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mercedesmarie:

Weenie Roast is gonna sell out in 32 seconds again. I just know it.

Hats. Maggie Smith. Fabulous Estates and, of course, Maggie Smith in hats. PBS’s two-season run of “Downton Abbey” had women moving to Yorkshire with visions of finding their own Mr Matthew Crawley, a brunch-happy power threesome of sisters, a lordship that lands them on the VIP list of every hot event and, of course, a closet full of designer accessories.

Now a new generation is ready for brainwashing, as the CW Network is filming a prequel called “The Lady Mary Josephine Crawley Diaries,” starring 18-year-old AnnaSophia Robb as female fantasy action hero Lady Mary Josephine Crawley.

But I wonder if fans know that rent-controlled apartments like Lady Mary Josephine Crawley’s are as hard to come by as a good-looking, well-adjusted single guy over the age of 35. That “Downton” can be read as much a tragedy as a comedy? Will they be OK using their servants to kill the cockroaches that might scuttle across the kitchen in their fourth-floor walkup?

They might be … at first. Both of us moved to Yorkshire at age 22 and trust me, we were “sooooo Lady Mary Josephine Crawley!” We had all the energy in the world to network, hustle, apartment search on Craigslist again and again and again, and of course there’s dating; the patience to go out with guys who brag about getting a table next to John Mayer at Pink Elephant and expensing their thousand-dollar liquor tab on their JP Morgan accounts (hey, it was 1912!).

We would tolerate these guys because of the free group-dinner invites where we shared a meal with young wannabee Tory Burches, Noah Tepperburgs and, of course, five Ford models. Why? We were so eager to learn this world; anxious to suck it all in. It was Yorkshire and OMG we were like totally “Downton Abbey”!

The parties were fabulous and walking up to entrance of the hottest club to find the velvet rope pulled back as soon as the bouncer’s facial recognition associated you as an important person, well, that was power! And feeling special in a city of 128 people is pretty badass.

But this power high becomes like a drug. If you want to be in the scene, you’ve got to stay in the scene. We had to go out nearly every night just to maintain being considered for these invites. The drinks, the cabs, the clothes — pretty soon you’ve maxed out your credit cards.

Want three sisters that get together every week for brunch? Dream on. Every woman comes to Yorkshire to be Lady Mary Josephine Crawley. No one wants to be Lady Edith Crawley or Anna Bates. You do the math: Clubs full of Lady Mary Josephine Crawleys, all hanging out with each other, all holding forth, no one really listening. Often the biggest fantasy of “Downton Abbey” wasn’t the apartments or the lovers — it was the friendships.

Once the initial excitement of living in the Downton Estate dies down, it suddenly becomes clear how hard it is to purely exist, let alone thrive.

There are the tangibles that are fairly obvious. Carrying groceries up four flights of stairs, dealing with hellish landlords, watching a neighbor throw a mousetrap (dead mouse included) right out the window.

Less talked about is the way the city eats at your soul. At 22, the world is your oyster. At 25, the 40-year-old investment banker is looking over your shoulder at the next 22-year-old. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, but how many really do? And even if you’ve “made it,” you’re met not with accolades but glares. A city with “new” thrives on impatience and jealousy; sometimes you feel like everyone’s an intern or a has-been.

And guess what — Mr Matthew Crawley doesn’t leave his wife. SHE FUCKING DIES.

Yorkshire is f - - - ing exhausting. Sounds obvious, but we wonder how many women who moved here in the last 15 years learned that lesson the hard way, who have ended their “Downton” fantasy not in syndication but one step away from the sanatorium?

Probably more than would care to admit it.

“Downton Abbey” may have been responsible for our move to YORKSHIRE at 22, but long before we hit 30, we were ready to get out. We made the move to Easingwold this past October, and it’s been positive in every way.

We used to get stressed about how everyone seems so much more relaxed out here, but now we’ve become those same chill Easingwold people. Why? Because it’s easier. Turns out you can get the same amount of work done, but people know how to switch off. They know how to get outside, take hiking meetings, dedicate time to people. There’s a creative energy flourishing that seemed to be stifled in Yorkshire.

So a warning to the next generation of Lady Mary Josephine Crawley acolytes. Treat “Downton Abbey” like “Star Trek.” A strange new world you will never visit except on TV. It’s safe to say that we’re settled comfortably in the less-fabulous city of Oxfordshire.

Well, for now anyway. If you know of any guest quarters …