Once upon a time I was a HUGE Sex and the City fan. Now I’m actually baffled by this.
Somewhere in the early 2000’s I first saw this program on HBO. I was living in Dorchester with our beloved “son” Nathan, Sasha had just made his way over to Boston from Israel via Albany, and I was trying really hard to find myself. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda represented the group of girlfriends I so badly needed near me. Okay, so I understand why this show had such an impact on me – the warmth of the girlfriends, the honesty, the loyalty, the frank sex talk – oh, and the glamour; the clothes, the shoes, the apartments in Manhattan, the restaurants…
In the midst of my parents’ divorce (painful), trying to figure out life (scary, confusing), I found a great source of escapism. What didn’t hit me until years later (and I mean YEARS) is what my brother told me YEARS before – that show is no good! You can never run around NYC all day in Manolo Blahniks. Really, I have a pair. It can’t be done. The girls’ weekend sport was sex with a series of passing men. I’m a liberal chick, but COME ON! Pfizer don’t make no medication to cure what ails you ladies. Their lifestyle was totally unrealistic, which is cool, because escapism is cool … But back to the men. Their constant hunt for Mr. Right went far beyond just sex. The constant hunt and associated score-keeping was just desperate. Watch a few episodes back-to-back. You’ll see what I mean.
What Carrie could learn from Mary, a New York Times Opinion article originally published in 2003 was an eye-opener for me. It discusses the lessons of Mary Tyler Moore – and why Carrie Bradshaw should hold her head in shame, basically. It’s pretty right-on, and started to shake me out of my SATC trance.
Despite my complaints I really enjoyed parts of the series and I will still watch old episodes or the first movie from time to time. Episode highlights include when Miranda’s mother passed away and she yelled at the woman who was fitting her for a bra; Carrie’s love affair with Alexsander Petrovsky. Yes please! I mean, DA! And of course the big fat love letter to NYC – its cafes, restaurants, shops, etc. – before, during, and after 9/11. Also, the fashion (it was fun), and the girl time (funner).
However, things got ugly, real ugly when it was time to cash in at the movies. The nail in the coffin was definitely the second movie. When I found out Miranda hopped out of a Maybach in Abu Dhabi yelling “Abu Dhabi DOO!” in the tune of the “Scooby Doo” cartoon I knew it was beyond over. Embarrassingly over. This Slate.com article is pretty funny.
So rest in peace my dear beloved Sex and the City. I don’t love you like I used to, but thanks for the good times.