Sex and the City and And Just Like That: Reflecting on Aging, Friendships, and Carrie's Wild New Chapters

I cannot help but wonder: after all these years, can I separate what I once loved about Sex And The City from what I now feel about it? It has been over two decades since I first watched the show. Back then, I was not watching for the deeper meanings. I was watching for the clothes, the drama, and the idea of being young and in New York. Now, returning to the series, I find myself looking at the women, what time has done to them, and what it has done to me.

When I first moved to the city in the early 2000s, it felt like Carrie’s New York. Rent-stabilized apartments, cigarettes on stoops, cash-only corner stores, late-night dancing in bars, and conversations about ambition. I was not old enough when I ordered my first cosmopolitan. I wore heels and something too short, and I felt a sense of arrival. That drink was more than just a drink. It was permission. I told myself I was not just living in New York. I was a New Yorker.

Like any woman who watched too much of that show, I hoped to meet my Mr. Big. I thought I might find him at a party in Brooklyn or in Central Park. I even thought he might be in bed the next morning. I met many men in those years. Sex was part of my journey. Two decades later, I decided to watch the show again. All six seasons. This time, I was in a farmhouse upstate with three kids and two cars. My husband lay next to me. He used to make fun of the show, but now he was chuckling at Samantha’s jokes. He even asked which one was Miranda.

I watched the show like I watch old black-and-white movies. Part of me wanted to go back in time. I also wanted to remember what it felt like when everything was still ahead of me. Then the last episode came. Carrie finally gets Mr. Big. Suddenly, everything is fine. But even after getting what I wanted from the story, I needed more.

The New Season Kicks Off With Carrie's Relationship Decisions and Beyond

How Carrie's Five Year Plan With Aidan Is Already Hitting Some Major Roadblocks

Naturally, I watched the movies right away. The first one was fine. It was predictable and shiny. They get married, big deal. The second movie was totally different. It was a weak copy of a story that once understood modern womanhood. Watching it, I felt like I had eaten too much Halloween candy past midnight: bloated, regretful, and a little embarrassed.

Then I turned to And Just Like That, the new version. I thought watching the first and second seasons again would help me appreciate the show more. I hoped to return to what the show once meant to me. But then Mr. Big died. It made sense for the story, I suppose. Carrie needed to be single. Otherwise, what would we watch her do?

If you are anything like me, you probably had moments since the last season of And Just Like That where you suddenly remembered Carrie and Aidan's five-year agreement. FIVE YEARS. That memory is enough to ruin your day. The season three premiere just dropped, and we learned this deal is even worse than we thought. Not only is Carrie waiting five years for Aidan so he can deal with his teenage son Wyatt, and not only are they not supposed to visit each other for that entire time, but they cannot even call or text each other! I am sorry but sending blank postcards is not a relationship. This feels like a hostage situation. Can Carrie Bradshaw, the woman who famously said "some women aren’t meant to be tamed," really be okay with this setup? I find it impossible.

At one point, Anthony calls Carrie Rapunzel, just waiting in her tower for the guy. Honestly, this whole thing already has a Miss Havisham feel to it. Instead of a wedding dress, Carrie will probably end up wearing even wilder hats. And this is just the beginning. While Carrie seems to refuse to admit how impossible this situation is—surely they could have talked about other options besides staying together but not talking for five years—the show quickly points out how silly it all is. Anthony, who learns about the new arrangement at a ballet preview, immediately asks all the follow-up questions any good friend should. Miranda and Charlotte are taking an "as long as you’re happy" approach which is nice but Carrie looks more resigned than happy.

Anthony’s questions about how this can be a relationship if she has no idea when Aidan will come back are pretty basic "concerned friend" questions. Yet Carrie completely ignores him and seems angry about it. Giuseppe, a truly good person who I hope this show does not ruin, tells Anthony to calm down a little. By the end of the episode Anthony is apologizing to Carrie for being too judging. I guess it is a small win for reality that Carrie at least says she knows others have opinions about her situation. Anthony is the only one to say anything out loud. Still, she wants to act like this whole thing is normal. It is not normal. Not at all.

Carrie can pretend with her friends all she wants but we see firsthand, through her own hand actually, that this will not work as it is. Aidan, who declared he and the girlfriend he loves should not speak for five years, is the first to break his own rule. He calls Carrie in the middle of the night. He is three beers deep and hiding from his children in his truck. There is no way three beers make country-boy Aidan drunk so I find this hilarious. Not only does he break his own rules but he almost immediately tells Carrie he aches for her and wants phone sex. As Carrie starts to touch herself like he would touch her an ill-timed car horn and a stare from her cat Shoe totally turn her off. While Aidan finishes Carrie fakes it. She then feels guilty about lying to him. "Our sex life is the most honest thing about us," she tells Miranda and Charlotte. But wait, it gets even worse.

Watching Ourselves Age Through the Eyes of Our Favorite New York Women

How The Physical Changes In Carrie And Her Friends Mirror Our Own Experiences

I realized I was not paying attention to the plot anymore. What I was really watching was their faces. Charlotte, once all fresh cheeks and pearls, now looked somewhat unfamiliar. Miranda’s fiery red hair had gone soft gray. Carrie’s skin looked softer. Then there was Samantha, completely gone from the show. This might be the most true-to-life part, since I myself, being middle-aged, have had my share of friendships ending. But it was not their changes that bothered me. It was what their aging showed me about myself. The truth was, they were older now, and so was I.

I am 46 years old. I am in perimenopause. I take estrogen. My hair is thinning. I take medicine for it every night. I am gaining weight. I use skin products all the time. I own two red-light therapy masks. I touch my face constantly in the mornings. I gently pull at the skin, wondering what a small facelift might cost. I skipped my annual filler appointment this year because I was afraid of looking fake. Now, as I look in the mirror, I wonder if that was a mistake.

Recently, my sister bought a ticket to Asia for an eye lift without me. "I couldn’t wait for you," she texted. I felt left out but also relieved. I was not ready. My niece told me at my daughter’s graduation that my other sister had some "light work" done. "They look great," she said happily. Everyone is doing something, I suppose. Everyone is trying not to disappear as they get older, even as we hide ourselves from our screens. There is no deep wisdom here, only the hard fact of time.

I see myself moving between two types of aging. On one side, there is Cameron Diaz, aging "gracefully." On the other, there is Demi Moore, who is doing everything possible and then some. Just last month, people praised Lindsay Lohan for looking "fresh." Last week, Kris Jenner appeared with a new face and looked 20 years younger. So I ask myself: Can I forgive Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda for getting older? Can I forgive myself? Or perhaps more importantly, can I separate what I once loved about the show from what I now feel about it?

Friendship Shifts and Enduring Bonds in the World of Sex and the City

Examining The Evolving Dynamics Between Carrie, Charlotte, And Miranda

No one else in Carrie’s circle seems very happy either right now, except for Harry. He is still the best on the show. He was truly joyful watching Herbert perform with his college a cappella group at a fundraiser for his political campaign. Few people will ever know that much happiness. I am glad that And Just Like That finally let Christopher Jackson use his amazing singing voice. Seema, who decided at the end of season two to wait for her man just like Carrie, does not even last five months. She breaks things off with Ravi, who I call the walking scarf. And she has good reason to do this.

Ravi, who seems less charming than last season, is totally focused on his movie shooting in Egypt. He keeps missing phone sex dates. Instead his assistant logs in to tell her the bad news. Seema almost burns down her apartment when she falls asleep with a cigarette after waiting for him. But what truly ends their relationship is that when he finally agrees to visit her in New York, he makes it a work trip. He drags her around the city location-scouting with his team. Thank goodness Seema ends this by sunset. She is a woman who knows what she is worth. She is worth so much more than holding a bag of Cool Ranch potato chips and a Sprite in the back of a van. She owns too many silk matching sets for that kind of nonsense.

Miranda, too, still has bad luck in love. But at least her story gives us some laughs and plenty of cringe moments, which I mean as a compliment. I do not know how else to say this but Miranda takes the virginity of a nun named Mary. Rosie O’Donnell plays Mary which is a hilarious casting choice. This happens while Miranda is exploring herself and New York City. Yes, there are many jokes about the Virgin Mary and holy ghosting. The best joke, however, is Carrie’s conclusion that she cares less about Miranda taking a nun’s virginity and more about Miranda sleeping with a tourist. Carrie giggles each time Miranda gets a new text from Mary. Mary asks her to meet in places like Tavern on the Green, the Central Park Carousel, and outside the M&M Store in Times Square. Mary is like a young deer, experiencing the world for the first time. She makes the most typical tourist choices, as we all do sometimes. While Carrie might giggle, Miranda cannot bring herself to ignore this nun. Maybe it is because Miranda feels for a woman trying to find herself. But I also have to believe part of it is because Mary said having sex with her was "electric." These women are nothing if not self-centered, which I mean as a compliment again.

Carrie Bradshaw's Fashion Legacy Continues to Spark Conversation and Debate

From Controversial Hats to Iconic Dresses, Carrie's Style Remains a Talking Point

When I watch these newer episodes, I realize I am no longer watching for the drama. I am watching to see how they have aged. What has changed in their bodies, their faces, their confidence. This is not about taking pleasure in their struggles. It is solidarity. It is curiosity. It is my own fear. There is something gentle, even brave, in how the show keeps showing them. Carrie gets hip surgery. Miranda deals with drinking problems and a sexual identity crisis. Charlotte has to accept her daughter’s gender identity. It is messy and sometimes silly and sometimes very, very cringe. But at least it is trying.

Carrie Bradshaw has always been known for her bold fashion choices. From Sex and the City to And Just Like That, her outfits never fail to get people talking. Remember the Christian Dior newspaper-print dress? That outfit became a fashion legend. It was from Dior’s ready-to-wear autumn-winter 2000 collection. Carrie wore it while walking in slow motion through Manhattan streets. That dress is still talked about today and sells for a lot of money when it appears at auctions.

Recently, Carrie's huge floppy brown and white gingham hat from And Just Like That season 3 created a stir. People called it "unhinged" and compared it to a pillowcase or a diaper bag. Despite all the comments, the hat goes completely unmentioned in the show by her friends. It makes you wonder what the costume designers were thinking. According to Molly Rogers and Danny Santiago, the show's costume designers, there is a big plot point that influenced Carrie's style this season. She is changing from a sex memoir author to a historical romance novelist. Perhaps she is looking to old-fashioned bonnets for ideas for her new novel. She also starts spending time in Aidan’s rural farmhouse. Her fashion might be her way of playing with a new identity.

I am here. No longer young. I do not go to parties. I do not do bar crawls or gallery openings or wear heels to dinner. I barely wear mascara. My children are grown. My body is changing. I know that I am not who I once was. Yet, every so often, I look through old photos from that time. A picture with a celebrity. A table full of drinks and cigarettes. A brunch in SoHo in low-rise jeans. I remember what it felt like to be 24, to feel strong, and to believe that life would always be like that.

The third season of And Just Like That is out now. I am quickly watching the old episodes so I can catch up. I do not know why I rush. I have time now. It sometimes feels like endless time. No one is waiting for me at an underground party. There are no velvet ropes. No bouncers I need to impress. No late-night taxis I need to beg to take me to Brooklyn. Just me. Without the frantic dating. Without the city rush.