How Watching “And Just Like That” Devolved Into an Exploration of My Worst Fears About Aging
I didn’t get to experience Sex and the City during its original heyday. My parents would never pay for HBO, and I was too young and too pure of heart to observe such filth, obviously! My high school boyfriend’s mom watched it. I remember wandering into her room and she turned the TV off suspiciously fast, so naturally I had questions. She said it wasn’t meant for me. A little “too old.” I took her word for it.
Eventually, I went off to college. I was supposed to attend FIT in New York, but when that didn’t work out, I ended up in Atlanta and then, on an absolute whim, Nashville. Ahh to be young…It wasn’t the path I’d initially carved out for myself, but at least I wasn’t stuck at home. When I discovered my university had an internship program to do a semester in New York, I was hell bent on getting in. It seemed safe enough. An experiment that was cheaper and promised far less paperwork and commitments than fully relocating to the city. A spot became available for the fall semester, and after a bad breakup and an intense desire to get as far away from my adopted home as possible, I found myself with about a dozen of my classmates (who were absolute strangers to me) living the farthest I’d even traveled away from home. We weren’t remotely close to the city. I think it took the better part of an hour to get to my internship on the subway. But I still reflect on that time fondly on how those were some of the best moments of my life.
Many years later, I still find myself wondering if my funnest times are in the rearview.
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I discovered Sex and the City in my own time. I was in my late 20s, and I think the DVD collection was on sale at Target. I bought every single season, and I poured over them. When I was bored, heartbroken, in need of fashion inspiration — they were there. It’s my comfort show. I still watch it often. Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte are not just characters to me. They’re strong, focused women who are dear friends to each other and support one another through the best and worst of times. I identified with being young and trudging through the minefield of dating. Bearing witness to my friends’ wild life events. Leaning on one another for support, survival, and routine late night outings that turned into early morning adventures. I aspired to be as successful and established in my career. And I loved my time in New York, although we lived vastly different lives — Charlotte resided in a multi-million dollar apartment on the Upper East Side, and I lived an assisted living facility that had been converted to university housing in the middle of nowhere Brooklyn. There was literally a fold-down bench in the shower. I remember being rather horrified at the time, but I’m telling you, I would wear that thing out now.
When I heard about the reboot, I was beyond thrilled. I didn’t get to experience SATC in real time when the show was at its most popular. I was so excited to watch my “friends” on TV! And I tune in every single week. I wake up at the crack of dawn to let my dogs out, and then I stumble over to the couch to watch the newest episode. The finale airs today. And instead of being halfway through the episode, I’m on my couch. Writing this post. Hoping Carrie fires off enough one liners to sustain me until another season airs or Steve gets the justice he deserves or Miranda makes it an entire episode without referring to herself as “Rambo.” #gag
And I can’t help but feel a little…let down. Of course I knew it wouldn’t be the same. It never could have been. The last episode aired in 2004, 3 months before I graduated high school. I think of all the lives I’ve lived since then. Surely I had to expect the characters to do the same. But something just feels off. I don’t feel the same enchantment I once did. Maybe the reason I keep coming back is because I’m hoping for glimmers of the original iteration. The actors have stated that this isn’t a reboot of the original series as much as it’s a new chapter, but it’s based on the same characters. (minus one very important Samantha). In talking about it with a good friend who’s basically hate-watching it at this point, we finally broke down where it misses the mark, for us, anyways: there isn’t anything aspirational.
Yes, the fashion is incredible. Yes, they still find themselves in stressful and chaotic situations. But there’s something missing. My favorite podcast, Las Culturistas, describes the show as carrying a baseline of anxiety. Maybe they’re trying to atone for too many sins from the original show? Maybe they’re trying to bridge too many cultural gaps? Cynthia Nixon referred to SATC as “an unbelievably white show” on Late Night with Seth Meyers last week, and I don’t disagree with her. But those things weren’t just challenged in the opening of And Just Like That. It feels like every single week we’re hashing out the same issues over and over again. And the constant anxiety and tension married with the fact that we seem to be finding the cast in some sort of mid-life purgatory makes it difficult to watch. I know it can’t be parties and vacations and bar-hopping all the time. But could it be at least some of the time? Carrie is a writer-turned-podcaster who’s a recent widower with a hip birth defect. I am a writer and aspiring podcaster that broke her entire body *it feels like* in a ski accident a year ago. There are a lot of parallels here! But beyond the first few episodes, they barely show her on the podcast, and when they do, she seems unsure of herself and inferior. Of course we all have those moments, but that’s not the Carrie we know and love. For someone whose career was the lens through which we experienced the entire show, how is that now just a random subplot?
Maybe I expected too much. And I’m not talking about the fact that Carrie’s surgery and subsequent recovery were unrealistically knocked out over the course of a single episode (I REALIZE THIS IS A PERSONAL ISSUE OF MINE). It’s just that — and I’m ashamed to admit this, but I know I’m not alone — I am terrified of getting older. Working in the beauty industry for so long has broken my brain. My recently deceased grandmother would tell me all the time, “oh, you’re just a baby.” But she’s not here anymore, and I’m left to my own devices. I’m scared. I don’t have things even close to figured out the way I thought or hoped I might at this age. How am I supposed to keep moving forward if I don’t even have a handle on the present?
And there’s also the physical aspect. The way my body will look. The way my body will feel (which is something I hadn’t really considered until my body didn’t fully recover from the ski accident). I have a lot of fear wrapped up in it. As I look to my elders, Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte (God, I miss Samantha), I’m not feeling much hope. And this has nothing to do with their physical appearance. I’ve seen so many articles pop up on this subject, and it’s honestly sexist and disgusting. I’m referring to the current state of the character’s lives. Unless I’m looking to blow up my marriage or learn poor coping tips for parenting a gender nonbinary child, there isn’t much for me to aspire to. It’s bumming me out.
It feels like everyone is still trying to figure out their place in the universe. Of course circumstances change, but I guess I assumed the characters’ lives would be a little more concretized at this point. Maybe that’s a misconception on my part. And herein lies a new fear: am I going to be just as unsure of myself in 20 years as I am right now? Because that honestly sounds like a nightmare.
And furthermore, these women had such thrilling, vibrant lives. And now…? It all feels pretty flat (unless you count Miranda’s affair, which is exciting I guess, but also makes me feel kinda icky). These women aren’t puttering around a nursing home, but they aren’t exactly out living their lives, either (and this show is set in a post-covid universe, so that’s not an excuse). They live in New York City, not rural Idaho! Can we see something other than Anthony’s baguette brigade? (Not complaining, but that’s about as exciting as the show gets for me.) Carrie dresses to the nines every day of her life. Can she attend a fashion show? Can Miranda take control of her obnoxious teenage son? Can Charlotte and Rock hang out with Jonathan Van Ness or something? Can anyone not seem completely defeated? Is that life in your 50s? Just being worn the hell out with everything? My throat is closing up as I type this out.
I am stressed.
So I guess I’m about to put on the last episode of AJLT. I hope the show offers some redemption in its final moments. If they make another season, of course I’ll watch. But maybe I won’t look to it in the same way I once did. Maybe this show can’t be what I need it to be right now because maybe it isn’t for me yet. And maybe in a few decades I’ll circle back and think, “Wow, they really hit the mark!” But for now, I think I’m going to devote my energy to another HBO Max show, Sex Lives of College Girls, because I’m not too far removed from college to identify with the special brand of chaos it brings, and maybe the best way to abate my fears is to revisit a time in my life that I felt youthful and cool and even a little unbothered.
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