June 9, 2018 |
It’s June 8 1989. A hot summer night. The stars are out and the moon is full. There’s a sound echoing around the world. No, it’s not the wolves howling – it’s all the single women and gay men gasping, Yaaas-ing and snapping their fingers at the TV. The Sex and the City pilot is airing on HBO for the first time and no one is truly aware of the cultural impact a group of four women with questionable, yet fabulous fashion choices (thanks Pat Fields) and even more questionable love/ relationship/ sex choices will have on the world.
Okay, I don’t really know whether the night was hot or if the moon was full, but that’s how I imagine the majestic setting for the birth of Venus. Or at least my Venus – Carrie Bradshaw. I was around the age of 12 when I watched my first episode of Sex & The City. Laying in my tiny single bed, in my tiny bedroom in Zagreb, Croatia. It was a few minutes after midnight, and therefor also a few minutes past my bedtime. Flicking through the TV on mute (Croatian TV does subtitles instead of dubbing), I stumbled upon a group of four women discussing the taste of sperm over their breakfast. And that’s how I fell in love… OK, I was completely confused as to what was happening in front of me, but I understand one thing – I had found something that, at the time (Summer of 2005) showed a universe that was both figuratively and literally thousands of miles away from my little pre-adolescent life in Eastern Europe. It was a world I wanted to be part of – unapologetically discussing body fluids, dressing in outrageous fashions and eating something green on toast (it was avocado). And look at me now. I spend my weekends talking about sex, eating avocado on toast and buying 1960s floral lady bags. I don’t want to say it was all thanks to Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha – but it probably was.
Look, don’t get me wrong – Sex and the City did many things wrong. It focused solely on white women in a city that is a synonym for diversity. It dismissed bisexuality as “just a layover on the way to Gay Town” and praised the idea of pressuring friends into lending you money because you bought way too many shoes. Yet, 20 years after its premiere – this show is as popular as ever. Why? Well, in my opinion – Sex and the City epitomises everything you think in your head but would never dare in real life. Statements you would never say out loud (“Men cheat for the same reasons that dog licks their balls… Because they can”), wear unreasonably mismatched outfits (a waist belt over a bare belly?) and behave like you never cared about what anyone else thinks (release your home-made porno to the press). Just to be clear, I’m not suggesting you do any of these things. What you should take away is the level of irreverence these four women represent.
As most of you will know, this year has been a rough one for all of the S&TC fans due to the undeniably juicy and still ongoing Instagram spat between Sarah Jessica Parker and Kim Cattrall (I’m team Carrie all the way), so this is an important time to stick together and celebrate a world where everything is alright as long as you’ve got your friends with you. So, in honour of Sex & the City turning 20, go ahead and slide into your Manolos, pour yourself a full pint of Cosmopolitan and start caring less about the bullshit happening around you.
