On a cold April morning in Manhattan, Ramona Singer, a cast member of “The Real Housewives of New York City,” is teetering across a street in stilettos, shedding her coat to expose a short taupe dress paired with pearls. She had just left Tipsy Parson, a bar and restaurant in Chelsea, and is making a beeline to a tour bus plastered with the cast’s faces.

Ms. Singer, 59, the tiny blond entrepreneur whose outlandish personality, unquenchable thirst for pinot grigio and nasty divorce have led to an eight-year tenure on the show, poses against the bus, snipping at her handlers: “Where’s my lipstick?” “Did you retweet my Snapchat?” Then she ducks into a chauffeured black car and is gone.

Ms. Singer may not have been the type to stick around for a three-hour bus tour of 36 of the show’s filming locations, but I am. I’m one of the millions who enjoy this spectacle of wealthy womanhood held up to a fun-house mirror.

But I do have questions. So do my editors.

Why do I, and so many other women, enjoy something that plays on the worst female stereotypes? What does this show’s popularity say about us?

We know Americans are obsessed with wealth, and for decades our TV diets have been infused with excess, from “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” to “All My Children” to the reality show known as the Race for the White House 2016, featuring a former first lady, a billionaire, a Texan and an actual socialist, among others.

The Housewives are just an extreme product of that culture. You would not be alone in dismissing the franchise as trash. President Obama singled it out as one reason young Americans risked falling behind in the world. Nonetheless, the franchise also has high-profile fans, including, supposedly, the president’s wife.

“The Real Housewives,” which began 10 years ago in Orange County, Calif., has grown from a blip to a pop culture behemoth. Each episode purports to follow a group of friends through boozy feuds, marital scandals and appallingly bad behavior at five-star resorts around the world.

The template is simple: The women, dressed in designer labels, gather in a beautiful setting like Palm Springs, Morocco or Miami. Someone inevitably brings up a touchy subject (money, illness, addiction, infidelity) and awkward explosive arguments ensue. For Bravo, this has been ratings gold.

Housewives can be found in gated communities in more than 10 cities in the United States. The most popular show is “The Real Housewives of Atlanta,” which averages over 3.6 million viewers per episode, according to Nielsen data.

“The Real Housewives of Potomac,” the 10th series, had the largest premiere to date, in January, with 2.6 million viewers. There are Housewives abroad, in England and Australia, and if Andy Cohen has his way, this is just the beginning.

Mr. Cohen is the executive producer of the “Housewives” franchise and the host of “Watch What Happens Live,” a talk show that features Bravo cast members mingling with A-listers. A live broadcast is my ultimate destination today.

Let’s get on the bus.

Joining me on the tour are dozens of fellow journalists and several attentive press handlers. We outnumber the few ecstatic fans who won contests to be here. People will eventually pay $49 to be schlepped around the city, but without meeting any Housewives. Chris and JoJo Davis, teachers from Washington State, won a trip after re-enacting a notorious “Real Housewives” fight on the “Today” show.

“I think in normal towns we don’t experience that,” says Ms. Davis, 44. “So you can live vicariously through their craziness.”

Another contest winner, Deanna Mannion, 29, of New York, tells me: “We all have that one friend that’s kind of a little crazy. And sometimes you’re that friend.”

At a Ricky’s cosmetics store in SoHo, Kristen Taekman, a 39-year-old model and a former New York cast member, does a catfight imitation, which I capture for Snapchat, as one does.

Waiting at Spin, a “ping pong bar” with 17 courts next to the Flatiron building, is Carole Radziwill, 52, an Emmy-winning former broadcast journalist and the show’s designated Normal One. Her connections to the Kennedy clan and her relationship with a much younger vegan chef appear to interest fans more than her journalism. Clad in black leather, a miniskirt and boots, she holds court in the middle of the bar.

Ms. Davis, the teacher from Washington, can’t take the distance any longer. “I know you’re not a hugger, but can I hug you anyway?” she asks, rushing into Ms. Radziwill’s arms.

We will encounter six New York Housewives on this tour. Ms. Radziwill is the only one I hear ask fans about themselves. She also lets her mask slip. When someone asks if this is where she and her boyfriend had a date, she nods and says: “That’s where we did our scene.” Pause. “Where we had our date.”

It is the tiniest crack in the reality TV veneer. But it doesn’t seem to matter. To fans, Ms. Radziwill is a real-life Carrie Bradshaw, the heroine of “Sex and the City,” which also has a bus tour.

“I’m a little bit of a businesswoman,” Ms. Radziwill told me earlier, “and in the end, you know, I’m a single girl with bills.”

We pass a nightclub that was the scene of a catfight. It’s not open. We trundle by a CB2, where one of the women had a breakdown. “Great storefront,” the tour guide says, in a deadpan.

As we sit in traffic, I pull out Bravo swag: a Skinnygirl protein shake, from the multimillion-dollar company founded by the Housewife Bethenny Frankel. It tastes slightly chalky.

Let’s get philosophical.

The tour ends at 30 Rock. Shari Levine, a Bravo executive, is waiting in the NBC gift shop. Some of these women don’t even have husbands. Why call them housewives? “I think it’s reflective of the times,” said Ms. Levine, a senior vice president who has been casting the show since it started. “They often start married. Marriages change.”

Frances Berwick, president of lifestyle networks at NBCUniversal, explains the appeal this way: “It looks like they have fabulous lives that people want to have, whether it’s their closets or their Hamptons house or their wardrobes and then they’re dealing with all sorts of the regular stuff like ‘I don’t like your boyfriend’.”

She adds: “And then you also can judge them without feeling bad about yourself.”

What would Gloria Steinem say?

The noted feminist was a guest on Mr. Cohen’s talk show in December. “It is a minstrel show for women,” she told him. “And I don’t believe it, I have to say. I feel it’s manufactured.” But even Ms. Steinem can’t help but gawk: “It’s like watching a train wreck.”

Is any of this real?

Along with Mr. Cohen, several Housewives insisted that they’re just being themselves. Kenya Moore, a former Miss USA and a member of the Atlanta cast, said: “When it comes to rumor or conversations, those are all things that people naturally bring up when they’re together. If it’s being talked about in the world, why wouldn’t we talk about it on our show and with the other ladies?”

That can get ugly, like the time that a Housewife, Aviva Drescher, yanked off her prosthetic leg and tossed it across a room.

“It was a great moment,” Mr. Cohen said. But, he added, viewers detected that she had staged the outburst, and she is no longer on the show. The lesson: Act crazy, but keep it real.

Questions for Andy Cohen

I’m with Mr. Cohen in the tiny studio of “Watch What Happens Live.” He stepped away from his role as Bravo’s head of development in 2013, but he said he can’t let go of the Housewives.

Originally from St. Louis, Mr. Cohen grew up watching soap operas, and he brings that sensibility to his shows, which he believes are often more substantive than the presidential campaign. For example, when Donald J. Trump alluded to his genitalia in a Republican debate, Mr. Cohen recalls thinking: “Well, now you’ve offended the ‘Housewives’ guy.”

He sees many possibilities for the future: “We will have the first daughter-of-a-Housewife Housewife at some point,” he says. “There will be a lesbian Housewife.”

I ask him: Can the word “crazy’ ever be used as a compliment? He prefers the term “outrageous.” Who pays for the women’s elaborate trips to Dubai or St. Barts? “It depends on the trip. They throw these lavish parties that they’re paying for a lot of times. That’s part of the reason why they get so invested in them.”

His guest tonight is Ms. Frankel, who spends most of her airtime defending her decision to call cast members rude names. After the show, the handlers begin forming circles around the talent. I am being cast out.

Around 11 p.m., I ride the elevator down into the real world, which is just as I left it. My love for the show has been strained by a day of abrasive personalities and aggressive product placement, but my addiction runs deep. The newest series, “The Real Housewives of Dallas,” features a former Cowboys cheerleader and a woman who was raised by carnies. How can I resist?