A Sex and the City reboot? And Just Like That sees the return of a coven of New York women, now even more obscenely wealthy and privileged than they were in the original. This is apparently what we need right now. Maybe it's meant to help that in And Just like That, Covid is mentioned with a sort of fond nostalgia, like that time Charlotte's vagina was depressed. "Remember when we legally had to stand six feet apart?" Lol.
Of course I'm watching, are you mad? Tough times call for mindless distraction and I'm getting bored with the clowns on Fox News. As SATC's inexplicably successful columnist, Carrie Bradshaw, once said, "When I first moved to New York and was totally broke sometimes I would buy a Vogue magazine instead of dinner."
15 years later Carrie looks like she has devoured a stack of Vogues in the interim. The original series, unforgettable, try as you might, for four single ladies having a gruelling discussion about anal sex in the back of a New York cab, did some genuine ground-breaking between Cosmopolitans. When Tony Soprano used the "c" word in primetime he was walking in the ridiculous shoes of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda. Fair dues.
There have been two awful movies. I'm still scarred by Sex and the City 2. The location was meant to be exotic - "Abu Dhabi Doo!" – and it generated appalling one-liners, including Samantha's infamous "Lawrence of my labia".
There was always the fashion. A global pandemic and climate change does not deter Charlotte from buying Oscar de la Renta gowns for her daughters when Lily has a piano recital. Nod to the times: 12-year-old Rose hates the dress, sparking a storyline where she comes out as non-binary and changes her name to Rock. The ensemble worn by Carrie for the funeral – sorry, spoiler alert – of the love of her life, Big, includes a crime against millinery that looked like my Nana's teapot mat stuck to the side of her head.