hall’s boyfriend Ian also makes an appearance this season. He seems like a perfectly nice guy — polite, steady, and well-intentioned — but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s trying to read a complicated novel using preschool flashcards. Alex Hall is layered, fiery, and beautifully complex, and Ian… well, he’s giving “sweet but slightly out of his depth,” like someone who wandered into a storm thinking it was a light breeze. It’s not that he’s wrong for her, but Season 4 makes it pretty clear that he just can’t quite keep up — and honestly, that feels like not just your opinion, but the collective audience’s sigh.
Tyler, of course, continues his reign as the universally swooned-over realtor of the west coast. Every woman on the show looks at him like he’s a scented candle that never burns out. Kaylee wisely swerves the temptation because she knows better — but even we, sitting safely behind screens, understand the gravitational pull of the Tyler vortex.
Now let’s talk about Gio. Ah, Gio. A man who has spent three seasons seeing his reflection not just in the mirror but also, metaphorically, in every shiny surface in the OC. But something weird has happened: he’s calmed down. Like someone put his ego on a low simmer instead of a rolling boil. Don’t worry — he still has bursts of peak Gio behavior, but at least this season I didn’t yell at the TV as much.
Then there’s Austin aka Furniture dad. I refuse to believe he has an actual storyline. He appears in scenes like a decorative vase — nice to have, but you wouldn’t notice if it disappeared for two episodes. Useful? Maybe. Memorable? Kinda not.
Of course, Polly. Sweet, whimsical, floating-like-incense-smoke Polly. She’s fairy-dust personified. She’s the crystal in the office no one asked for but everyone accepts. Watching her navigate drama is like watching a butterfly dodge raindrops — delicate, unpredictable, slightly dizzying
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Jason and Brett glide in and out of the OC office with their trademark calm, watching the chaos unfold like proud ringmasters of a very glamorous circus.
So was Season 4 actually better than previous seasons? Hard to say. But did the Alex Hall–Tyler tension single-handedly boost the show’s TRPs? Absolutely. If Netflix could bottle their chemistry, it would outsell Dior.
And if we’re comparing Selling Sunset vs Selling the OC — honestly, they’re going toe-to-toe like two glam cousins fighting for the spotlight at a family reunion. Both are deliciously dramatic, unapologetically extra, and the perfect mental vacation after a long day of adulting.
Bottom line: Season 4 is dramatic, messy, watchable, and the right blend of chaos and comfort. It’s escapist TV at its glossy best — ocean views, overpriced houses, unreal friendships, and unfiltered emotions. In other words, the OC we keep coming back to.
Honest Reviews 