In the first episode of Lipstick Jungle, Brooke Shields’s character, Wendy Healy, faces a crisis when she discovers that a rival film studio is developing a project uncannily similar to her own. Irony in its chunkiest form. Jungle, after all, premiered only a month after its near-twin Cashmere Mafia. The joke becomes only funnier knowing that Mafia came into fruition after Lipstick Jungle did, following an unfriendly conversation between Jungle’s writer—Sex and the City author Candace Bushnell—and Darren Star, Mafia’s executive producer and Bushnell’s longtime Sex colleague and friend.

Oh no he didn’t—oh yes, he did. And he did it comparatively smarter, sexier, and classier. Both shows feature a clique of high-powered New York women—Jungle, three, and Mafia, four. Both shows address marital strife, adultery, family responsibility, and stiletto heels. But the women of Jungle (NBC Thursdays, 10 p.m.) are unappealing and underdeveloped.

At Jungle’s center are Wendy, Nico Reilly (Kim Raver), and Victory Ford (Lindsay Price). Shields is dull and forgettable. Raver is dismal as the overwhelmed and under-sexed Nico. Nico has dipped her foot into the extra-marital waters; attempting apprehension in these situations, Raver instead brings an irritating haughtiness to the role, devoid of any potentially redeeming subtlety. Price, meanwhile, could have been deliciously self-absorbed as Victory, the failing fashion designer, but is unable to give the character dimension. She pouts. And whines. And seeks more attention. For Jungle to be successful, its characters need to elicit empathy; but Shields and co.’s personae lack dimension.

Neither Jungle nor Mafia is particularly original. But at least Mafia’s plotlines are more realistic. In Jungle’s first episode, Victory is courted by the oh-so-suave “bazillionnaire” Joe Bennett, who sends his private jet to pick her up in Tokyo after she’s had a bad day. The two have been on only one date. Nico is pursued by a younger, equally horny man at a bar, who follows her into the bathroom, passionately kisses her, and then writes his number on her thigh with a thick, black sharpie, an action that arouses Nico nearly to the point of orgasm. It is not sexy.

Mafia (ABC Wednesdays, 10 p.m.) is more subdued. Mia Mason (Lucy Liu) is dumped by her fiancé when she outperforms him at work. Juilet Draper’s (Miranda Otto) husband is having an affair. A powerhouse in the public sphere, Juliet grapples to find the courage to advocate for herself behind closed doors. Caitlin Dowd (Bonnie Sommerville) has found herself attracted to a woman. The show handles the budding relationship tastefully. A fixation on girl-on-girl action is absent, and the focus is instead placed upon Caitlin as she grapples with her feelings and her confusion. Zoe Burden’s (Frances O’Connor) life has yet to crumble. She is the group’s anchor and demonstrates admirable stability that keeps viewers grounded amid the hubbub surrounding Mafia’s three other women. Shields is supposed to have this role in Jungle, yet fails with weak presence. (Her divorce by text message—“I WNT DVRCE”—might not help either.) The dynamics of Mafia’s women demonstrate that four is a more workable number for the genre.

Jungle begins by introducing its characters as three of Wall Street Magazine’s “50 Most Powerful Women.” “I find it offensive that women always feel like we have to apologize for our success,” says Nico. Such righteous, over-the-top declarations overwhelm the script. Jungle fails to reveal the behind-the-scenes-of-the-working-women with tact. Its explicit feminist diatribe is off-putting, predictable and frankly, outdated. Mafia, on the other hand, doesn’t pretend to be anything more than an hour of chick-flickery. Because of this, the show’s portrayal of working women is more flattering.

Neither show is Sex in the City, nor will they ever be. The women are not accessible enough. There isn’t enough sex or talk of it. Sex was refreshing, liberating, bold; premiering a decade later, and on network television, Jungle and Mafia are not unique or wild enough to attain such status.

Nevertheless, Mafia is successful where Jungle falls flat. If viewers cease expecting the Sex’s arousal factor, Mafia could become a fan-favorite.

Star may lack morals, but he does have a knack for television. As a breezy dramedy, Mafia has few flaws. Jungle cowers, wounded, in its shadow. In hindsight, Bushnell likely wishes that she had kept quiet about the development of Jungle. But given the shows’ premises, her naiveté is explained. Bushnell puts friendship first. For the women of Jungle, this may be a fatal curse; for Mafia’s ladies, a well-intentioned stab in the back.