*Don’t you think there should be a travel blog written by someone obsessed with Sex and the City called “I Couldn’t Help But Wander.” Please don’t tell me if it already exists.*
I just finished Sex and the City and it nearly ruined my life. This show, which has aged perfectly and has absolutely zero flaws, makes me want to transform into a chainsmoker who says “fabulous!” all the time. Once, I tried to order a Cosmopolitan and the bartender got visibily frustrated with me. Imagine if I lived in New York City — they’d ship me back Priority Express to the Midwest.
Much like my relationship with Mamma Mia, I made Never Having Seen SATC a personality trait. But then I watched Mamma Mia a year ago, so I really had no excuse not to let go and find out what is up with this Carrie Bradshaw gal. So when, a few weeks ago, I felt a pang to listen to four women gab about their hetereosexual escapades, I knew it was time.
I see the appeal of the show right off the bat. When Americans dream of an international wonderland, they think of Paris. When young girls growing up dream of anywhere but where they are, they think of New York City — A Midwesterner’s Paris!
Living in New York used to feel like my one sole purpose. No career aspirations, I just imagined myself walking around the streets and, well, being fabulous! But watching the show now, I’m exhausted. I live in Chicago, which is sort of like training-wheels for NYC, and I find myself constantly overwhelmed by the options of things to do (code for “places to buy things.”) And don’t even get me STARTED on dinner reservations, I say while ashing a cigarette with my manicured hand.
One of my favorite little mini story arcs was Aidan’s middle-of-nowhere cabin getaway, and how out of place Carrie felt being there. Her movements in the space were erratic and hesitant, like if she misstepped, she’d be covered in mud. Which did ultimately happen. My body slows down when we are at the cabin. I feel like I can relax and settle in, because it feels the most familiar and honestly? The most appealing to me. NYC is the dream right up until the point your own hometown replica becomes the dream.
The show’s potrayal of female friendship does hold up; Laughing, crying, fighting, and wearing terribly ugly outfits that are trendy at the time.
A lot of people proport to find the show trivial; “they only talk about men!” But then again, I’m talking about men a lot in real life. Not because I want to date them, but because they all seem to have their toes dipped in the many facets of my life. And besides, an early pillar of platonic female intimacy is talking about boys and crushes. Are we supposed to just leave that in the past with our microwave nachos and makeovers? Yeah, right. What is a haircut if not a makeover? And what is a brunch if not a time to lament about whatever our metaphorical boyfriend is?
But the thing that seems more important than anything else is Carrie’s writing. Every time I mentioned that I was watching the show, I heard “Carrie is such a terrible writer.” Now, I’m not here to discuss and conclude whether or not Carrie is a writer of note. Mostly because she’s a fictional character, and she’s a podcaster now! Rather, I’m interested in the reasons why people are quick to dismiss Carrie’s abilities.
“Carrie only asks questions, never gives answers.” While I’m not one to speak on the rules of writing — I’ve never taken a creative writing class — writers should be asking questions. A few weeks ago, I clicked on a Buzzfeed article on Facebook and it said that a sign of intelligence is asking a bunch of questions. Is this true? Was I just tricked by clickbait? Am I being intelligent right now?
Obviously writers shouldn’t just ask questions, because if that were allowed, I’d have my third book deal with Penguin Random House as we SPEAK. But I’m not offended by her curiousity. What I am offended by is her lack of notetaking. How does this woman write a column, quoting her friends and connecting througlines, without ever taking notes? I wish I actually had an answer.
I don’t need to talk about the groundbreaking elements of the show, because many people before me already have. I don’t need to talk about the problematic elements of the show, because many people before me already have. So what do I need to talk about? Thank you so much for asking!
First on my docket, I need to share that I made a tomato cheddar tart the other day, and it was wonderful. I need to share that Carrie is a comically bad friend, and that made me wonder if I’m a bad friend (don’t answer that.) I would like to share that I was sad when Charlotte quit her job because she got married to that Twin Peaks guy. And I was horrified when her desperation for a child reached a level to where she was transferring her feelings onto her pregnant DOG. But as someone who desires to remain childless, I understand that storyline wasn’t for me. Yet I don’t want crazy adventurous sex, or really any sex, so why didn’t Samantha’s journey horrify me? Perhaps the root of the issues lies in dogs!
I’m biased, but I think this was the perfect time for me to watch the show, having the critical thinking skills to pluck what I liked and to dump the rest. Perhaps I’ll watch it again, mid Seventh-wave feminism, and disagree with everything I feel now, including the dogs. But two things are for sure, I’ll still romanticize that cabin, and I definitely will not watch the reboot.