And Just Like That…

Since I first heard about the impending release of a new chapter of Sex and The City, I can’t lie and pretend that I haven’t been over the moon excited. In spite of the fact that amongst all of the pre-release press coverage surrounding the show, terms such as “geriatric millennial” were being bandied around, making me feel very old, unfettered, I continued to wait patiently for the new series of my beloved show to return. Well this week it did, and after watching the first two episodes on Thursday night, it did not disappoint.

One of my oldest and dearest friends and I have always been quite ritualistic when it comes to things we deem to be important events and watching Sex and the City has never been an exception. We spent our late teens enjoying the show together upon its release whilst in our first year at University in Leeds. Seasons 2–6 kept us company in our second and third year (who remembers the excitement of the release of the DVD shoebox?) On reflection, how it meant anything to us at nineteen years old, having experienced basically none of the world of sex and relationships that was presented to us so perfectly I have no clue, but we were suitably hooked and this moderate to extreme obsession followed us back from Leeds, through our twenties and into our first flat together in London, where we lived with another friend and equally as devoted a fan, the three of us regularly rewatching the show together as we grew into our experiences and started to really get it. By the time I reached my thirties, rewatching it again felt ceremonial. Suddenly it truly made sense. It was entertaining, eye opening and empowering all at once which is why it will forever be one of my favourite shows, holding a special place in my heart. Yes of course there are problems with the show, most notably its patent lack of diversity and representation but flawed as it is, there is still too much good here to discount it all together.

Even now I will regularly receive a message, all it will say is “starting sex and the city from the beginning again” which I always know will also include film one and two. So you can imagine the excitement we were feeling at the arrival of And Just Like That, despite the crushingly disappointing rumours being true that Samantha would not be gracing our screens. A few weeks ago, in preparation, we actually dedicated a good twenty minutes of our afternoon together working out what time of day we would watch the brand new series so that it was just perfect. We couldn’t watch it when it was still light outside or it wouldn’t feel “primetime” enough for such a momentous occasion. So we agreed to watch it, with drinks, at 8pm on its release night. Well, unfortunately Covid had other plans, taking hold of me three days before our planned night, moving our viewing date to the virtual sphere.

Now before I get into it I want to say that I really hate myself for what I’m about to say — I feel truly disloyal to the show that has taught me so much but the first ten minutes of the first episode was just awful. There were no two ways about it, everything felt so obvious and overdone. It was as if the producers were working their way through a checklist of things they were trying to include in order to communicate to their loyal viewers what had taken place since the end of our last fix of the characters. So within minutes we knew: how old they are now, who is still with their partner, what each now does for work, who does and doesn’t dye their hair and the big one, a tidy and neatly packed explanation for the very weighty absence of everyone’s favourite character. A terrible disappointment. However, all was not lost as the sweet spot hit, about fifteen minutes in, just as we were given the first sighting of our favourite casanova — Mr Big. Carrie returns home to their gorgeous apartment and there he is, looking better than ever and offering that same old charm that we all know and love as he sips his red wine and potters in the kitchen like nothing has changed — it was very comforting. And from then on the show seemed to take on a renewed magic that was ever so recognisable from the series that has captivated its viewers for so many years and here I am again, obsessed. But of course, just as we felt that comfort, our security blanket was ripped away in the most heartbreaking of fashions, preparing us for the fact that this series is sure to take us on an intense emotional journey, and the nostalgia we all banked on it provoking, will be the least of our worries.

I was genuinely amazed at how well, with all of the publicity flying about prior to its release, that it was never revealed that *spoiler alert*Big dies. The naive and optimistic me was certain that the title just referred to the gorgeous ability for life to regain it’s wonderful charm and romance at any moment. Sadly not. So with that secret so well hidden, my inner optimist is hoping that Samantha might just return in ways other than hidden behind a bouquet of white lilies on a coffin. I mean why else would Carrie keep talking about her? I’m aware that Kim Cattrall has made it very publicly known in no uncertain terms that she and SJP are no longer friends but surely professionalism (and SATC addicts suffering withdrawals everywhere) could come first in this instance? Perhaps I’m clinging on to a false hope but I’m going to indulge myself with this one anyway.

Watching the new episodes took me right back to University, an inexperienced teenager, 15 years younger than the characters I was observing on screen. The second time around it was just as magnetic. And it certainly made me feel better about the ageing process. Our favourite girls are all doing pretty well and despite the obvious tragedy that will clearly underpin the rest of the series it made me realise that for anyone else who has tried to mirror the life of Carrie Bradshaw for the past 20 years, the trajectory is not so bad.