A Tribute to One Fabulous Single Girl:
A Farewell to Sex and the City
By: Rosie K., Age 17, Seycove Secondary, Vancouver, BC
Last week, I said goodbye to one of the greatest (secret) loves of
Last week, I watched a girl ponder over an exotic Russian and a familiar
Last week, Carrie Bradshaw did her last walk in her beloved Manolos.
The end of "Sex and the City."
I remember the time I watched my first-ever SATC episode. It was when Aidan,
the sweet-talking, always-caring and never-lying, otherwise known as the
too-good-to-be-perfect man, was in Carrie’s life. After being absorbed by her
friends, her shoes, her laments, her laptop and her life in general, the first
conscious thought that came to my mind was, I want that life when I’m 30.
What more could a girl possibly want? She had a tight posse of girlfriends who
were free almost all the time for an impromptu brunch/lunch/dinner/cocktail
date, too many pairs of shoes and fabulous clothes to keep count, a job that
seemed to provide her with all the leniency and creativity she needed (a weekly
sex column), and a flock of men that always seemed well-groomed, well-mannered,
Yet she kept on screwing up. Problems never seized to exist. Her life was
nowhere being perfect.
That was what made the show so enticing. All the imperfections of her life -
all the men she couldn’t and didn’t want to have, all the agony she faced for
stepping in and out of singledom, all the dilemma her friends were facing, and
all the times she just couldn’t make up her mind between the ever-so-seductive
(and stylish, never looking foolish with a cigar) Big and all the other guys
that entered her life.
And it all felt so damn real.
Sure, the girl was older, living a life of a career woman. She was definitely
much, much richer than I was (and am), somehow managing to own an apartment, go
out to eat almost all the time and shopping endlessly all on just a weekly
column. She had many men in her life, a number of them rich and significant. (I
can’t possibly say the same about myself, although I would love to) But despite
all the discrepancies, I could relate to her. When Big kept on stepping around
the fringes of commitment, which killed her inside but made him look attractive
at the same time, I knew exactly what she was going through. When Aidan was
treating Carrie with model behaviour like every perfect boyfriend should, and
yet she just couldn’t resist Big’s appeal and cheated on him, I understood her.
And when her friends and her common sense tried to stop her from going to Paris
with a man she adored, knowing it would go wrong, and still she stubbornly stuck
to the ideal romanticism she built up all the way to France, it made perfect
sense to me. Carrie Bradshaw was the representative of single girls everywhere:
too paranoid to tell if the liking was mutual, too indecisive for commitment,
and too nostalgic towards the wrong guy.
That’s why during the finale, when Big (the eternal playboy with that deathly
charm who’s never fully trustworthy, but is just so right) finally met up with
her in Paris and told her in that deserted street that she was ‘the one’, it was
just the way that was meant to be.
She will continue to have problems. There will always be that niche of
discontentment and discomfort, moving on to a new phase of maturity and
experiencing less availability from herself and her friends.
But she will no longer be single. Hence, the appropriate end of one eventful
era that will be missed by millions of viewers everywhere.
I will always cherish the four spunky single girls, the laptop that always
had only one line of a pivotal question, Carrie’s ever-evolving hairstyle and
(sometimes wacky) clothes, and of course, the mischievous Big (or John) that
delivered ‘abso-f-ing-lutely’ with a confident swagger in his voice. And if I
ever get too nostalgic, there are always the DVD sets to fall back on. Well
that, like Carrie would say, is just fabulous.
(Photo obtained from Sex and the City website:
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