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Tag: Carrie Bradshaw

  • Charlotte York: Not Necessarily the OG Practitioner of Shrekking, But Definitely the Most Successful Example of the Intended Result

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    Like “delulu” or “skibidi,” there seems to be no shortage of unexpected and (brainrot-inspired) slang words cropping up in the mainstream (and hell, even being added to the dictionary) in 2025. So it is that yet another word no one expected to crop up as “a thing” this year is “Shrekking.” Because, after all, it’s not as though Shrek 5 is out until next year. In any case, it’s a term that provides yet another testament to just how dire, how desperate dating (if it can even still be called that) has become in the post-swiping era. Not solely in the “straight” world either. Though that’s most assuredly, as Sabrina Carpenter would attest, where the male pickins are slimmest. 

    For those who couldn’t guess, the meaning behind the newly popular term is meant to indicate when someone is “dating down” a.k.a. lowering their expectations in the looks and personality (and, of course, etiquette) department in the hope that, because of said person’s glaring deficiencies, they might at least deliver in terms of treating you nicely instead of like shit. Alas, as Miranda Hobbes in Sex and the City said in the pilot episode, “I’ve been out with some of those guys. The short, fat, poor ones. It makes absolutely no difference. They are just as self-centered and unappreciative as the good-looking ones.” In other words, just as dickish and horrifying on the behavior front. 

    And, talking of Sex and the City (which is probably less tiring than talking of And Just Like That… or its series finale), it isn’t Miranda who is most known for “dating down,” despite that infamous line in the pilot, but rather, Charlotte York (Kristin Davis). More specifically, it’s her beloved dynamic with Harry Goldenblatt (Evan Handler), the “Shrek” of the relationship, that serves as at least part of the reason why women remain convinced that going for a guy who is less attractive than them will result in their thus far elusive “happily ever after.” Because, yes, ultimately Harry does turn out to be “living proof” (even if only in fictional form) that Shrekking can work. 

    Granted, more concrete, real-life examples of women doing so have not proven nearly as successful, with perhaps the first “prototype” in the land of the famous being Marilyn Monroe. And although it’s Arthur Miller’s appearance in comparison to hers that are called out the most (see: “Egghead Weds Hourglass”), Joe DiMaggio wasn’t exactly a looker either. In any event, Marilyn seemed to set a precedent for future hot girls (both famous and “civilian” alike) to lower their standards in the “aesthetics department” as well, all in the hope that there was something to this idea that uglier men surely must be nicer. Often times, however, it seems the uglier the dude, the crueler he actually is. Not so with Harry though…

    But back to the real-life examples of women who “dated down” and, unlike Charlotte, did not have the same fairy-tale ending. There was Princess Diana with Prince Charles (married for fifteen years, though living separate lives for a large bulk of that time), Christie Brinkley with Billy Joel (married for nine years), Julia Roberts with Lyle Lovett (married for just under two years) and Drew Barrymore with Tom Green (married for all of nine months). Shockingly, it was the latter who filed for divorce from her, though both cited irreconcilable differences. Much the same that Charlotte would with Trey MacDougal (Kyle MacLachlan) thanks mostly to her inability to reconcile with his erectile dysfunction. Even though it’s his mother (as usual), Bunny (Frances Sternhagen), who is the one making things feel so irreconcilable most of the time. This ramps up in the season five episode, “Plus One Is the Loneliest Number,” when Bunny traipses into “Charlotte’s” apartment one morning after the latter had just finished, shall we say, vetting her next Prince Charming, Justin Anderson III (Peter Giles). But it doesn’t take long for Bunny to chase him away by announcing that Charlotte is still married to her son. Sure, technically. Even though they’ve been separated for ages by now. 

    Bunny’s “pop-up” appearance, however, is what ultimately sends Charlotte straight into the arms of her true Prince Charming, initially mistaken for mere “Shrek” in the season five episode, “Critical Condition.” This is the first time Charlotte encounters her ogre, so to speak, after realizing that 1) she needs a lawyer to get Bunny off her dick about the apartment belonging to the MacDougals and 2) the lawyer she’s currently consulting with on her would-be messy divorce from Trey is too hot to be herself around. Or, as Carrie phrases it in a voiceover, “Charlotte realized she could never be as ugly as she needed to be in front of a man she considered so handsome.” It’s at that very moment that “gross” Harry, the other partner at the firm, walks in to grab a bagel and starts eating with all the grace of, well, a beast (with Charlotte and Harry at another point being described by Carrie as “the bachelorette and the beast”). Suddenly, Charlotte sees the potential in being able to speak freely about Trey—to get as “ugly” as she wants—with Harry. Thus, “And just like that, Charlotte changed lawyers.” And, in the process, would end up finding her Prince Charming as a result of quote unquote lowering her standards. 

    Of course, Harry’s “style” (sartorially, hygienically and otherwise) still takes some getting used to for Charlotte. And if it weren’t for the “hot s-e-x,” as she spells it out to Anthony (Mario Cantone), she might not be so easily enticed to go for the Shrekking maneuver before it had this name. But, in the next episode after meeting Harry, “The Big Journey,” he manages to turn on all the charm long enough to seduce Charlotte into bed (it doesn’t hurt that the bed in question is inside a very cheesy—but “hot”—bachelor pad he’s conveniently offered to show Charlotte as a way to help her find a new apartment). Out of nowhere, and much to her dismay, she finds herself falling for Harry’s line about her “perfect pink lips” and how he can’t stop fantasizing about them.  

    In the wake of the tryst, Charlotte confesses to Anthony at a gay club, “He’s my divorce lawyer and I don’t even like him,” in addition to, “I don’t wanna date him. He’s not very attractive.” And, as Charlotte made clear from the outset of the series, her criteria for Mr. Right not only includes a certain kind of job and “pedigree,” but also a certain kind of look (read: Ken doll handsome). Probably not just because Charlotte is vain, but also because she’s genuinely thinking about the “right” biological combination that will make her kids look attractive as well. 

    With Harry, however, all that staunch “logic and reason” of Charlotte’s goes right out the window along with her panties. For, by the time the finale of season five, “I Love a Charade,” rolls around, she can’t deny that not only is it “the best sex of her life,” but that she really does like Harry. That still doesn’t make it easy for her to totally ignore his general uncouthness or hairy back, but, in the end, she can’t deny that Shrekking actually paid off in a big way for her. Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) certainly couldn’t say the same about The Turtle (Timothy Wheeler) in the season one episode of SATC titled “The Turtle and the Hare.” Because, while The Turtle was willing to go along with all of Samantha’s “fixer-upper” ideas for him, Harry—a true Shrek through and through—did well to never much bother trying to alter his “crass” ways or physical appearance for Charlotte. Except a botched attempt at trying to get his back waxed for her in “I Love a Charade” (something that evidently “took” in subsequent seasons, for his hairy back never makes a cameo again). 

    In fact, it would turn out to be Charlotte making all the personal changes in her life for Harry, going so far as to convert to Judaism so that he’ll ask her to marry him (this plot, too, hits its rough patch in the sixth season, but eventually resolves by episode six, “Hop, Skip and a Week”). And while every other relationship in SATC can never manage to stand the test of time, it’s Charlotte and Harry’s that keeps on going strong, even in And Just Like That… (“zany”—read: non sequitur—as their plots are in these “later years” of their marriage). 

    Alas, Charlotte is among the rare examples to have gotten such a great relationship out of her Shrekking endeavors (which is probably why it’s fictional). And while many (especially women) are willing to try Shrekking, most end up only getting “Shrekked.” In other words, deigning to let someone less attractive have the privilege of accessing their body only to still end up being disappointed and/or getting their heart broken by the Shrek of the hour.  

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Party of One: With the And Just Like That… Series Finale, Michael Patrick King Gives Carrie the Ending He Always Wanted To—Albeit Poorly Executed

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    As has been Michael Patrick King’s wont throughout the third and final season of And Just Like That…, there have been a lot of callbacks to previous scenarios in Sex and the City. Whether this is truly intentional or not—or just a matter of not “remembering” the similarities (like not remembering that Lisa Todd Wexley’s [Nicole Ari Parker] dad had already died in season one)—the fact remains that the overall effect makes it seem less “calculated” and more like King and co. were out of truly fresh ideas. 

    With the supposed final chapter on Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) closing (though, based on past occurrences, viewers know that Bradshaw always has a tendency to “reanimate”), her conclusion is not only somewhat forced—a means to repair the ending that she was given for the series finale of Sex and the City—but also a redux of SATC’s season five episode, “Anchors Away.” In it, the running motif is based on something Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) tells her friends, including Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon) and Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall): “Everyone knows you only get two great loves in your life.” She then spells out, without thinking, that Big (Chris Noth) and Aidan (John Corbett) were Carrie’s, leaving her somewhat flummoxed about what that’s supposed to mean for her romantic future. However, another running theme, one that’s always been there in this particular show, is that the city of New York is her great love. Or, as she cheesily puts it to the others, “You’re never alone in New York, it’s the perfect place to be single. The city is your date.” 

    That doesn’t mean the city still won’t make you feel like shit for being “alone,” as it does when Carrie, in her bid to have a little date with herself, de facto New York, ends up caught in a rainstorm after realizing the Guggenheim is closed on the day she wants to visit it (so much for being a seasoned New Yorker). Even though, at present, the Guggenheim is open seven days a week. In any case, as a result of the closure and bad weather, she’s led to Café Edison (another now defunct NYC institution); never mind that, geographically speaking, it wouldn’t have been possible for her to just “stumble into it” a few blocks from the Guggenheim, seeing as how it was about a forty-five minute walk to do so (Carrie instead describes it as a mere “several wet blocks later”). But then, SATC has never prided itself on a sense of realism—so how could anyone have expected that And Just Like That… would? 

    However, one thing that both shows undeniably have in common is parading the question that King brought up on Kristin Davis’ Are You a Charlotte? podcast, the question that has been at the core of the narrative from its inception: “Am I enough? Am I enough alone?” In “Anchors Away,” it seems as though, for Carrie, the answer is still no. In fact, she’s disturbed from the outset by her experience at Café Edison, when the proprietor barks, “Singles at the counter!” Carrie tries to push back with, “Oh, I was hoping to get a table—” “Singles, counter!”

    At said seating arrangement, Carrie is further horrified by a glimpse into her future via the other woman at the “singles counter,” Joan (played by Sylvia Miles, a New York fixture until her death in 2019), who begins gabbing with her immediately. Taking a shine to Carrie because she sees something of herself in this person, Joan announces of the singles counter at the café, “We single gals gotta have a port in the storm, am I right?” Carrie doesn’t look so convinced of that being true as she observes Joan crushing some white powder on her plate. Joan explains, “Lithium. I like to sprinkle it on my ice cream. You ever try it?” Carrie says she hasn’t and, when further questioned by Joan about what “mood elevator” Carrie is on, the latter tells Joan she isn’t “on” anything. Joan smiles, saying she used to be like Carrie until she broke up with some guy named Morty in ‘82, adding, “Thought somebody better would come along. Never happened.” Obviously, Carrie feels the sting of that comment, having recently ended things with Aidan for what was then the second time. 

    What’s more, the question of the week for her column is whether or not, “when it comes to being carefree single girls, have we missed the boat?” For Carrie, the idea of losing her ability to be single without judgment a.k.a. being single while also being “of a certain age” is what scares her the most. More than being single itself. Which is why, later, at the Navy party (with Fleet Week also being a through-line of the episode), Carrie takes a look around at the goings-on—including Charlotte flashing a tit to one of the Navy officers—and realizes this kind of scene isn’t for her anymore, informing Samantha, “I was right. This ship has sailed. And, tragically, I’m still on it.” 

    In the so-called final episode of And Just Like That…, “Party of One,” Carrie is met with a similar feeling in the opening scene, which itself echoes the one when she’s at the “singles counter” with Joan. Only instead of having a live “seat mate” this time, And Just Like That… aims to show just how far Carrie has been thrust into the future—apart from the robot servers and digital menus—with a Tommy Tomato stuffed toy (sure to become a real thing after this…then again, maybe not). This is the “creature” she ends up sitting across from at the restaurant. Of which she tells the host, “I was walking by. It looked so interesting.” A comment that sounds borderline racist in that an Asian restaurant would be described as “interesting” to her at this juncture of her existence in NYC. Or the fact that, also at this juncture, she should be surprised by a menu presented to her on an iPad, where she selects the items she wants via the screen. Treating it as though she’s never seen one before at another restaurant, Carrie goes through a whole “I’m so naïve” bit before the host that seated her presents her with the abovementioned Tommy Tomato, beaming at Carrie as she explains, “You don’t have to eat alone.” 

    This time, she’s even more horrified/affronted than she was when she got saddled with Joan at the singles counter. And also this time, the geography of where Carrie ends up eating totally doesn’t match the reality of where she would be. For the location it’s shot at, Haidilao Huoguo, is in Flushing. Oh sure, Queens might have come up in the world, but definitely not to the point where Carrie Bradshaw would fuck with it on a whim. Though that isn’t to say she wouldn’t shlep to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, which is where it looks like she, Charlotte, Lisa and Seema (Sarita Choudhury) are when they attend a bridal fashion show. Before entering said show, Carrie recounts what happened to her: “Ladies, they put a boy doll across from anyone eating alone.” Not exactly great publicity for Haidilao Huoguo, but oh well.

    What’s more, gone are the days when, as in the season two episode, “They Shoot Single People, Don’t They?,” the relative “lack of technology” didn’t make such an experience feel all the more sad and bleak. And yes, at the end of said episode, Carrie has the same epiphany about an “okayness” with potentially being alone forever, delivering the voiceover, “Instead of running away from the idea of a life alone, I’d better sit down and take that fear to lunch.” She does just that, and, since phones weren’t pervasive in 1999, when the episode aired, she didn’t even have that as a crutch for sitting alone at a restaurant either, proudly declaring, “So I sat there and had a glass of wine…alone. No books, no man, no friends, no armor, no faking.”

    This constant exploration of what it would mean to be truly alone, perennially single is the North Star of the SATC universe (in addition to the four friends being each other’s true soul mates). Coming up repeatedly every time Carrie found herself, yet again, in the position of being an “old maid” (another trope that arises in the season five episode, “Luck Be An Old Lady”). In AJLT, with the realization that both Big and Aidan, her “two great loves,” as Charlotte once put it, are no longer options—seeing as how Big is dead and Aidan is overused (which is really saying something considering how overused Big once seemed to be)—Carrie, for the first time, doesn’t appear as though she’s holding out hope for someone to be her “other half” in the future. 

    As she tells Charlotte during their “walk and talk” after the bridal fashion show, “Who will I be alone? Yes, I know I’ve lived alone a lot, but I’ve never lived alone without the thought that I wouldn’t be alone for long.” She then concludes, “I have to quit thinking: maybe a man. And start accepting: maybe just me.” Charlotte, of course, refuses to give credence to the idea that being single at Carrie’s age is acceptable (just as she refused to accept it back when they were all “spring chickens”). Or that it might be a genuine possibility, which is why she decides to invite Mark Kasabian (Victor Garber), the art gallery owner that employs her, to Thanksgiving at Miranda’s, hoping Carrie will see that there are, in fact, still plenty of non-jank fish in the sea. Even at “their age.”

    Carrie, of course, isn’t having it, mainly because she’s never been even remotely attracted to nice guys (this, too, was part of why Aidan never really “did it” for her—granted, he showed himself to be a true asshole later on, which was, funnily enough, when she was most committed to the relationship). But Carrie isn’t so quick to get on board with Charlotte’s plucky attitude about “male prospects” for the future, with even Duncan Reeves (Jonathan Cake), the British bloke she finally slept with after a season of flirtatious energy, not panning out as a viable suitor. 

    All of which leads Carrie—and the viewer—back to what she had said at the end of the SATC series finale, “An American Girl in Paris (Part Deux)”: “The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself.” As King reminded, “That was the sort of mission statement of Sex and the City. The interesting trick to it is Carrie then answered a phone call from a man who was coming to be with her [Mr. Big]. [But] it was always in my mind, ‘What happens if there’s no phone call?’ How strong of an individual do you have to be to make that same sentence when there’s no one on the horizon?” With Carrie adding to that sologamist line while answering Big’s phone call, “And if you find someone to love the ‘you’ you love, well, that’s just fabulous.”

    But in And Just Like That…, with Big dead, Aidan insufferable and Carrie being “too old” to have as many options on the dating scene as before, it appears King saw the opportunity to give his ultimate main character the ending he wasn’t bold enough to back then. The ending he didn’t think viewers would accept back then: “The woman realized she was not alone. She was on her own.” This being the “dazzling prose” Carrie chooses to conclude her 1800s-era manuscript with, despite the recommendation her agent gives her about how this would be a tragedy, especially for the time period. 

    And yes, viewers would have been ready to accept this conclusion—if only it hadn’t all been delivered so poorly…and so randomly, to boot. Complete with the much talked about clogged/overflowing toilet scene, which has absolutely no relevance or use to the episode. It can’t even be argued that it offers “comic relief” value. It’s just full-stop disgusting and basically mirrors the belief that this entire series was a turd that kept floating up. Until now. For that was it, the end. Finito. No more. And, by playing the SATC theme song during the credits, it just goes to show that King and co. were fundamentally trying to signal that all they wanted was to do their best to give the original Sex and the City the ending they thought it deserved. The more “courageous” ending for Carrie. For, as King also told Davis on her podcast, SATC was always about “the anarchy of saying single people are enough, being single is enough.”

    However, the way Carrie makes it look in these final scenes of AJLT, it doesn’t come across like that at all. Not even with the contrived musical selection of Barry White’s “You’re The First, The Last, My Everything” (which, by the way, is still much too easily associated with Ally McBeal—the eponymous character of said series, incidentally, ending up “alone” as well, perhaps proving it was more avant-garde in its day than SATC). 

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Every Subject That Nobody Wants This “Illuminates” Already Happened on Sex and the City

    Every Subject That Nobody Wants This “Illuminates” Already Happened on Sex and the City

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    As though to prove a point about Sex and the City’s long-lasting impact, Megan Thee Stallion recently appeared on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon to tell him, despite other things she had to promote, that she had only just started watching the show and couldn’t believe how long she had slept on it. It would seem that the creator of Nobody Wants This, Erin Foster, might have been banking on people (like Megan Thee Stallion) to continue sleeping on said show—otherwise why borrow so many tropes from it? Not least of which, of course, is that its female lead, Joanne (Kristen Bell), would have to convert to Judaism in order to be with Noah, a rabbi who she encounters at a dinner party hosted by her friend and “PR gal,” Ashely (Sherry Cola). Which is where the SATC comparisons already start to flicker in. Because while, sure, Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) didn’t have to convert to Judaism for Harry Goldenblatt (Evan Handler), it was an integral part of the storyline in terms of “making their relationship work” (in addition to Charlotte having to overcome how much less attractive Harry was than her).

    But, obviously, Joanne’s character is much more in line with Carrie Bradshaw’s (Sarah Jessica Parker) “breed.” For, like Carrie, Joanne is something of a “sexual anthropologist,” using her dates as fodder for her podcast, called, naturally, Nobody Wants This (on a related note: to “update” Carrie’s column shtick for the present, she does get a podcast on the SATC “sequel series,” …And Just Like That). The difference between her and Carrie (apart from sartorial bombast) is that Joanne “co-researches” the dating scene with her sister and best friend, Morgan (Justine Lupe). It is Morgan who serves as the three-in-one sounding board—embodying the Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte characters all at the same time—for all of Joanne’s dating woes/horror stories. And this is something we’re given insight into from the moment the show starts and Morgan comes to collect Joanne from a bad date that the latter ditches out on because the guy keeps talking way too much about his grandma and the tragedy of losing her when he was twelve.

    The shit-talking of the first scene segues into the podcasting (and continued shit-talking) of the second scene, wherein Morgan not only expositorily informs Joanne that they’ve recorded one hundred and nineteen episodes, but that, throughout each one, she has revealed the same thing over and over again: “When you find a nice, normal guy…you find fault with him.” Case in point: “Grandma Guy.” Morgan further proffers that maybe Joanne doesn’t even want to find a real relationship, a theory that of course has truth to it since, without “bad date inspiration,” she’ll end up like Carrie in the season five episode, “Unoriginal Sin,” lamenting, “I’m not getting laid. Therefore…I’m getting laid off” (though, ultimately, she wasn’t).

    This “deliberately self-sabotaging” epiphany comes for both women. That’s right, even blind-to-everything Carrie is forced to have this epiphany about herself after a bad breakup (the first one, anyway) with Mr. Big (Chris Noth). The “breakthrough” occurs when her friends make her see a therapist named Dr. G (Anne Lange), who has another patient named Seth (Jon Bon Jovi) that Carrie keeps flirting with in the waiting room. It’s only after the two finally have sex that they each understand why there were attracted to one another. For Seth, it’s because he immediately loses interest in a woman after sleeping with her. For Carrie, the according revelation is, “I pick the wrong men.”

    As for Joanne, she’s more open about the joy of picking the wrong men for the sake of “the story” a.k.a. her podcast, which has started to gain enough traction to become considered as worthy of being a corporate acquisition. This almost “willful” choosing of the wrong men is done in a similar vein as Carrie, who relies on not just her friends’ relationship horrors, but her own in order to come up with a weekly column called, what else, “Sex and the City.” It is in this headspace that Joanne gleefully accepts Ashley’s invite to a dinner party where all the male guests “sound terrible.” Including a rabbi named Noah Roklov (Adam Brody, perennially resurrected, if one will pardon the Christian allusion). Except that Noah turns out to be the man she’s instantly attracted to upon entering the space. Only she doesn’t know he’s the rabbi because he doesn’t come out and admit it, instead going along with her mistaken assumption that it’s another guy at the party with a beard.

    When she does get the big unveiling of his identity, the reaction is that there is no romantic future whatsoever. But, of course, that’s what makes the allure all the more prominent. Which is how she ends up walking into his temple soon after (such Carrie behavior) to exchange a “witty repartee” also in the style of “flirtatious” Carrie when Noah jokingly asks, “Are you a member of this temple?” She replies, “You guys do memberships? Is there a gym?” Ho-ho-ho-har-har-har.

    In “Either Aura,” the third episode, Joanne spends the majority of it dissecting a text and the lack of response it gets the way Carrie would spend entire brunches and lunches dissecting something Big or [insert name of some other asshole here] did and what it “means.” Then there is the kind of spiraling she does in the season three episode, “Drama Queens,” wherein it takes Aidan (John Corbett) ignoring her for her to suddenly comprehend that losing his interest would be the worst thing ever. That’s the same kind of spiral Joanne is on throughout “Either Aura,” waiting for Noah to respond to a text that her sister tells her was “weird” (the text being: “I think I’m pregnant” in regard to how good their first kiss was).

    At first, Noah’s availability is almost a detriment to his “desirability.” Because, as Carrie says in “Drama Queens,” “I’m used to the hunt and this is just…effortless. It’s freakin’ me out.” Charlotte eventually has to interject, “I don’t believe this! Now we’re dumping guys for being too available!” The prospect of Noah not being available (you know, for other reasons besides being a rabbi) is equally as terrifying to Joanne, prompting her to wonder (or being unable to “help but wonder”) if she’s a “good” person. As in, morally decent enough for a rabbi.

    All of this making “her stomach flip all on her own” (another Carrie quote from “Drama Queens”) plays into Carrie’s pondering for her column: “When things come too easy, we’re suspect. Do they have to get complicated before we believe they’re for real? We’re raised to believe that course of true love never runs smoothly. There always have to be obstacles in Act Two before you can live happily ever after in Act Three. But what happens when the obstacles aren’t there? Does that mean there’s something missing? Do we need drama to make a relationship work?”

    If that’s genuinely the caveat, then Joanne and Noah are destined to be together (and predictably do end up that way for the season finale). Their density of “obstacles” are further compounded by Noah essentially acting ashamed to be with her in the fifth episode, “My Friend Joanne.” Needless to say, this smacks of the “Secret Sex” episode of SATC in season one. The allusion to it, whether “intentional” or not, is already made in the first episode of Nobody Wants This, when Morgan mentions a guy named Greg who wouldn’t be seen with Joanne in public. But this thread picks up again when Noah takes her to a Jewish youth camp in Ojai and suddenly acts the opposite of a loving boyfriend when he realizes his boss is going to be there and, thus, introduces Joanne to a colleague as a “friend.” It takes some of the teen girls at the camp to spell it out for her: he introduced her as his friend. Hence, they’re definitely not together as solidly as she thinks.

    To be sure, as Noah tells his brother, Sasha (Timothy Simons), “I’m not ready to face the whole ‘I’m dating a shiksa’ thing” in public. In fact, he’s convinced he won’t have to because Rabbi Cohen (Stephen Tobolowsky) won’t be there…or so he thought. But when the big boss shows up, Noah fully fathoms just how much is at stake for him, career-wise, in dating someone as non-Jewish (read: totally white bread) as Joanne. Who also happens to be coming across as Carrie-level clingy in this episode, whining to Noah when he tells her they have to cancel their Carmel trip because of his unexpected work commitment, “What am I supposed to do? Just stay at home alone?” Yes, bitch, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. In addition, apparently, to being unavoidably disgusted when a man is too “nice.”

    Or, in Noah’s instance, too “sniveling.” Specifically, to Joanne’s parents, who he meets in the sixth episode, titled “The Ick.” And, what do you know, it’s an episode that speaks exactly to what Sex and the City already did in season six with “The Ick Factor.” Centered on Carrie’s “steady” of the moment, Aleksandr Petrovsky (Mikhail Baryshnikov), being way too over the top—therefore, “icky”—with his romantic gestures, Carrie struggles vis-à-vis how to deal with someone so cringingly saccharine.

    Much the same as Carrie, Joanne can’t “digest” a man who brings flowers “for respect” and says obsequious things that end up involving him doing a bad Italian accent (specifically, so he can utter the word “Prego”—as in the nasty sauce brand—when Morgan says she found an old Prego jar to put the flowers in). Morgan, attuned to her sister in ways that no one else is, clocks the look on Joanne’s face when taking in all of the icky things going on with Noah in this scenario. When Morgan calls her out about having the ick, Joanne tries to deny it—to which Morgan warns, “You can’t fight the ick, it’s like a Chinese finger trap: the harder you pull, the stronger it gets.”

    But naturally, as it happened for Carrie and Aleksandr, Joanne is able to surmount her icky feelings thanks to being candid with the object of her ick about it so that said object can work to remedy being so “icky.” However, if Aleksandr’s eventual fate is something to go by, Noah isn’t totally out of the woods in terms of redeeming himself as Joanne’s “forever person” (besides, that wouldn’t make for “compelling television,” n’est-ce pas? Gotta leave viewers on their toes).

    The grand denouement of Nobody Wants This is the bat mitzvah of Noah’s niece, Miriam (Shiloh Bearman), who grudgingly goes along with the Noah’s mom/her grandma Bina’s (Tovah Feldshuh), desired theme: “Miriam Takes a Bite Out of the Big Apple.” A more than slightly traitorous choice in L.A., but perhaps Bina is aware that the Jewish population in NY is larger, with L.A. coming in second in the U.S. after it for having largest population of Jewish people.

    To the point of New York versus L.A., it must also be said that, as Sex and the City’s “fifth character” is New York, Los Angeles plays a key supporting character in Nobody Wants This (even if it additionally betrays L.A. by having what can be called a “Philip Roth book cover font” for its title card).

    What’s more, much of Sex and the City was rooted in a “Jewish undertone” (apart from just Carrie bandying “keywords” like “mazel tov” so annoyingly) precisely because it was set in New York (see also: Charlotte’s wedding episode in season six, “The Catch”). Indeed, that was pretty much the extent of the “ethnic diversity” that the show “allowed” for. With Nobody Wants This, there’s about that same amount of “diversity” despite the narrative taking place in a city as racially varied as L.A. And yet, the show appears to count on the glamoring distractions of familiar storylines from Sex and the City—whether it relates to overbearing mothers, awkward situations with vibrators, emotionally distant men or fundamental incompatibility. And maybe part of that reliance stems from Foster underestimating just how many viewers can still cite Sex and the City episodes like scripture.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Doreen Savage Gives Marty Mendelson A Run for His Dolls

    Doreen Savage Gives Marty Mendelson A Run for His Dolls

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    On July 9, 2000, a theoretically small role in the “No Ifs, Ands or Butts” episode of Sex and the City left an indelible imprint on anyone with a phobia of dolls (a.k.a. pediophobia…not to be confused with pedophobia [fear of children])—not mention an imprint on anyone who can’t unsee and unhear the part of the narrative where Samantha (Kim Cattrall) dates a Black guy. However, perhaps even worse than dolls in and of themselves is dating someone who happens to be obsessed with them. Naturally, it would be unlucky-in-love Stanford Blatch (Willie Garson) who would end up in such a bizarre scenario. And this after so generously playing Cupid to Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) and Aidan Shaw (John Corbett) by making her go to his furniture store after seeing him splashed across The New York Times Styles section.

    And what does Stanford get for his good deed? A so-called meet-cute with Marty Mendelson (Donald Berman) at the same furniture store where Aidan’s dog, Pete, does all the heavy lifting for Carrie in terms of “aligning” them (by humping her leg). While Carrie is crushing hard and things seem to be going well (until Aidan realizes she’s a trashball smoker), it’s immediately clear to Stanford that his would-be Prince Charming is some kind of freaky. And not in the good way. This discovery made after Marty suggests they move their makeout session into his bedroom, whereupon Stanford is met with the eyes of seemingly hundreds of dolls staring back at him judgmentally (and yes, this was long before anyone had an inkling of Prince Andrew’s teddy bear fetish).

    Marty unabashedly approaches the bed, throws up his arms and proudly announces, “These are my dolls.” He then gushes, “I’ve been collecting them for years.” Stanford does his best not to seem creeped out as he smiles, “I had no idea.” Because, obviously, if he did, he wouldn’t have come over. Worse still, Marty asks him to help clear the dolls off the bed. Which he really shouldn’t have…considering how particular he is about the way his dolls are touched, moved and arranged. This, let’s say, fastidiousness (or “fagtidiousness,” as an edgier SATC writer might have punned) is what leads Carrie to say in one of her voiceovers, “Stanford wondered if he was enough of a queen to make love to a queen who collected queens” (most of his dolls being from Madame Alexander).

    Turns out, he is. Or at least tries to be the next time he goes over to Marty’s apartment, determined to do away with the boner-killing ritual of having to individually remove each doll from the bed. To this burst of devil-may-care carnality, Marty at first screams, “No wait, the dolls!” But Stanford gets the better of him, and Marty lets his guard down long enough to allow for one of the dolls to fall off his bed thanks to Stanford’s churlish ways. Thus, the dolls put a stop to their union before it can even start because “to Marty Mendelson, a broken face was a deal breaker” (side note: the entire episode is centered on various deal breakers in relationships). For Charles-Haden Savage’s (Steve Martin) younger sister, Doreen (Melissa McCarthy), in the seventh episode of Only Murders in the Building’s fourth season, it’s not that much of one. Especially if it means she might get a little action from Charles’ friend and co-podcaster, Oliver Putnam (Martin Short).

    Along with Mabel (Selena Gomez), Oliver has found himself at Doreen’s house in Patchogue, Long Island because it’s the “safest” place Charles can come up with after they’re threatened yet again by whoever Sazz’s (Jane Lynch) killer is. From the moment they arrive at Doreen’s, it’s apparent to Oliver and Mabel that she’s more than slightly eccentric—though Charles bills her as being “spontaneous.” And if her bombastic appearance and comportment wasn’t an instant tipoff, then her vast collection of dolls is. Hence the episode title being “Valley of the Dolls” (indeed, SATC probably would have titled the Marty episode that were it not for the fact that they had already titled a season one episode “Valley of the Twenty-Something Guys”). Carrie is, of course, sure to make use of that reference in a voiceover instead, narrating, “Meanwhile, back in the Valley of the Dolls, Stanford decided there was something even more rare than a porcelain French face: his passion.”

    But it’s Doreen who will be the passionate one in the Only Murders permutation, with Oliver, the non-doll-collector (therefore theoretically in the Stanford role) unwittingly turning her on by making the Psych 101 assessment, “So I guess you replaced your children with dolls, huh?” For the rest of the episode, filled with its eclectic backdrop of life-size and baby dolls alike, Doreen will try to make something happen with Oliver, who is mercifully spared by the sudden appearance of Loretta (Meryl Streep), his long-distance love. And yet, that still doesn’t stop Doreen from expressing her over-the-top ardor with gusto, even using one of the life-size dolls’ set of braids to fashion pigtails on her short hair in the style of Loretta.

    All of which is to say that doll collectors—if Marty and Doreen are anything to go by—definitely seem to share a particular characteristic: sexual hang-ups, limitations and perversions that make actually having sex with one of them all but impossible. Not that Stanford or Oliver really wanted to in the first place…especially not after they saw all those dolls. Thus, it would appear that, in addition to the term pediophobia, there ought to also be one for a phobia of people who collect dolls in the extreme (no shade to those who do in moderation, one supposes). For it can make for a very harrowing attempt at a sexual encounter. Regardless of whether the collector in the scenario cares about any potential damage done to their dolls during the tryst or not.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • On Carrie Bradshaw Developing the Idea for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

    On Carrie Bradshaw Developing the Idea for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

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    Although it’s easy to shit on Sex and the City in the present, there are occasional moments in the show when one realizes how truly visionary it was for its time. You know, going to a tantric sex workshop and vaguely acknowledging white privilege while you’re getting a pedicure—things like that. But one thing Sex and the City rarely gets credit for is providing the kernel of the idea for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. This occurred in season four of the series; specifically, episode six: “Time and Punishment” (the same episode where Charlotte York [Kristin Davis] was shamed for having “free time” instead of working). Which aired three years before Eternal Sunshine… was released in 2004.

    But back in July of 2001, when “Time and Punishment” first aired, Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) had the sudden “revelation” that cheating on Aidan Shaw (John Corbett) back in mid-season three was the worst mistake of her life—or at least her romantic life (which, in truth, embodies one hundred percent of Carrie’s existence). Therefore, narcissist that she is, Carrie obviously believes it’s within her power to get him back…just because she decides on a whim that’s what she wants. And apparently, she’s not wrong in her assumption, wearing Aidan down with her seduction methods (however stalker-y) until he concedes that, sure, he wants to get back together.

    But before that glorious (for Carrie) moment, Bradshaw gives us one of her signature voiceover “insights” from the column de la semaine she’s writing, ruminating on a person’s inability to forgive if they can’t really forget. So it is that she tell us: “Later that day, I got to thinking about relationships and partial lobotomies. Two seemingly different ideas that might be perfect together, like chocolate and peanut butter. Think how much easier it would all be if there was some swift surgical procedure to whisk away all the ugly memories and mistakes and leave only the fun trips and special holidays.” Yes, Carrie is perfectly describing what Charlie Kaufman would call “Lacuna Inc.” in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Minus the part where even the fun trips and special holidays are remembered. For, in Carrie’s ideal version of relationship memory erasure, you still at least remember the person existed in your life prior to the “procedure.”

    Kaufman and Michel Gondry did that concept one better by making it key for all traces of the person to be forgotten. Even though it only set up someone like Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) and Joel Barish (Jim Carrey) for the trap of gravitating right back toward the person they ended up finding toxic in the first place. Which is also something that Zoë Kravitz’s Blink Twice addresses in a more ominous way. But what Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind prefers to do is position the inevitable “re-attraction” between two people who were already unable to make it work before as something with a more hopeful tinge. Not just more hopeful than what Blink Twice does with the concept, but also with what ends up happening to Carrie and Aidan by the end of season four (hint: total emotional catastrophe/an even more painful breakup than the first time around).

    However, before the reasons for their first breakup are proven yet again (and tenfold), to conclude her thoughts on the matter of “forgiving and forgetting,” Carrie adds, “But until that day arrives, what to do? Rely on the same old needlepoint philosophy of ‘forgive and forget’? And even if a couple can manage the forgiveness, has any[one] ever really conquered the forgetness? Can you ever really forgive, if you can’t forget?” In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, there’s no need to forgive because all has been forgotten.

    As for setting up the premise for “Time and Punishment,” the episode that precedes it, “Baby, Talk Is Cheap,” also refers to the “unforgettability” (therefore, unforgivability) of what Carrie did to Aidan. An egregious sin he feels obliged to remind her of when she has the gall to come to his door late at night and plead her case for getting back together. None of her “logic” trumps the fact that, as Aidan screams, “You broke my heart!” But Carrie sees that only as a “minor detail” when presenting him with the “argument,” “Look, I know that you’re probably scared and I would be too, but it’s different now. Things are different. I-I’m different.” She then tries to prove it by taking a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and declaring, “Cigarettes, gone.” Of course, if they were really “gone,” they wouldn’t have been in her purse in the first place.

    Nonetheless, Carrie continues to insist that this “new” her was clearly not responsible for the actions of the old her and, thus, shouldn’t be punished by being denied another chance. She assures Aidan, “Seriously, all bad habits gone. This is a whole new thing because I miss you. And I’ve missed you.” As though her desire for him alone should be enough for him to want to forget about all the pain she caused him. And when Aidan screams the aforementioned line at her audacity, Carrie displays the kind of immaturity and embarrassing behavior she’s known for by simply running away instead of staying to face the firing squad, as it were.

    Ultimately, though, she gets what she wants: for Aidan to submit to her. Granted, not without an initial bout of passive aggressive behavior in “Time and Punishment” that finally prompts Carrie to say of the co-worker he’s been openly flirting with, “Why don’t you just fuck her, then we can both be bad.” When he comes to her door at the end of the episode, Carrie tells him, “I know that you can’t forget what happened, but I hope that you can forgive me.” But she was onto something before in her column—the idea that no true forgiveness can be attained without forgetting. Ergo, her wish for a Lacuna Inc.-like enterprise that wouldn’t “exist” until three years later…perhaps after Kaufman caught sight of Carrie’s column. And while Carrie might not have been the first to wish for this form of a “relationship lobotomy,” she was the only one to say it out loud in such a crystallized way before Eternal Sunshine… came along to perfect the notion.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • The Boons and Banes of Memory Erasure in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Blink Twice

    The Boons and Banes of Memory Erasure in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Blink Twice

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    Romy Schneider once said, “Memories are the best things in life, I think.” But are they, really, if some of them serve only as a brutal, triggering source of trauma? In both Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Blink Twice, that’s the main type of memory being dealt with, therefore suppressed. But while one is a “rom-com” (Charlie Kaufman-style), the other is a horrifying thriller with a #MeToo slant. Both, however, do center on “the necessity” of memory erasure as it pertains to the relationship between men and women.

    Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, of course, is much “lighter” by comparison. Even though, in its time and its place, it was considered just as “bleak” as it was “quirky.” It’s also more hyper-focused on one relationship in particular, in contrast to Blink Twice speaking to the overall power dynamics between men and women as it relates to sex rather than “romance.” More to the point, the power dynamics between rich men and “regular” women. In Michel Gondry and Charlie Kaufman’s narrative, the main “sufferers” (or beneficiaries, depending on one’s own personal views) of select memory loss are Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) and Joel Barish (Jim Carrey). But it is the former who “brings it on both of them,” as she’s the one to initially enlist the memory-erasing services of Lacuna Inc., run by Dr. Howard Mierzwiak (Tom Wilkinson). Joel merely follows suit after comprehending what she’s done, deciding that she shouldn’t be the only person in the relationship permitted the luxury of forgetting about all that they shared together. Good and bad.

    So it is that he, too, undergoes the procedure, briefed on the ins and out of it by Mary Svevo (Kirsten Dunst), the receptionist at Lacuna, and Dr. Mierzwiak before opting to excise Clementine from his brain as well (in a scene later to be repurposed by Ariana Grande for the “we can’t be friends [wait for your love]” video). Of course, this isn’t to say he’s not extremely hurt by her “whimsical” decision to “remove” him. Alas, by way of explanation, Dr. Mierzwiak can only offer, “She wanted to move on. We provide that possibility.” One can imagine that Slater King (Channing Tatum) tells himself something similar about his own nefarious operation on a private island that might as well be referred to as Little Saint James (a.k.a. the former “Epstein Island”).

    Sex and the City, incidentally, provided something of a precursor to the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind “idea kernel” (de facto, the Blink Twice one) in the form of the season four episode, “Time and Punishment.” This due to Carrie’s (Sarah Jessica Parker) theme for her column of the week being whether or not you can ever really forgive someone if you can’t forget what they did (to you). The answer, in both Eternal Sunshine… and Blink Twice, seems to be a resounding no. Though, in the former, there appears to be a greater chance for redemption even after the couple remembers everything that happened between them (and still decides to give it another shot). This courtesy of Mary, who not only unveils the truth to all of Lacuna’s clients (or “patients”), but also unearths her own bitter truth vis-à-vis memory erasure: Howard did it to her (per her request) after the two had an affair. And yet, just as it is for Frida (Naomi Ackie) in Blink Twice, it’s as though we are doomed to repeat the same behavior/gravitate toward the same toxic person regardless of whether the slate (a.k.a. the mind) is wiped clean or not.

    In Blink Twice, Zoë Kravitz’s directorial debut (which she co-wrote with E.T. Feigenbaum), that gravitation proves to be much more harmful for Frida, who drags her best friend, Jess (Alia Shawkat), along for the ride after infiltrating Slater’s fancy benefit dinner for his requisite “foundation.” Although the two are initially working the party as cater waiters, Frida has them both switch into gowns (which scream “trying too hard” while still looking embarrassingly cheap). Naturally, Slater invites them to accompany him and his entourage back to the island where he’s been sequestered in order to “work on himself” as part of a grand performance of a public apology for “bad behavior” past (there’s no need to get specific about what that might have entailed, for there’s a whole range of bad behavior [typically, sexual abuse/harassment-related] that female viewers can easily imagine for themselves). Though, usually, if one is truly working on themselves, they do so by not buying a private island to retreat to. By actually trying to exist in and adapt to the world around them, rather than creating an entirely new one that fits their own “needs.” But that’s the thing: Slater and his ilk don’t want to adapt, don’t want to acknowledge that things have changed and so, too, must their old ways. Instead, they’ve set up a “paradise” for themselves that happens to be every woman’s hell.

    The only requirement to keep them there? Scrubbing any memories they have of being sexually assaulted every night on the island. In lieu of Lacuna, Slater needs only a perfume called Desideria, conveniently crafted from a flower that’s only found on that particular island. It’s, in many ways, a slightly more implausible method for making someone forget a traumatic experience than all-out memory erasure through a “scientific procedure” like Lacuna’s. But, for Kravitz’s purposes, it works. Those purposes extend not only to holding up a mirror to the ongoing and new-fangled ways that men, even post-#MeToo, still manage to behave like barbarians, but also to the ways in which women “self-protect” by conveniently “removing” memories that are too painful to deal with, especially when it comes to men and their egregious comportment. This, in part, is why the Desideria is so effective. There’s a sense that the women of the island are only too ready to forget/ignore what horrors befell them the previous night.

    In the abovementioned Sex and the City episode, there’s a scene at the end where Carrie repeats (seven times) to Aidan (John Corbett), “You have to forgive me” in different “Oscar-worthy” manners. Just as Slater repeats, “I’m sorry” in different dramatic ways until he then askes Frida if she forgives him yet. Seeing (and expecting) that she definitely doesn’t, it only serves to prove his point that, no, you cannot forgive without forgetting (though, to be fair/in this case, maybe just don’t act like women owe you unfettered access to their bodies/treat them like disposable objects designed solely for your amusement and there won’t be any need to forgive).

    Thus, he considers himself in the right (or at least that he “had no choice”) for doing what he did in order to get what he wanted out of her and the other women he lures to the island with his charm (and, of course, the allure of his wealth). In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, there is also a belief, on Clementine’s part, in being “in the right” for willingly expunging her own memories without any man needing to do it for her. In this sense, one might say that Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is all about the importance of agency in having certain aspects of your memories erased for the sake of self-preservation.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Candace Bushnell Still Wants You to Be Your Own Mr. Big

    Candace Bushnell Still Wants You to Be Your Own Mr. Big

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    Candace Bushnell is still showing women a different way to think about themselves. Courtesy Candace Bushnell

    More than once, Observer has called Candace Bushnell the ‘real Carrie Bradshaw,’ but by now everyone should know that her Sex and the City alter ego is only a small part of the ‘real Candace Bushnell.’ The fiercely feminist Bushnell is, in no particular order, an international best-selling author, celebrated novelist and successful producer. Her critically acclaimed one-woman stage memoir, “True Tales of Sex, Success and Sex and the City” opens at the Café Carlyle tomorrow (April 23) for a limited run after stints at the Daryl Roth Theater and in theaters around the world.

    Bushnell’s “Sex and the City” column, of course, originated in 1994 at this very publication (then the storied New York Observer broadsheet) before quickly morphing into a book, an HBO hit starring Sarah Jessica Parker, the first of two motion pictures and, eventually, an unstoppable cultural phenomenon.

    Candace Bushnell Performs At Richmond Hill Centre For The Performing ArtsCandace Bushnell Performs At Richmond Hill Centre For The Performing Arts
    Bushnell in her one-woman show, “True Tales of Sex, Success and Sex and the City.” Photo by Jeremychanphotography/Getty Images

    On a warm day in April, I met Bushnell off Madison Avenue for tea at the Carlyle’s Gallery. So much talent and so many stars have moved through its art deco halls, it seemed like the perfect spot to chat with the glamorous and witty OG Carrie Bradshaw. Bushnell, true to fashion form, was sporting a black blouse with elegant shoulder ruffles, black leather pants with silver zippers, yellow heels and a hot pink handbag. Not only was it thrilling to interview one of my feminist heroes, but as a former sex columnist for the Observer myself, I’d always felt I had big stilettos to fill. (Yes, she still wears Manolos.) And just like that…after actually meeting Bushnell, those shoes felt even bigger.

    How did you end up with your iconic column in the New York Observer?

    When I first came to New York at 19, I wrote a children’s book. I wrote for anybody and everybody I could write for. This is all part of my show, “True Tales of Sex, Success and Sex and the City.” Then I wrote for women’s magazines, which was the precursor to “Sex and the City.” I was already writing about my Samantha, my Miranda, probably back in the eighties, but I always wanted to write a column. I had a column in Mademoiselle for probably a month or two months, and then the editor left or got fired or something, which was always happening. I started writing for the New York Observer and doing profiles for them, and the profiles were really, really popular. Everybody was talking about them. Then the editor-in-chief asked if I wanted to have my own column, which just put a frame around work that I’d already developed. I’d already developed my voice, and I’d already been writing professionally for 15 years when I got the “Sex and the City” column.

    What was it like working with Peter Kaplan, the legendary editor-in-chief of the New York Observer?

    It was a very male-oriented, Ivy-League-mentality kind of place. There was a lot of hazing and people were tough—they threw phones. Kaplan didn’t do that, but other people did. Publishing was a slightly violent business. But Peter was brilliant, and he would just say these things that you just realize, “Wow, that’s really it.” In those days, being an editor was a creative job. He felt like it was his job to somehow get the story out of the writer. It was a different mentality.

    A woman wearing a tight black dress made of feathers smiles for the cameraA woman wearing a tight black dress made of feathers smiles for the camera
    It wasn’t long before Bushnell’s New York Observer column became a book. Fadil Berisha

    How quickly did your column “Sex and the City” take off? You became a star.

    It happened right away. Again, I talk about that in the show. I think after I’d written five columns, I sold it to Morgan Entrekin [publisher of Grove Atlantic] as a book. Then the column was really like a serial book, which was obviously what I’d been wanting to write my whole life—a book. People faxed [the columns] to their friends in LA, so from the beginning I had Hollywood calling. ABC wanted it, HBO wanted it, Fine Line, New Line, some other probably movie company that doesn’t exist, and I flew out to LA. It was exciting.

    What was it like navigating that?

    I didn’t know anything about that business at all. It took me a while to sell it to Darren Star. They say publishing is or used to be a little bit of a gentleman’s business. There’s not that much money to be made. But in TV and entertainment, there’s a lot of money. When there’s a lot of money to be made, people are not, in general, equitable. Nobody gives you a good deal out of the kindness of their heart. The goal is to give as bad a deal as you can get away with, and that’s business. If you’re in it, you understand it, you know how to negotiate it, and you have power. Otherwise, if you’re an outsider, you don’t have that kind of insider access.

    And it was sexist.

    Back in 1995, women did not have the same kind of power that they have now in Hollywood. It was very different, and there’s a bit of an attitude of—I mean, the whole world was like that, right?

    I read that you consulted on the HBO series “Sex and the City” up until Mr. Big got married, and then you felt you no longer related to Carrie. Why is that?

    I tell that story in the show, too. At the end of the second season, Carrie and Mr. Big have a bumpy relationship. They break up, they get back together again, and then Mr. Big dumps Carrie and marries somebody else. Somebody he thinks is marriage material—meaning more conventional and less trouble, which is exactly the same thing that happened in my real life. I thought that that was maybe the end of the series, and it fit with my thesis that guys like Big come and go, but your girlfriends are always there for you. But then it’s not over, and they want to make another season, so they have Carrie have an affair with her now-married ex-boyfriend, Mr. Big. And as I say, that’s when a part of me “un” became Carrie Bradshaw because to me it wasn’t feminist. I’m sort of the opposite of that.

    Let’s talk about “True Tales of Sex, Success and Sex and the City.” How did the show come about?

    I met David Foster and his manager, Mark Johnson, and then we had a meeting. Mark said, “Why don’t you try to do a one-woman show?” I was like, “Why not? What do I have to lose?” I wrote it at the beginning of  2020, and then I started working with [director and choreographer] Lorin Latarro. He found there were Broadway people who were interested, they raised money, and we ended up workshopping it at Bucks County Playhouse. And then we brought it Off-Broadway to the Daryl Roth Theatre, which seems crazy to me. Like what?! Then it closed because of Covid.

    Have you always had an interest in acting?

    I had some interest in it, but it was kind of brief, and it was a long time ago. When I first started doing [the show], it was more like doing a dressage test than writing a book or an article. It’s performative. It’s choreographed, you say this here and say that there, but then there’s another aspect of being creative within that medium, which is an interesting thing to explore and figure out. There are timing aspects, certain ways that you say certain lines, and it’s very physical. It’s not just me standing up with a microphone. There’s a set. There are little props. There are little tiny skits. I fall off the couch, and it’s fun to do. I actually love doing it.

    Sex and the City just came out on Netflix. How do you think it resonates with today’s 20-something audience?

    I can only speak from my experience, which is that I have so many young women come up to me as they have been doing for the last twenty-five years saying that Sex and the City saved them, inspired them and changed them, but mostly gave them a different way to look at their lives. And I’ve had women from all over the world say this to me. For a lot of young women, it’s like a rite of passage to watch it when they go to college. These 20-somethings are watching it on Netflix, but there was a whole generation before them of 20-somethings that watched the DVDs with their new friends in college.

    A woman in a voluminous white shirt and tight black pants smiles powerfully for the cameraA woman in a voluminous white shirt and tight black pants smiles powerfully for the camera
    Fans tell Bushnell SATC saved them, inspired them and changed them, but mostly gave them a different way to look at their lives. Courtesy Candace Bushnell

    I feel like Sex and the City made talking and writing about sex less taboo and more mainstream. 

    I didn’t write about very much sex at all. There were some things in there like threesomes, but it wasn’t graphic in any way. I always felt like I was writing about power structures between men and women and heterosexual relationships. I thought I was really being much more of a social anthropologist.

    On a panel, you said that Sex and the City is feminist because it’s like, “Hey, you know what society? We are single women in our thirties and guess what, we’re getting on with it, we’ve got our friends, we made a different kind of family… there isn’t something wrong with us because we don’t want to follow the narrow prescriptive life of what society tells women they can and should do.”   

    The women were pretty courageous [back then], I have to say. I knew a lot of single women, and there was a real camaraderie. We had to look out for each other. It was a man’s world, but also New York City was a place where—and here’s why I wrote Lipstick Jungle which I always thought was the next step after Sex and the City—ambitious women make it. There are a lot of really successful women here, and that to me is the most interesting thing. That was what was edgy. Now that there are more successful women, there’s a freedom and you’re allowed to be ambitious. Whereas before you couldn’t. It was like Martha Stewart and Anna Wintour and Tina Brown, but people wrote horrible things about them all the time. If you were a woman and you were successful, you were also going to be punished.

    Why do you and SO MANY people today still love talking about Sex and the City?

    I don’t talk about it, but a lot of other people want to talk about it, and that’s great. I talk about my new work, the show that I’m doing, feminism, being your own Mr. Big and all the things that drive me as a writer, performer and a creative person in the world to do what I set out to do from the beginning, which was to try to show women a different way to think about themselves and their lives outside of the patriarchy. That’s been my mission since I was a kid. It still is.

    I think that we’ve all been sold the fairytale of the knight in shining armor, and that’s problematic.

    It’s problematic because being with a man can be physically dangerous for women. There are some really unpleasant truths about heterosexual relationships that we don’t acknowledge. And I think going for the guy who’s going to take care of you or the rich guy—this guy who’s going to be in love with you—can happen if you have the right circumstances, but if you don’t have a lot of the right circumstances, it’s maybe not going to happen. And so instead of spending your time investing in something that ultimately you can’t control because you can’t control how somebody feels about you or what they’re going to do for you, but you can control, hopefully, who you are in the world and, hopefully, the ability to make money and look after yourself. There’s a lot of pride in that.

    But then there’s also the pay gap. The system is rigged against women.

    If you look numerically at the 1%, only 3.5% of the 1% are women who made their own money. And to be in the 1%, you need to have a net worth of $11 million. Think about how many billions [that is]—think about all of the men who have more than $11 billion. Okay, so 96.5% of the women in the 1% are married to a rich man or inherited the money. That is wrong to me.

    A woman in a black leather biker jacket and blue bead necklace turns for the camera, swinging her blonde hair aroundA woman in a black leather biker jacket and blue bead necklace turns for the camera, swinging her blonde hair around
    The writer and producer considers herself a social anthropologist. Harold Mindel, courtesy Candace Bushnell

    You’ve chronicled NYC’s rich and powerful. I get the sense that you have a bit of a love-hate relationship with the rich. I certainly do. 

    New York is filled with rich people. There’s huge income disparity. I feel like it’s a problem. And it’s certain business practices that have been allowed in the last thirty years. I mean, there have been legal changes to how you can do business, and I think as a journalist you’re supposed to turn a little bit of a questioning eye towards the rich. You’re not really supposed to be one of them.

    Like Truman Capote.

    Truman Capote, Dominick Dunne, Tom Wolfe’s Bonfire of the Vanities. These are classic topics for journalists. Of course, now we live in a different time. That was a time when people kind of revered the written word. There was a real status to that. Now there’s a real status to being an influencer. Our value system has changed. We live in an attention economy where it’s really all about getting attention. I mean, Carrie Bradshaw today would be Emily in Paris.

    It’s not easy being an artist in the City.

    It really isn’t. I mean, that’s sort of the tricky thing about New York. It needs to be a place where if you have a lot of creativity and artistic ability, you can still live here and you don’t need a zillion dollars. When I moved here in the late seventies, it felt really expensive, but somehow you believed you could inch up the ladder and kind of get there. Now it feels like a lot of these places are way out of reach. It’s a big difference if something is $2 million and something is $20 million. So many people came to New York in the late seventies and early eighties—like Cynthia Rowley. She was like, “I just made clothes out of my tiny studio apartment downtown.” She sewed clothes, and then a store said they wanted them. When I first moved here, you had to be creative and interesting, but you didn’t feel like, “Oh, I need to live in the best place” because everybody lived in a crappy place.

    Finally, tell me about performing at the iconic Café Carlyle.

    So many legendary people have done shows here; it’s incredible. Also, it’s just a very, very New York thing to do. I’ve been on stage and also in the audience, and it’s a super intimate experience—one that you really can’t get anywhere else. It’s just a really special room, and it has the original wallpaper. It has a really, really small stage, and people are right here. You feel like you’re in somebody’s living room. That’s kind of what New York is all about, isn’t it? These one-of-a-kind, one-time experiences.

    Candace Bushnell Still Wants You to Be Your Own Mr. Big

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    Jasmine Lobe

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  • Olivia Rodrigo’s “Obsessed” Is Essentially the Plot of Sex and the City’s “Three’s A Crowd”

    Olivia Rodrigo’s “Obsessed” Is Essentially the Plot of Sex and the City’s “Three’s A Crowd”

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    Taking a gamble on assuming that anyone could ever forget Mariah Carey has a signature song called “Obsessed,” Olivia Rodrigo has opted to release a single of the same name from the Guts (Spilled) edition of her sophomore album. Although she’s already been performing it on her Guts World Tour, the official release of the track has also been heralded by an accompanying music video directed by Mitch Ryan (known mainly for his Rosalía videos). Though, clearly, Rodrigo is still stuck in her Petra Collins phase here, complete with the prom queen aesthetic that Courtney Love already ripped Rodrigo a new asshole for when she used it during her Sour Prom era. Indeed, “Obsessed” feels like Rodrigo can’t quite leave her high school days behind, swapping out a prom for an “exes ball” (or “gala”) instead so as to be able to still wield her prom queen look. 

    While that might not include any tiaras this time, it does involve gowns and sashes—and trophies…oh my! Thus, the event is seemingly equal parts beauty pageant and cotillion. A parade of all his exes branded with different labels on their sashes, including Miss Focus on My Career, Miss Put Him in Therapy, Miss Summer Camp 8 Years Ago, Miss Thought She Was the One, Miss Long Distance, Miss Freshman Year and Miss 2 Summers Ago, among others. (Olivia herself is, naturally, Miss Right Now.) Obviously, the guy Olivia is with is both much older (a seemingly new fetish of Rodrigo’s after her Joshua Bassett debacle) and a total himbo. However, despite the video’s plot in terms of featuring many, many exes for Rodrigo to obsess over, it still channels the season one episode of Sex and the City called “Three’s A Crowd.”

    As the title suggests, it’s all about when one, as the current girlfriend, feels like the odd person out in her relationship thanks to the looming, spectral presence of the ex. In Carrie Bradshaw’s (Sarah Jessica Parker) case, that looming presence is Barbara (Noelle Beck), Mr. Big’s (Chris Noth) ex-wife. As episode eight (featured, funnily enough, right after the episode titled “The Monogamists”), it was to serve as a turning point for whether or not the Carrie and Big relationship would endure or crumble under the pressure of Carrie’s expectations for such an emotionally unavailable man (to be sure, that does sound a lot like Rodrigo). So emotionally unavailable, in fact, that he only thought to tell her he was previously married when she happens to ask if he’s ever done a threesome. To which he replies, 1) “Sure, who hasn’t?” and 2) that the person he did it with was his wife.

    Needless to say, this sends Carrie into a tailspin as she assumes that they were probably always having “wild sex” together while, now, he and Carrie are only having “sweet sex” ever since settling into comfortableness with each other. This presumption about Barbara being more adventurous in the boudoir plays right into the bridge of “Obsessed” that goes, “Is she friends with your friends?/Is she good in bed?/Do you think about her?/No, I’m fine, it doesn’t matter, tell me/Is she easy-going?/Never controlling?/Well-traveled? Well-read?/Oh God, she makes me so upset.” 

    As Barbara does Carrie. Even more so after the latter actually meets her, arranging a sitdown with “Barb” after finding out that she works in publishing. This kind of obsessing, indeed, puts Rodrigo’s to shame. For, in the modern era, all a Miss Right Now has to do is stalk an ex-girlfriend’s social media from the safety of her own bedroom rather than actually meet up with her in real life under false pretenses. That level of obsession is far more suited to the verse, “If I told you how much I think about her/You’d think I was in love/And if you knew how much I looked at her pictures/You would think we’re best friends.” Carrie, however, is much too narcissistic to lay claim to the following declarations in “Obsessed”: “‘Cause I know her star sign, I know her blood type/I’ve seen every movie she’s been in, and, oh god, she’s beautiful/And I know you loved her, and I know I’m butthurt/But I can’t help it, no, I can’t help it.” 

    And what Carrie can’t help is being irritated by Barbara’s good looks and ostensible good taste when she immediately tells Carrie, “I’m a huge fan of your work.” This speaks automatically to Rodrigo’s vexed tone when she sings, “She’s talented, she’s good with kids/She even speaks kindly about me.” Having come face to face with “the enemy,” Carrie tries to remove the encounter from her thoughts, giving the voiceover, “That night, I thought I could put the whole Barbara thing out of my mind. After all, Mr. Big was with me now.” That he is, as Carrie lies in bed with him trying to get into some hanky panky before she imagines Barbara “supervising” the whole thing and berating, “Nibbling his earlobes? How sweet. Let me show you how it’s really done.”

    This makes Carrie feel hopeless and “lesser than” anew as she instantly recoils from Big and turns to face the other way, musing inwardly, “So I guess you couldn’t avoid a threesome. Because even if you’re the only person in the bed, someone has always been there before you.” Such an assessment is in line with Rodrigo’s chorus, “I’m so obsessed with your ex/I know she’s been asleep on my side of your bed, and I can feel it/I’m starin’ at her like I wanna get hurt/And I remember every detail you have ever told me, so be careful, baby.”

    Big, not so clueless as to ignore her strange mood, prods, “Hey, what just happened? Where’d you go?” She shrugs, “I was preoccupied.” “No kidding. About what?” Carrie’s internal voice then replies, “Your ex-wife’s breasts, your ex-wife’s lips, your ex-wife’s long legs.” Damn, talk about obsessed. In such a way that also applies to Rodrigo’s self-referential lament, “​​She’s got those lips, she’s got those hips/The life of every fuckin’ party.” These two lines giving a nod to both “all-american bitch” (sarcastically announcing, “I’m a perfect all-american bitch/With perfect all-american lips/And perfect all-american hips”) and “ballad of a homeschooled girl” (“the party’s done and I’m no fun”—hence, she herself is no life of the party). Rodrigo adds to that, “And I know you love me, and I know it’s crazy/But every time you call my name, I think you mistake me for her.” This being an inverse allusion to her role in “deja vu.” Like Carrie, Olivia knows that, technically, “You both have moved on, you don’t even talk/But I can’t help it, I got issues, I can’t help it, baby.”

    When Carrie manages to get a few more details out of Big, he quickly closes the “ex file” (a term Carrie will later use on Jack Berger [Ron Livingston] in the season six episode, “The Perfect Present”) by saying, “Let’s not talk about the past, please.” Carrie then allows herself to be held by him, but still imagines Barbara in bed right next to her as she narrates, “What Mr. Big didn’t realize was the past was sleeping right next to me.” Rodrigo clearly has some of those same sentiments. 

    Co-written with St. Vincent a.k.a. Anne “Annie” Clark and Dan Nigro, one has to wonder if either of the three parties watched “Three’s A Crowd” at any point during the song’s creation. For it so perfectly sums up Carrie’s dilemma in this episode. And now, Rodrigo’s in “Obsessed.” However, the takeaway that Rodrigo doesn’t seem to glean is the one Carrie comes up with by the end: “I realized the real appeal of the threesome: it was easy. It’s intimacy that’s the bitch.” Of course, this reinforces the monogamous heteronormative belief that a person can only have “true intimacy” with one other person. A philosophy that Rodrigo, in her bid to graft 90s and 00s-era pop culture for everything she does, is only too ready to perpetuate.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • When Carrie Bradshaw Shamed Women With “Free Time,” Or: In Defense of Charlotte York’s “Retro” Decision to Not Work 

    When Carrie Bradshaw Shamed Women With “Free Time,” Or: In Defense of Charlotte York’s “Retro” Decision to Not Work 

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    Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), who has hardly ever been what one might call a “women’s advocate” (see: defending sexually predatory behavior), once famously shamed Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) for willingly becoming one of those women. You know, the ones who have the kind of free time for self-enrichment that allows them to take pottery classes in the middle of the day. Well, not a class, per se, so much as a jaunt into Color Me Mine, a real place that probably reached its pinnacle around the same time the episode in question, “Time and Punishment,” first aired in 2001. Because this was also the height of the Petroglyph era in California. Commercializing and mass-marketing pottery and ceramics classes perhaps in an avant-garde bid to teach something like mindfulness in an evermore mercilessly capitalistic world…long before the pandemic forced (some) people to slow down and reflect. The irony being, of course, that you still have to pay to be “mindful.”

    In fact, that’s precisely what Charlotte wants to do with her newfound freedom when she quits the gallery in season four: glaze a motherfuckin’ pot at Color Me Mine. But, to Carrie, that’s deemed somehow frivolous, purposeless and, for some reason, not “artistic” enough. It seems, however, that part of the reason Carrie exhibits such judgment about it (granted, as she does about many things) is because it probably hits too close to home. This idea that if you’re not working a “real job” that comes complete with an office space or “stationing” within some kind of edifice beyond your own abode, then you’re not actually working (which means, technically, going to Color Me Mine should count as a job). For Carrie, deep down, must have felt some level of “pinch me” guilt for being able to translate her sexual exploits/party girl ways into something like a regular paycheck (though, as it has been pointed out many times, certainly not the kind of regular paycheck that could afford Carrie her haute couture-drenched manner of living). 

    Because yes, many a “single gal” before and after her has tried to do the same (and do it better), only to be met with no such financially tantalizing offers for detailing their “rock n’ roll lifestyle.” Thus, perhaps mocking Charlotte for wanting to become a woman who glazes and lazes is a reflection of the underlying belief that “being a layabout” posing as an artist is, in actuality, what Carrie is doing too. That is, in her role as a “writer” a.k.a. sex columnist. Because even the most “legitimate” (whatever that really means) of writers struggle frequently with severe bouts of impostor syndrome. Especially ones who are entirely dependent on the lives of others for their “inspiration” (read: material). Which Carrie very much is, what with her vanilla predilections in the boudoir. Shit, even Charlotte comes across as more adventurous in the long run, almost becoming a rug muncher before Samantha in season two’s “The Cheating Curve” and kissing the hot gardener as a married woman in season three’s “What Goes Around Comes Around.” Carrie would never (mainly because she’s more classist than she lets on). And, obviously, Samantha is the primary source of fodder for Carrie’s column drawing so many eyes (or rather, so many eyes for a local rag). 

    Yet even Samantha, for all her “progressiveness,” gives Charlotte flak for her announcement, assuming, “Did you get a better offer from another gallery?” and, later in the conversation, “Well, be damn sure before you get off the Ferris wheel because the women waiting to get on are twenty-two, perky and ruthless.” As for Carrie, her thinly-veiled harsh words come in the form of, “Sweetie, if I was walking by [Color Me Mine] and I saw you in there, I’d just keep on walking.” The implication being that, unlike Charlotte, she sees no “nobility” or “value” in art for art’s sake. Or doing anything, really, that doesn’t have some specific “purpose” (even fucking has a purpose for Carrie: her column). This being such a New York outlook on life that it practically makes one want to vomit over how many people living in that city share such a view. In contrast, Charlotte previously tells her friends of spotting a so-called deadbeat/kept/unemployed woman, “Sometimes I’ll walk by one of those Color Me Mine pottery places and I’ll see a woman having just a lovely afternoon glazing a bowl.” 

    When Charlotte is met with nothing but crickets and blank stares, she feels the need to further justify “not working” (this phrase always designed to diminish the things one does and actually enjoys doing for no money). To do so, she also assures them, “And I wanted to volunteer at Trey’s hospital. And help raise money for the new pediatric AIDS wing.” Upon hearing that, Carrie “indulges” her friend’s “whim” by encouraging, “The cooking and the AIDS stuff is great…” only to gut-punch Charlotte with the aforementioned insult about “just keeping on walking” if she saw Charlotte glazing a bowl at midday. 

    Of course, that’s just called jealousy. For all working people are fundamentally derisive and judgmental toward those who “don’t work” (a.k.a. are just doing things that make them happy without placing a monetary value on it). Wishing they, too, could live such an unburdened, unbrainwashed life. But even Charlotte can’t deprogram from the idea that she has to be “useful” in some alternate fashion, like child-birthing. Continuing a new generation of Worker Soldiers who will also believe in the religion of Capitalism. Whether they’re forced to (by circumstance of birth) or not (also by circumstance of birth).

    Oddly, though, Charlotte chooses to take out Carrie’s judgment on Miranda by calling her the next morning and saying, “You were so judgmental at the coffee shop yesterday. You think I’m one of those women.” Genuinely confused, Miranda asks, “One of what women?” Charlotte snaps back, “One of those women we hate, who just works until she gets married.” The guilt over being “indulgent” enough to quit her job and take a risk on pursuing something less “directed” than working as an art curator/dealer has clearly gotten to her. And it’s not because she herself is questioning the “choice she chooses,” but because the lack of support from her friends, to her, signifies the lack of societal support for any woman who would dare to quit working. This, in effect, shows how far capitalism—not feminism—has come in indoctrinating people of all genders to believe that their primary value is in the amount of money they can bring home. So while Sex and the City disguises this as a mark of how the tables have turned on homemakers being the “freaks” instead of the working girls, it’s actually more telling of how women have been as subsumed by capitalism as men. Entirely taken with its seductive tenets, the top of the list being “independence.” By becoming a slave to whoever employs and underpays you. 

    At the end of “Time and Punishment,” Charlotte remains slightly ambivalent about her decision, snapping at the girl she’s hired to take over for her by barbing, “You’re twenty-two, what do you know about life?” Realizing her temper got away from her, she apologizes and explains, “I’ve been working my whole life, this is a big transition.” The twenty-two-year-old replacing her finally justifies her action by remarking, “If it’s any consolation, my mother worked all the time. It would have been nice to have her home.” Nonetheless, when Charlotte first told her replacement she was quitting to focus on motherhood, the girl looked at her with just as much horrified incredulity as Carrie (who, again, was way more judgmental than Miranda, despite the episode quickly centering the yin and yang “rivalry” between single women who work and married women who don’t on Miranda and Charlotte). So it is that Charlotte adds, yet again, her claim of being very focused on pediatric AIDS research. Because a social cause is better than no cause at all…if you have to confess to “not working.” A phrase that, to reiterate, not only belittles artists, but also domestic labor that is billed as somehow “lesser than” the non-“pink collar” jobs of this money-grubbing world. 

    And yet, what Charlotte ultimately proves by walking out of the job anyway, despite all the glares lobbied against her, is that nothing “tastes” as good as “not working” feels. Plus, it makes capitalists so very uncomfortable, something they ought to experience far more often than they’re made to. The dichotomy being that Charlotte has the luxury of being the most anti-capitalist of her friend group perhaps precisely because she’s benefited the most from capitalism via her inherited wealth.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • “Single Soon” Is In Direct Contrast to “Used to Be Young”

    “Single Soon” Is In Direct Contrast to “Used to Be Young”

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    With Miley Cyrus releasing her “admitting to aging” anthem, “Used to Be Young,” at a time when admitting to aging as a woman somehow seems less acceptable than ever, Selena Gomez has opted to veer in an entirely different direction with her own ditty (released the same day as Miley’s on August 25th): the far more upbeat “Single Soon.” In contrast, to the lament of “Used to Be Young,” which focuses on letting go of “frivolous things” and overall folly, “Single Soon” seems to be Gomez’s bid to ignore the idea of any sense of aging whatsoever. For, at almost exactly the same age as Cyrus, Gomez is ready to hit the bars drinking and the clubs dancing. Something that belies Cyrus telling British Vogue back in May, “[This songwriter had brought me] like, you know, the standard fucked up in the club track. And I was like, ‘I’m two years sober. That’s not where I spend my time, you know. You’re more likely to catch me and my friends literally walking through rose gardens or going to a museum…’ It’s not about being self-serious. I’m just evolved.”

    Not to say that Gomez can’t be “evolved” either just because she’s still setting her videos in clubs and portraying puerile scenes of jumping in pools, running through alleyways and having “girlie” sleepovers. She just happens to be “evolving” in a slightly more “resistant-to-aging” way. Hence, lyrics like, “I know I’m a little high/Maintenance, but I’m worth a try/Might not give a reason why (oh well)/We both had a lot of fun/Time to find another one/Blame it all on feelin’ young.” The operative word being feelin’. And it seems appropriate that, as though to reflect the inability to “act one’s age” that most women in the public eye suffer from, Kim Kardashian would also post a video of herself jump roping on the eve of the “Single Soon” release with the caption, “I don’t know how to act my age; I’ve never been this old before…” Famous women, of course, have an especially challenging time dealing with this “issue.” Which should really be a non-issue if we actually lived in a non-judgmental, non-patriarchal society. Alas, we do not…and that’s why we’re met with this schizophrenic reaction among women vis-à-vis aging. The split persona that results in a pop star like Britney still playing the Lolita coquette or someone like MARINA saying “fuck it” and letting her hair go gray (for a while, anyway). The divergent reactions women can have merely to entering their thirties is telling of the weighty societal pressures placed upon them from an early age to “stay young” forever. Even though that ends up getting them condemned, too (see: Madonna).

    While Cyrus seems to be running an offensive on being called “old” by branding herself with the euphemistic label “used to be young,” Gomez is on the defensive by embracing the idea that being single in one’s thirties is nothing to be ashamed of. Ergo, drawing on an homage to the premier single girl show, Sex and the City, for her music video. Except, rather than mirroring Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), Gomez chose to lip sync some of Samantha’s (Kim Cattrall) dialogue (in a teaser for the single) from the season one episode, “Three’s A Crowd.” Even though she might have done the “Who is this?” line one better by quoting Samantha saying, “If you’re single, the world is your smorgasbord.” That’s what comes across, for the most part, in the video for “Single Soon,” although we never once see Gomez with any “variety of men” to prove that smorgasbord point. Rather, she plays up the kind of sologamist angle that shines through in Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next,” ultimately a clip show collection of tributes to Grande’s favorite “00s teen girl” movies, including Mean Girls, Bring It On, 13 Going on 30 and Legally Blonde, that involve no sign of her enjoying her singledom in ways that involve men. 

    As for Cyrus, the absence of anything whatsoever in her video apart from herself also speaks to the current landscape of self-obsession posing as “self-love.” Indeed “the self” appears to be the primary fixation of the twenty-first century (which certainly makes it easier to be single). A reality solidified as social media mutated into what it is today. Not only a powerful platform for narcissism, but also hatred and bullying. Something Gomez was reminded of when devoted Selenators came for Hailey Bieber earlier this year after Gomez posted a TikTok of herself saying she had accidentally over-laminated her eyebrows. Hours later, Kylie Jenner, “bestie” to Hailey, posted a photo of herself with a heavy filter that featured a caption placed directly over her eyebrows that read, “This was an accident?????”

    Immediately presumed to be shade at Gomez’s looks (because, unlike Stefano Gabbana, not everyone can just come right out and call Gomez “brutta”), Bieber was triangulated for being “@’d” in the story by Jenner with a picture of Bieber’s unkempt brows screenshotted from a FaceTime call. If it was, in fact, as calculated as everyone insisted, not only is it tragic how underhanded things have to be “nowadays” (as opposed to a good old-fashioned, on-blast feud like the one between Joan and Bette), but it also serves to both affirm and undercut Gomez’s message about being single. 

    Sure, on the one hand, you don’t become a petty, possessive little bitch like Bieber, but on the other, those petty, possessive bitches like Bieber view you as a threat because of your single status. As was the case for Carrie Bradshaw in “Bay of Married Pigs,” during which she’s exiled from her married friend Patience’s (Jennifer Guthrie) Hamptons house because her husband, Peter (David Healy), strategically chooses to walk around without any underwear on in the hallway so that Carrie will be able to see his “pepper mill-(sized) dick.” When Patience finds out, she sends Carrie packing, prompting the latter to continue her thesis for that week’s column: “Married people don’t hate singles. They just want us figured out.” And so long as they stay single, they never will be. Thus, the enduring divide.

    As for Miley, she seems on the Charlotte (Kristin Davis) track at the moment with all this talk of putting aside “silly (/slutty) youthful behavior” and perhaps focusing on a more stable life. Whatever that might actually mean for a Sagittarius. As for Gomez, a Cancer cusping Leo, it would seem her own security-craving sign betrays any genuine desire to be single. So maybe, in the end, they both mean the opposite of what they’re saying out loud…

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Selena Gomez’s “Single Girl Anthem” Naturally Pays Homage to Sex and the City

    Selena Gomez’s “Single Girl Anthem” Naturally Pays Homage to Sex and the City

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    Considering Selena Gomez teased her latest single with a video of her lip syncing the dialogue of Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) from a season one episode of Sex and the City called “Three’s A Crowd,” it’s only natural that she should continue the homage to the perennial “single girl” show in her music video for “Single Soon.” And that arrives almost instantaneously by way of her “S” necklace and the leaving of a Post-It that directly quotes Jack Berger’s (Ron Livingston) infamous breakup note to Carrie: “I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.”

    Turning the notion of being the abandoned woman on its ear by becoming the abandoner, this note is placed on the table as Gomez chirpily sings, “Maybe I’ll just disappear/I don’t wanna see a tear.” Because who wants to deal with such icky emotions? Not Gomez. And, though we never see her walk out the door of the place where she left the Post-It, in a seemingly different apartment (though probably not one inside the Arconia because that would be too meta) “across town” (as Carrie B., would say in a voiceover), Gomez is “pickin’ out this dress” and “tryin’ on these shoes” ‘cause she’ll be “single soon.” Already is, in fact…whether her erstwhile boyfriend knows it yet or not. And yes, this image of her in her apartment trying on outfits and shoes echoes the level of peak vacuity (call it “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” syndrome) that Carrie also possesses despite being a writer. Indeed, it speaks to a false perception to assume that just because one writes, it means they’re immune to the anti-intellectual trappings of materialism. An especial trap for women, who are conditioned to believe they need “all the things” in order to attract men (and, more often than not, they do). For that’s what being a (straight) woman is all about, right? No matter how many advertising campaigns try to repurpose that indoctrination to attempt reflecting the presently more “kosher” belief that a woman wanting to look good is “just for herself.” Yeah right. 

    Self-love being a key part of Gomez’s brand, particularly as it pertains to mental health, she proceeds to “sit-dance” on the floor, looking endlessly comfortable with both her breakup decision and being alone. Relishing “me time,” as it were. Which gives a girl the chance to engage in what Carrie would deem all the “SSB” (secret single behavior) she wants, without fear of judgment from the gross boy she was once forced to share a space with. As Carrie phrases it in “The Good Fight,” “I miss walking into my apartment with no one there and it’s all quiet and I can do that stuff you do when you’re totally alone. Things you would never want your boyfriend to see you do.” Apparently, that’s what Gomez missed about being single too, as she stares at herself in the mirror and applies lipstick, tries on more “looQues” (including a very “Lavender Haze”-inspired jacket) and then heads out to meet her friends at a restaurant. 

    At first, the meeting feels like a nod to that season four episode, “The Agony and the ‘Ex’-tacy,” where Carrie is cajoled into having a thirty-fifth birthday party at Il Cantinori, despite not wanting to celebrate at all. Although Gomez is initially forced to wait at a giant empty table like the “ultimate” single girl she’s paying tribute to, she doesn’t appear as bummed as Carrie was while glancing around the restaurant to clock other couples/generally happy people as the lyrics, “I’ma date who I wanna/Stay out late if I wanna/I’ma do what I wanna do” play in the background. Plus, it’s easy to be blithe when considering that Gomez isn’t stood up (unlike Carrie) by the three friends who arrive soon after (because, obviously, a quartet of friends is necessary to really drive the SATC point home) to join her for drinks.

    Cheersing to the freedom of singledom, director Philip Andelman then cuts to Gomez and co. in the back of a pimped-out ride (in an image that briefly reminds one of Madonna being in the back of a limo with her own friend group in “Music”). It’s here that Gomez shrugs, “I know I’m a little high/Maintenance, but I’m worth a try/Might not give a reason why (oh well)/We both had a lot of fun/Time to find another one/Blame it all on feelin’ young.” It’s with that last line that Gomez not only negates how she recently said she was “too old” for social media (a sentiment that doesn’t quite jibe with “feelin’ young”), but also what Miley Cyrus ruminates on in “Used to Be Young.” Currently thirty to Gomez’s thirty-one, Cyrus clearly feels more wizened at this point in time to have come out with a track (on the same day, no less) so divergent in theme from Gomez’s, who encourages the notion of being single more than ever despite the fact that women are still told that being in their thirties is the “danger zone” era. Not just for “finding someone,” but for the proverbial biological clock. 

    It’s a clock Gomez, like Lana Del Rey, seems more content to ignore as she goes out to karaoke in the next scene (something Tove Lo also made the central focus of one of her most recent videos, “I Like U”). From there, it’s more scenes in the back of the car, interspersed between sweaty dancing in the club moments and running through alleyways like bats out of hell. At a certain moment, Gomez announces, “I know he’ll be a mess/When I break the news,” but it would be no shock if the guy she dumped cared as little as she did about the end of the “relationship.” Or, in this modern age, situationship. Something Carrie never had to deal with during her so-called more proper epoch of dating. 

    What’s more, Gomez overtly relishes her single girl status far more than Carrie ever did. This being part of why she probably chose Samantha to emulate in her teaser for the song (though some conspiracy theorists will say it was to shade Hailey and Justin Bieber because the dialogue is pulled from the scene of a married man telling Samantha he’s going to leave his wife for her). And as she jumps into an empty pool in the dead of night with her friends, then ends up having them over for a “sleepover” afterward, it’s clear she wants to emphasize Charlotte York’s (Kristin Davis) aphorism, “Maybe we could be each other’s soulmates. And then we could just let men be these great, nice guys to have fun with.”

    With this in mind, “Single Soon” is a logical evolution from “Lose You To Love Me,” and perhaps even more empowered than that because it treats the notion of “love” with far more sociopathy. What Carrie would call “having sex like a man.” Gomez wants to take advantage of that concept and so much more with her single (soon) status. And, although the tone and visuals of the track are decidedly more suited to the Girls narrative that was meant to mirror (emphasis on meant to) Gomez’s millennial generation far more closely than Sex and the City ever did, it’s a testament to the iconography and influence of the latter. No matter how retroactively problematic it keeps becoming as the years go on.

    That doesn’t stop enduring fangirls like Britney Spears from still loving it. And, speaking of Spears, one doesn’t imagine this song playing so well with her own fresh status as a “singleton.” One who has tried her best to shrug off another short-lived marriage with talk of buying a horse. Because that’s the freedom of being single, innit? And yet, if Gomez (incidentally, a guest at the wedding for Spears’ ultimately failed nuptials) were to release this song at Spears’ age, one doesn’t imagine it would come across as “jubilantly.” Reading instead more like the sight of Lexi Featherston trolling for fun at a party filled with “fuckin’ geriatrics.” Herself not admitting that she, too, is now considered one. For, no matter how much time goes by, society has yet to embrace women who are past a “certain age” staying single, yet acting like they’re still in the sowing oats days of their twenties. Even “single girl patron saint” Carrie Bradshaw, with her heinously priggish attitude, was the first to tell Samantha, “It’s time for ladies my age to start covering it up. We can’t get away with the same stuff we used to.” It remains to be seen if Gomez will tend to agree…should she be single ten years from now.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Why Aidan’s Visceral Reaction to Not Wanting to Go Into Carrie’s Apartment Ever Again Is Emblematic of New York-Specific PTSD

    Why Aidan’s Visceral Reaction to Not Wanting to Go Into Carrie’s Apartment Ever Again Is Emblematic of New York-Specific PTSD

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    With the latest episode of And Just Like That…, the one everyone is raving about/saying it’s marked a shift for the better in the series, director Ry Russo-Young opens on a scene of Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) in bed wearing a shirt that says, “The Most New York You Can Get.” It’s a fitting way to kick off “February 14th,” as the most New York you can actually get is being incapable of walking down certain streets or going into certain places. Not because it’s too expensive, but because, in another iteration of your life, you were emotionally wounded there. Irrevocably.

    They say you can be traumatized anywhere, but, in truth, there’s no more affecting place for experiencing trauma than one, New York City. The “greatest” city in the world isn’t so great when every street corner, every establishment and, yes, every apartment is a potential landmine for unwanted memories bubbling to the surface and causing the long-buried pain to feel oh so fresh. The usual staunch defenders of the city might say that there’s nowhere else on Earth that can give you such “profound” experiences (most of which include, at some point, vomiting on the subway). That nowhere else will “give you the chance” to feel so much…until you ultimately feel nothing at all. Numbness as a defense mechanism. Repackaged as New Yorkers being “experts at minding their own business.” When, the fact is, they’ve been trained to turn off any reaction whatsoever in the name of self-protection. And perhaps being smug about what Carrie once phrased as: “The fact is [New Yorkers have] pretty much done and seen it all. It takes quite a bit to shock us.”

    The same goes for Sex and the City-turned-And Just Like That… viewers, who have seen it all when it comes to Carrie’s relationship pattern. Which goes: Big, Aidan, Big, Aidan, Big…and now Aidan again. What with his character being the last man standing after “John” died (and, to an extent, Chris Noth…when his career died). The stale story maneuver to pivot in this direction yet again presumes that Aidan doesn’t have the self-respect to cut Carrie loose for good—the way Carrie didn’t in order to do the same to Big.

    Such lack of self-respect is something that’s actually not that far-fetched when considering how long people choose to stay in New York after “making a life” there—the ultimate euphemism for, “Well, I found a job and enough people to get drunk with so why rock the boat and leave?” Except that Aidan actually did, only to be pulled back in by the woman who once asked the question that proves why New Yorkers are the most annoying breed on the planet: “I’m always surprised when anyone leaves New York. I mean where do they go?” Probably to a place with fewer triggers. 

    And yet, Carrie is only too down to be the triggerer when she invokes the spirit that is Aidan by reaching out to him via email. Which is ironic for the person who once insisted (in yet another episode when her romance with him was about to be rekindled), “I don’t believe in email. I’m an old-fashioned gal. I prefer calling and hanging up.” In 2023, Carrie is slightly less puerile, but not by much…she still abruptly closes her computer like a scared little girl when she sees that there’s a new message from him in her inbox. This, of course, harkening back to the “Baby, Talk Is Cheap” episode where she does cave in to signing up for an email address (already late to the game in 2001) and AIM account (again, 2001). Her one “Buddy” on that messaging apparatus being “AidanNYC” (this lack of originality certainly suits Carrie’s writing style). And when his screen name appears online, she has a pre-OK Boomer moment when she freaks out and asks, “Oh my God, he’s online! Can he see me?” Miranda, not bothering to explain to her the finer points of how the internet works, assures her that, no, he cannot see her. At least not literally. 

    Galvanized, she gets up and heads over to his apartment, having initially told Miranda in an unsent email, “Aidan says he’s not interested, but he seems interested.” This being Rapist Logic 101. Which is further emphasized by her phone conversation with Miranda during which she says, “His words said no, but his kiss said yes” and “I know he still feels it.” Apparently, they both still do decades later. Even if Carrie should be off-put by how Aidan is dressed like Elvis trying to make Army attire fashionable. 

    After making their rendezvous for “February 14th,” as though pretending each has no idea what that means, another callback to previous episodes of SATC occurs when Carrie starts to think she’s being stood up. Maybe Aidan is just a scorpion who lured her into his stinging trap of retribution for all the emotional torment she caused him (which is really what he should have done). Channeling “The Agony and the ‘Ex’-tasy” episode where she waits interminably at Il Cantinori for people to show up to the birthday dinner she didn’t want to have, Carrie starts to feel exposed when she sees Aidan is already ten minutes late (this also echoing the season two episode where Samantha gets stood up at a restaurant by a guy who “we’d” his way all the way home). But no, turns out there was a mixup (Il Cantinori/El Cantinoro-style) and he’s simply at the restaurant next door. To be sure, the symbolism of these two still not being in the same place bears noting. Even if there’s the emphasis that they’re now both “on the same page.” 

    Though they never were before, least of all in season four, when Carrie, again, practically begged him to ignore his better judgment and be with her. “You broke my heart!” he finally screams after she makes the selfish case for them getting back together in “Baby, Talk Is Cheap.” Perhaps aware of the power she holds over him when, minutes later, he gives in and runs to her apartment (after she childishly runs away from his because he rightly berated her) to bone, Carrie can make the connection that she is the Big in his life. The one great love he can’t say no to…no matter how poorly she treats him. And there’s something to be said for the parallel to how NYC residents also view New York. No matter how toxic, unhealthy or straight-up miserable it is, its status as a “great love” means it can do no wrong, regardless of the repeated joy it seems to get from burning those who “love” it so much. If by “love” what is meant is delighting in masochism and calling it “making a sacrifice for something wonderful.” 

    After their sexual reunion in “Baby, Talk Is Cheap,” Aidan asks Carrie, “You wanna do this to make up for the past? Relieve your conscience?” She insists that no, the reason she wants to get back together is, “I still love you.” He pretends he needs to think about it, but the next morning, he’s outside her window, calling out, “Okay let’s give it a shot.” “You wanna come up?” she replies. Even then, he avoided it, insisting he has to take Pete for a walk. Perhaps knowing, in some way, that Carrie’s “single girl” apartment was going to be his bane. And that’s what it still ultimately is. For Carrie will always see herself that way: someone who can just flit about like the twenty-something NY “it girl” she can’t shake from her self-perception. 

    Maybe that’s why she doesn’t pre-fathom how jarring it will be for Aidan to see the apartment again, taking him there after dinner. Not realizing where they are until he gets out of the cab, his face falls as he remarks, “When you said go back to your place, I just thought you had a different place… At the restaurant, I just thought, ‘How great. This feels really great. We’re back where we started.’ But this is where we ended. With the fuckin’ wall I couldn’t break through and those floors, remember, that I redid? It’s all bad. And it’s just, it’s all in there.”

    Carrie soothes, “Okay yes, it’s the same place, but we’re not in the same place.” Constantly assuring him that she’s different (therefore, “it’s” different) and better every time they’re about to start things up anew, Aidan can’t quite grasp the veracity of that declaration when she’s continued to live in the same apartment. So unaffected by all the shit that went down there. He finally says, “I can’t go in there again with all that.” Aidan’s trauma response is the culmination of the number New York (and those who flock there) can do to a person. So much that said person can’t even seem to grasp the way they feed on the psychological deterioration it causes after a while. Which is why Aidan then whips around and announces, “Hey, fuck it. This is New York. They have hotels, right?” Aidan’s sudden desire to bang in hotels in lieu of ever going back into that trauma epicenter called Carrie’s apartment also provides an interesting full-circle moment in that Carrie had her affair with Big in hotels throughout Manhattan during season three (side note: another callback to the original series is when Carrie uses the cheesy “Great Sexpectations” pun that served as the title of SATC’s second episode of season six). 

    Alas, like those who move back to New York after leaving it, Aidan ignores all the reasons he left (both the city and the relationship) so that he can learn the hard way, yet again, that Carrie, the so-called embodiment of the city (see: “The Most New York You Can Get”), will only cause more pain. For what could possibly go wrong if he refuses to set foot in the apartment she would never abandon? This made peak evident in season four’s “Ring A Ding Ding,” when Carrie is faced with the very real possibility of losing her underpriced abode as she, funnily enough, is forced to buy it back from Aidan after their relationship ends, again. 

    Yet what Carrie is most upset about isn’t Aidan, but the apartment. Pacing the “living room,” she gives the voiceover, “As I thought about leaving the apartment I had lived in for the past decade, I realized how much I would miss it. Through everything, it had always been there for me.” So yes, Carrie 1) loves her apartment too much to ever leave and 2) has the type of Stockholm Syndrome that would never allow her to see that the apartment is the source of the trauma she refers to with “through everything.” There’s a reason Aidan is smart enough to believe that no amount of sage could get rid of the energy in that place, and that Carrie’s apartment is nothing but “bad juju.” Of course, so is New York itself, with all the places one is initially so fond of while they’re at an emotional crest falling prey to the invariable emotional dip once such places become tied to pain.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Carrie Bradshaw’s Apartment Is Full of the Candles Every Beauty Editor Hoards

    Carrie Bradshaw’s Apartment Is Full of the Candles Every Beauty Editor Hoards

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    Carrie Bradshaw’s iconic column may have been focused on dating, but based on her taste in candles, I’m pretty sure she could have been a beauty editor. While passively catching up on And Just Like That last week (as a longtime Sex and the City fan, I can’t help but stay in the loop), I spotted a familiar sight—and something I have in my own bathroom: a cleaned-out Diptyque candle vessel being used as a toothbrush holder. 

    After a quick scan of the rest of her apartment, it seems she has a few Diptyque candles lying around. The Parisian Maison has long been a favorite of beauty editors and fashion people—you’d have a tough time walking into the home of any beauty editor or fashion person and not finding at least one Diptyque candle either being burned or being used as a container post-burn like Bradshaw. 

    Diptyque candles all smell incredible—each scent feels like it was made specifically with chic living rooms in mind. They burn for 60+ hours and are made with high-quality wax that burns cleanly. Keep reading for a few of our favorite Diptiqye candles that will help you begin to channel Carrie Bradshaw’s decor vibe. 

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    Katie Berohn

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  • Lukas Matsson Has His Lexi Featherston Moment

    Lukas Matsson Has His Lexi Featherston Moment

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    There must be something about being inside a rich person’s apartment overlooking the New York skyline that makes a party guest have a rather overt epiphany: New York kinda sucks. More to the point, it’s not actually that special. Naturally, those loyalists who are obsessed with NYC and defending its “honor” no matter how much it devolves into a moated island for the uber-affluent or the uber-deranged (usually those two qualities go hand in hand) will say that the likes of Lukas Matsson (Alexander Skarsgård) and Lexi Featherston (Kristen Johnston) are merely “haters” because they’re not being treated like the “relevant” beings they see themselves as. Of course, Matsson is endlessly relevant (“fudged” GoJo numbers or not). As far as anyone (apart from the Roys) is concerned, he’s a rich white man doin’ big thangs—and should be treated as such.

    Nonetheless, Lukas is feeling generally bored and resentful from the outset of showing up to Shiv (Sarah Snook) and Tom’s (Matthew Macfadyen) triplex in Lower Manhattan, where they’re hosting an election kickoff “tailgate party” (hence, the name of the episode being just that). It’s Shiv, playing the double agent throughout the ongoing and much talked about “deal” (one in which GoJo will absorb Waystar Royco), who urges Lukas to show up. Because not only will it throw a wrench into Kendall (Jeremy Strong) and Roman’s (Kieran Culkin) plans to talk shit about him and GoJo, but it will also give Lukas a window of opportunity to shine bright like a diamond in front of the “most powerful people in America.” To Lukas’ surprise, it really is that easy to make an impact. More specifically, as he notes to Shiv in the coat room, “You know, I thought these people would be very complicated, but it’s…they’re not. It’s basically just, like, money and gossip” (ergo, Gossip Girl remaining the pinnacle of rich people life). And maybe that’s part of when the disenchantment with New York starts to sink in for Lukas. Sure, he’s been there many times and witnessed “the scene,” but never until this moment did it seem so clear to him how utterly lacking the innerworkings behind the veneer are. Like Dorothy and co. witnessing the Wizard of Oz being operated by nothing more than a little man behind a curtain, Lukas sees something far more disillusioning in these “movers and shakers.”

    Shiv confirms, “Oh yeah, no. That’s all it is.” Money and gossip. Synonyms for wheeling and dealing as a “key player” in New York. And being a key player, of course, automatically means you have to be rich. As the phrase that triggers so many people goes, “You have to pay to play.” No money, no skin in the game. And it is, as most are aware by now, a very rigged one. Matsson has been all too happy to be part of that ruse, particularly since he’s been putting one on himself in order to come across as “big enough” to buy out Waystar. Perhaps he was hoping that New York, for all its prestige and having a “solid reputation” as an epicenter of finance and “glamor,” would have more to it going on behind the scenes than merely more of the same.

    Kendall, committed as much to New York being the “end all, be all” as he is to his father’s company embodying that as well, insists that there is. And that Lukas is the inferior impostor who can’t hack it. In short, he’s no Anna Delvey when it comes to navigating New York as an impostor (as Kendall remarks to Shiv, “I fuckin’ knew he was a bullshitter. I’m tellin’ you…new money. You gotta hold those fresh bills to the light”). And yet, he actually does seem to know how to navigate. For he’s comfortable and confident enough in his own skin to “dare” to speak ill of the “greatest city in the world.” And amongst the “most powerful” people who run it, therefore all of America. Thus, we’re met with Lukas Matsson’s “Lexi Featherston moment” around forty-eight minutes into the episode. When he’s finally had enough of this blasé, bullshit party and wants to stir things up by asking, “So who’s, uh, who’s going out tonight in this shitty fucking town? Anyone? I gotta say, it’s pretty depressing from up here. You can really see how Second World it is.”

    For those who don’t remember Lexi’s own anti-New York monologue from season six of Sex and the City, it bubbled to the surface after being at her wit’s end with the banality of everyone and everything at the so-called party. Thus, Lexi snaps after being told she can’t smoke inside near the window, “Fuckin’ geriatrics… When did everybody stop smoking? When did everybody pair off? This used to be the most exciting city in the world and now it’s nothing but smoking near a fuckin’ open window. New York is over. O-V-E-R. Over. No one’s fun anymore! What ever happened to fun? God, I’m so bored I could die.” And then she does, tripping over her own stiletto heel and falling out the window. Previously, when Carrie encounters her in the bathroom doing coke and tells Lexi she only came in to get away from the party, Lexi replies knowingly, “Oh Euro-intellectuals. I don’t know why I pulled strings to get an invite to this piece of shit party.” Funnily enough, Lexi would probably view Lukas as one of the “Euro-intellectuals” she finds so dull merely because he happens to be from Europe. But at least his “right-hand man,” Oskar Gudjohnsen (Jóhannes Haukur Jóhannesson), is “moon-beamed on edibles” according to Lukas. Which makes things slightly more amusing for him (like having a court jester or something) as he “mingles” among the “glitterati” of the political and business worlds.

    Even so, just as Lexi did, Lukas finds himself utterly unimpressed by the goings-on at this “event.” Which, to him, feels like a sad attempt on these people’s part at pretending they’re living it up in some “fabulous” town with a lifestyle that couldn’t possibly be had anywhere else. Yet if it’s so fabulous, why does it bum him out so much as he stares out the window? Just as Lexi sort of did as she lit her cigarette and then turned her back to the city to give the “revelers” a harrowing recap on the state of affairs in NYC. A merciless “summing up” tailored to those who are still delusional about its “untouchable clout.”

    Kendall being one such person as he replies to Lukas calling it a shitty town with, “I don’t know, [it’s a] pretty happening town, famously.” “Really? Is it though?” “Yeah.” Lukas reminds Kendall of his quaint American perspective by saying, “Compared to Singapore, Seoul…it’s like Legoland.” Kendall insists, “You know we still run shit though?” Lukas ripostes, “Hmm, like as in…only in New York?” Kendall confirms, “Yeah.” Lukas titters, “Right. Okay. Well, uh, nothing happens in New York that doesn’t happen everywhere.” A fairly obvious statement, but one that actually needs to be said to those living in the self-deceiving bubble of “nothing else being like New York.”

    Starting to get offended as every NYC diehard does when a nerve is touched about “their” city, Kendall demeans in return to that comment, “You should get that written on a cup. Right? Shouldn’t he get that written on a cup? Like that would look so cool. You could sell that in a head shop in Rotterdam. Could be a good business for you.” Unfortunately, there’s still not much business in trying to “pull back the curtain” on New York blowing chunks, as it were. And even those who are “aware” of it still claim there’s nowhere else they’d rather be (especially if their choice is limited to staying in the U.S.).

    Including Carrie Bradshaw, as she claims to her “partner,” Aleksandr Petrovsky (Mikhail Baryshnikov), “I have a life here.” This being in response to his desire for them to move to Paris together. He answers, “Yes, but what do you want to come home to? What do you want your life to be?” These questions inferring that her continuing in the same way as she always has for the sake of “being loyal” to New York will only lead her down a path of despair and loneliness (something And Just Like That… ultimately confirms). And it’s for this reason that Lexi’s timing to appear as a cautionary tale plummeting to her death prompts Carrie to take her own plunge—by leaving New York. Even if New York is her “boyfriend,” as she called it in the first episode of season five, “Anchors Away,” wherein she tells us in a voiceover that she “can’t have nobody talking shit about [her] boyfriend” (this after a sailor named Louis [Daniel Sunjata] does exactly that). Unfortunately for Carrie and those committed to New York like a mental institution, this is what both Lexi and Lukas “deign” to do in their honest assessment of a city that “never sleeps.” Which is perhaps part of why it has the propensity to always disappoint.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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