In the spring of 1995 I was too old for summer camp yet too young to be (legally) employed at a crappy seasonal job. I knew I would likely be spending those hot months hanging out at my aunt and uncle's pool with my nose buried in horror novels, mostly of the R.L. Stine and Dean Koontz oeuvre.

At this point in my adolescence, I didn’t fit the mold of the rest of my peers. While they were shooting hoops at the park or riding their bikes throughout the neighborhood, I was absorbing the editorial content and schedules in TV Guide, noting the listings of slasher movies I could record on the family VCR.

And while my classmates obsessed over the teen shenanigans of Beverly Hills, 90210, I found more compelling entertainment in what I thought was more mature fare like David E. Kelley’s Picket Fences and cable reruns of Knots Landing. I also knew I would be spending my summer speculating about the fate of nearly a dozen characters on Melrose Place, the Fox primetime soap that would go on to define ‘90s television for me.

Anatomy of an explosion

On May 22, 1995, Melrose Place ended its third season with one of the biggest cliffhangers of the decade – and one of the most memorable in TV history. It was a delicious convergence of storylines that cemented the show’s legendary status in pop culture.

After two seasons of being betrayed, bothered, and bitchslapped, Dr. Kimberly Shaw had plenty of reasons to hate everyone who resided at the titular apartment complex. Played by Marcia Cross nine years before she moved to Wisteria Lane on Desperate Housewives, Kimberly hated Michael (Thomas Calabro) for driving drunk and getting her into the car accident that ruined her life. She hated Matt (Doug Savant) for conspiring with Michael to hide damning evidence against him, and for literally snatching her wig in front of her colleagues. She hated Sydney, Michael's former sister-in-law, played by Laura Leighton, for making a move on him. She hated Jane (Josie Bissett) after the plan to frame her for Michael's hit-and-run backfired. She hated Amanda (Heather Locklear) for meddling with Michael and stealing Peter's (Jack Wagner) attention away from her. And she hated Jo (Daphne Zuniga) because she gave birth to the baby Kimberly could never have, which subsequently led to Kimberly kidnapping and breastfeeding said infant like Rebecca De Mornay in The Hand That Rocks the Cradle.

Everyone else in the building was just collateral damage.

So what's a gal to do with all that rage while — oh, yeah — being haunted by visions of her mother's rapist whom she killed in self-defense as a little girl? Answer: Strategically plant four firebombs (yes, real bombs) around the building and detonate them, of course!

A delayed explosion

Kimberly’s bombs didn't go off until the fourth season premiere in September, a decision made by the network in response to the sensitivity surrounding the real-life April 19, 1995 bombing of a federal building in Oklahoma City. But what went down 30 years ago was enough to captivate my 15-year-old self.

After waiting four long months, millions of fans and I finally got to watch Kimberly press the button and obliterate half the building, the blast flinging her into the pool like a ragdoll. One life was claimed (Morgan Brittany's Mackenzie Hart), Alison (Courtney Thorne-Smith) was temporarily blinded, and everyone else walked away with minor cuts and bruises, leaving their photogenic features intact.

As for the characters who missed the big bang, there was still plenty of death to deal with. Jake (Grant Show) killed his evil brother Jess (guest star Dan Cortese), pushing him off a building in self-defense, and Matt was framed for the murder of his boyfriend’s estranged wife.

Also killed (arguably): the writers’ ability to concoct more compelling stories throughout the show’s highly demanding 32-episode order per season. Melrose may have jumped the shark with this ratings stunt, but it made for OMG-worthy TV that would have made TikTok gag, had it existed at the time.

An alternate explosion

Melrose’s whopping 32-episode order for each season was a result of “double-ups” in which the cast and crew shot two episodes simultaneously across multiple soundstages. On the January 5 episode of the Melrose Place recap podcast Still The Place, writer-producer Chip Hayes explained to podcast co-hosts (and Melrose alums) Laura Leighton, Courtney Thorne-Smith, and Daphne Zuniga that double-ups eventually ”saved a lot of money because you were still paying rentals on the stages for the same amount of time… so I could split that out between all the episodes, and suddenly I’m banking some money.”

Therefore, by the time writers were plotting the end of Season 3, Melrose had a budget surplus that could afford them a big, stunt-filled finale. In fact, the original plan for the explosive episode featured Kimberly flying a plane into the apartment complex (six years before the tragic events of 9/11). Hayes said, “When [series creator] Darren Star calls me up and says, ‘I wanna fly an airplane into the building and blow it up,’ I’m not going, ‘Yeah, right.’ I said, ‘We can blow it up though,’ and that’s because that money came from my little slush fund from double-ups.”

Taking a plane out of the equation, production built a replica of half of the building in the parking lot of Santa Clarita Studios, where the show regularly filmed. It proved to be their most challenging shoot. “We had done some small explosions on stage with windows blowing out, and we had air canons blowing Heather [Locklear] off the balcony,” Hayes said. “And then we went outside and blew it up and burned it down… It cut together great.”

After the explosion

Kimberly detonating those bombs in the apartment complex was the moment the show fully embraced its campy brilliance, solidifying itself as pop culture gold in my eyes. At the time, no other drama on TV came close to its over-the-top mayhem, yet the show was never quite seen the same again. The explosion ignited a whirlwind of outrageous storylines in Season 4 that blew up the traditional soap opera mold. Some viewers jumped ship as things got crazier, but I was hooked. I leaned into the madness and stayed with the show all the way through to its final episode in 1999.

As a young TV viewer growing up in New Rochelle, New York, in the ‘90s, Los Angeles was to me the fascinating crown jewel of the West Coast, a glimmering city full of beautiful people and fabulous places where beautiful people mingled with each other and, yes, slept with other beautiful people. This impression was mostly informed by a steady and possibly unhealthy diet of other Aaron Spelling dramas throughout my formative years (Models Inc., Malibu Shores, Pacific Palisades, Titans). But none had affected me as much as Melrose Place; I still remain wary of bomb-happy doctors in wigs concealing nasty head wounds.

Now that I proudly call Los Angeles my home, I can't help but feel a tickle of nostalgia whenever I drive by the real Melrose Place, a two-block strip in West Hollywood that's home to pricey boutiques and coffee shops. Also thrilling is knowing my own residence is a mere 20-minute walk from the Spanish-tiled complex that stood for the Melrose apartments in the show’s exterior shots.

I like to think that 1995 me would be in awe of 2025 me, especially after surviving 23 years of everything this city has thrown at me – personally and professionally. I’m an L.A. veteran now, and I honestly can't imagine living anywhere else. My narrative has had its fair share of twists and turns, tragedies and celebrations. Characters have come in and out of my life; some have been special guest stars while others have gone on to become series regulars. And there will always be a "new season" on the horizon filled with new and exciting developments for me and everyone I care about. One that will probably make us look back at this current storyline and ask, "What were the writers thinking?"

All seven seasons of Melrose Place are currently streaming on Paramount+.

Vicky