I have just started rewatching because my roommate has NEVER SEEN THEM (except on TBS), so we are on the first season, back when there were still talking heads, and when Carrie had unlimited miscellaneous corportate/financey/lawyery friends, and also a "friend" named Skipper: a Tom Hanks doppleganger who is so awkward and sweet and dates Miranda, and even though he is annoying, someone should have married him probably.
Don't get me wrong: I love you Sex and the City, you made that summer in college that I sprained my ankle and ate my way through my parent's kitchen a blast. You offset the stress of watching the first 3 seasons of Lost all in a row, by being light and fluffy and filled with warm New York City dreams of the late nineties. Tasti D-Lite and spaghetti straps, endless brunches and comical cabbies, clubs that aren't crowded or horrible, and so many drinks- but no hangovers. That was the life I wanted to live. And when I got back to NYU for my sophomore year- I was going to live that life.
I didn't. In case you were wondering. Plus I was only 19. BUT THE CARRIE DIARIES WEREN'T OUT THEN. (And I don't watch them anyway)
In the 3 episodes that I have just rewached from Season 1, here are some reasons why you shouldn't believe everything you see on Sex and the City.
(In case you were confused and thought that fiction was reality, which I apparently did.)
(Note- all of these example are from the first few episodes.)
She Bumps into Mr. Big EVERYWHERE. I mean, everywhere. Getting out of cabs, in restaurants, at clubs- all those clubs, at random lawyery parties, at outdoor cafes as she walks by... Everywhere. Fate is pushing them together. And he is "so cool" and not even into Samantha's sexual proposition, and he asks Carrie on some verrry vague dates- only to flake out. But she is so uber chill about it all when she runs into him brunching outside with friends and trying to fix the wobbly table like a modern day wealthy brunch hero. She shows her indifferent intelligence by solving his crossword puzzle for him from feet away, revealing super-hero-strength vision, and in his awe of her eyesight, he decides now is the time to not be a flake. He abandons his quest for a sturdy-legged-table and rushes after her.
Paraphrased: "Let's have dinner for real now, my depressed, divorced, codependent friend sitting back at the brunch table is now finally dating an old gold-digger/escort, so I am now free to date again."... "Mr. Big, I may be wearing a fur coat in the summertime, and I may be good at real crossword puzzles, but not HUMAN CROSSWORD PUZZLES, YOU WEALTHY PUZZLE!".
|happiness and style|
These late 30-somethings women are always at Clubs. Clubs, clubs, walking in heals and clubs. Now, maybe I am just a flats-wearing-hermit. But really? I mean they make the club thing seem like a legitimate way to spend your life. Like a totally normal way to spend the majority of your nights. So many clubs, and so many sweet cocktails. And they conveniently forget to show the hangovers the next day.
The 20-somethings Club. Well, I just watched the episode where Carrie dates a 20-something who lives like a depressed college student with a toilet in the middle of his apartment. But the weirder part of the episode is: the "20-somethings club" that has only 20-somethings in it. Apparently. And she finds her tongue ringed 20-something lover there again a second night, because he only hangs out at this 20-somethings club. And because, in the 90's, people really had to rely on fate because there were no cell phones. If there is such thing as a 20-somethings bar or club, I want someone to let me know. (I still prefer my bathrooms with walls though.)
She wears a light blue feather boa on a date with a French man who thinks she is a high class prostitute. Actually, that makes sense. Sort of.
Mr. Big probably knew she was 'the one' the moment he knocked into her bag on the street and all her condoms fell out onto the sidewalk. And then he kindly picked them up and handed them back to her with a big wealthy smile. That was their very first chance encounter. Modern day love, people.
Are there women REALLY that addicted to shoes?
Charlotte has already had about 4 boyfriends over the course of 3 episodes?
Why is that stock lesbian character ok with going along with Miranda's little charade? She knows she is being used so Miranda can get invited to her boss's dinner party (whose wife wanted a lesbian couple in her social circle). Why does she let it happen? Fight the man, girl! Don't let the man and his wife turn you into a social fetish!
And a personal issue: How would I have ever been able to wear spaghetti straps? None of the ones I see include a bra. The braless 90's. This is one of the most unrealistic parts about this show, and 90's in general.
That is all I can remember for now. I didn't mention the "How does Carrie afford that apartment on a meager 1-column-a-week-freelance-pay" because, you know, it has been asked a million times before. (And the show's half-assed explanation of "Rent Control" doesn't work for me.)
I LOVE you Sex and the City, I really do. But you gave me unrealistic expectations of nights-able-to-be-spent-out-drinking, and also of the role that Fate would play in my life.
(Maybe more to come if I keep watching the show with Annie. Maybe not.) (Aiden is obviously not on the show yet, but remember when I met him!?!?!?!)
( You are WELCOME for all of the parentheses. I know, I know: it makes reading a BLAST.)