when people used to compare me to carrie bradshaw - and during college it happened quite a bit - i usually replied with something monosyllabic and noncommittal. add a forced smile and a bit of feigned laughter, and in the right light, it almost seemed like i was pleased by the comparison.
despite my attempts to appear cordial, the cynic inside me seethed at that tenuous connection between she and i. "what, because i like fashion and own a laptop? that's the best they can come up with?" i took comfort in the fact that those who know me well, like josie, my cousin and de facto sister, think i'm more of a morgendorfer than a bradshaw. surely the only people who would rely on such a weak personality parallel must reside on the outer perimeters of my social circle, i told myself.
and then one day, it suddenly occurred to me that i didn't know a damn thing about this fashion-mad work of fiction. all this time, i'd assumed that i was being compared to some frothy ditz, but i didn't have any evidence to support that claim. growing up, our cable subscription didn't include hbo, and i'd never bothered to get acquainted with the series even after it went into syndication. curiosity was calling. i decided to attack the situation like a scholar and unravel the carrie bradshaw persona once and for all.
i began my research with the first sex and the city movie, since it was conveniently just arriving in theaters at the time. i worried that i wouldn't be able to follow the plot, having never watched the show, but a couple of rabid fans assured me that i would enjoy myself nonetheless. emerging from the theater a couple of hours later, i wondered if perhaps i'd been rash. carrie was a tad frothy around the edges, sure, but i couldn't deny the woman's great style and she seemed generally likable - not a bad introduction.
it was time to watch the series.
[via tijger melk]