My initial impression of Sex and the City was a group of women, unrealistically living life in New York City gabbing about cultural and social trends that are not only topics of moronic, dulled importance, but also crap I don't care about. This was before I'd seen a full episode, based only on advertising and trailers.
I've almost perused through the length of season one. And I am beyond addicted. It's shameful and embarrassing and, the worst part is I don't care. I watch them on my lunch break, lying in bed at night, and working out in the morning. I got through five episodes in one day and all I wanted was more.
Another disturbing thought that courses my brain veins is the idea that many women want to live this life and have these friends and run confidently through the streets of Manhattan in Jimmy Choos.
And in no way shape or form will I board that train.
I've learned this show, to me, is a guilty pleasure. I'm aware it's not how the typical person lives their life and, I feel, that's why I enjoy the escape.
Now, despite my stage five clinger-like attitude to having to watch an episode every chance I get, I do have a few discrepancies.
As an individual who aimed to be a journalist, I was at first surprised by Carrie Bradshaw's profession as a columnist. Anyone would kill to have a consistent column in a well-known NYC publication. When I was planning my career path from the ages of 16 to 19, I thought I wanted this. Big city living, writing, writing and more writing, the smell of fresh newspapers (still gets me--why haven't they made this a candle scent?) and the satisfaction of having something published, although the 1,000 times you re-read it, you're still making edits.
As most of you know, my career did not follow this path. I am a graphic designer, instead choosing to follow a creative journey that challenges me every day in something that does not come so easily. One of the big hitting reasons my journalistic ideals tanked was my early experience in college. I visited a newsroom for broadcasting as well as a newspaper publication, and after talking to many reporters, editors and employees, I could not have run out of there faster. I appreciated their honesty, but this is what was relayed--minimum 60 hour work weeks, deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, crossing your t's and dotting your i's in every way or job loss, legal issues, and worst of all, idiocy.
Long story short, the journalism world, especially for big publications or new sources, tends to takeover your life. And, at that time, I felt as though I could not commit it completely.
Carrie Bradshaw sits on her bed and types on her laptop at least once a week. In no way shape or form does she spend enough time on her "successful" column to be printed in a popular piece on the regular.
Discrepancy #2I haven't quite made it to further seasons, so I'm assuming, only due to what I've seen over the years, that Carrie's money situation changes.
However, the first season portrays Carrie's sense of taste in fashion, an expensive taste at that. She references early on having to walk city blocks in $400 shoes. Let me point this out to you, in 2013 the average columnist makes around $30,000 per year. If you're making $30,000, you are not buying $400 shoes and living in an apartment her size. She has a kitchen, dining room, living room and a bedroom with enough space for multiple cartwheels across. Financially, this doesn't add up, pun intended.
In one episode she is indulging in shop therapy, using expensive shoes as her weakness, she attempts to buy another pair of <insert unimaginable amount of money to spend on footwear> heels. When she gets to the register to pay, the sales associate cuts up her card and denies her the shoes.
First off, this wouldn't happen. He can deny her card, but the sales associate has no right to physically cut it up. More importantly, if this were to happen to me, I'd run out crying and spend whatever couch change I could find to eat an entire tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream while watching disney movies. I would have to take time to seriously reevaluate my financial decisions and definitely not find solace in going out for cosmos with my friends at an expensive New York bar.
Money is not unlimited when you're a weekly columnist, or else everyone would be columnists.
I'm not one to meddle and judge in the sexual lives of my friends, but I'm pretty sure my friends aren't giant sluts. The women on this show sleep with anyone and everyone, get into cars with strangers, and leave their drinks at the bar when they go to the restroom.
These are all surefire ways to find yourself tied up in someone's basement. I get the show is called Sex and the City, but I'm sure the working title was Sluts in the City. I get it was the 90s and people weren't quite aware of sexual health and safety as they are now, but I'm surprised none of them have syphilis.
After all my noted discrepancies, it's still hard for me not to fantasize about living in NYC, writing a weekly story and exploring the city day and night. I would first have to win the lottery so I could live as luxuriously, but I could place myself in this scenario, replacing the sleeping around and cosmos with karaoke bars and vodka waters.
So, I suppose at some point I will have to get together a gang of 4 women to fulfill this dream, then I can make my coast to coast move. I already have a Charlotte, so..
P.S. Up until about 2 years ago, I thought it was Sex in the City.
Thanks for soundin' down.
A catechism ( //; Ancient Greek: κατηχισμός from kata = "down" + echein = "to sound", literally "to sound down" (into the ears), is a summary or exposition of doctrine, traditionally used inChristian religious teaching from New Testament times to the present. Catechisms are doctrinal manuals often in the form of questions followed by answers to be memorized, a format that has been used in non-religious or secular contexts as well