I missed the boat with Sex and the City. I didn’t watch it back in the day—mostly due to being a literal fetus when the first episode aired in 1998. As an adult, I think I’ve subconsciously been delaying diving into Sex and the City because I suspected that as soon as I went there, I’d become fully obsessed and binge it in a fortnight.
But to mark its 25th anniversary, I was tasked with reviewing the classic series for Vogue as a first-time viewer—and fully paid-up member of Generation Z—meaning I could no longer put off the inevitable. I was so excited to finally find out what all the fuss was about: to revel in the fashion, to live out my New York fantasies vicariously through these four women, to find out whether I’m a Carrie, a Miranda, a Samantha or a Charlotte. (Spoiler alert: I’m none of them.)
Twenty-five years late, here are my hot takes after watching Season 1 of Sex and the City.
I love to hate Carrie
She’s a journalist in the big city with a shoe addiction—I can relate. However, I do not relate to so many of the conclusions she draws in her columns. Take Episode 2 (“Models and Mortals”), in which Carrie explores why certain men only date models. The gang ends up shaming models, implying that they are “bimbos” who don’t have real jobs. (I quote Samantha: “I’ve been out with lots of guys and they say I’m just as beautiful as a model, but I work for a living.”) All four of them emerge as pick-me girls [that woman who constantly seeks male validation for being “not like other girls”] as a result. Rather than focusing on the men, Carrie’s column should have focused on the women, and asked exactly why they are dating these average-looking blokes. How did these guys manage to pull models, anyway?
Sexual harassment is dealt with way too casually
In many ways, Sex and the City is a period piece. In Episode 3 (“Bay of Married Pigs”), Carrie visits her married friends—though she admits she’s only friends with them so she can enjoy the use of their house—Patience and Peter, who live in the Hamptons. Completely out of the blue, Peter flashes his penis to Carrie as she is on her way to the bathroom. I gasped thrice. Firstly because Carrie was being, as we would rightly label it now, sexually assaulted in what she thought was a safe space. Secondly, at Patience seeming angry at Carrie, despite the fact that she is the victim in this scenario. My third gasp came later, as the gang has a debrief, and discusses the flashing like it’s no big deal. Samantha even flippantly asks: “So, how big was it?”
Elsewhere in Episode 2, we meet a friend of Carrie’s who reveals that he secretly films all of the models he has sex with. Carrie brushes this off as just a little weird. Samantha sees it as an opportunity for an ego boost, and even goes as far as having sex with the man in question to get him to record her. Not only is it all just super icky, it’s also illegal.
This show does not accurately represent New York City in the ’90s
Now, I wasn’t an NYC citizen at the turn of the millennium, but I am pretty sure that then, as now, it was one of the most diverse places on earth. According to the New York City 1990 and 2000 censuses, 56.8% of the city’s population was ethnically diverse—and 25.2% of the city identified as Black/African American. Throughout the entirety of Season 1, I counted only seven non-white characters—all in minor, one-line roles. Side eye.
Samantha was ahead of her time
She’s nobody’s girl and proves it every time. Watching this show in 2023, post-third (and fourth) wave feminism, Samantha isn’t that radical. Her casual attitudes towards sex and relationships feel so commonplace now that I barely batted an eyelid at her blasé outlook. Nonetheless, she really was ahead of her time—I had to keep reminding myself that this show first aired in 1998, a pre-app time when casual sex and hook-up culture was still fairly taboo. On the one hand you have Charlotte, frothing at the mouth at the idea of the perfect suburban, nuclear family (and judging anyone who doesn’t want the same). On the other you have Samantha, unfazed and proudly fucking whoever she likes, societal expectations be damned. A favorite moment was her “I-don’t-have-a-baby” shower—a great example of her owning her choice to not have kids.
Does Mr. Big even like Carrie?
He is so cavalier, but not in a sexy way. I don’t find the hot-and-cold nature of Carrie’s relationship with him exciting; it’s tedious. He never explicitly says how he feels, and dances around any opportunities to explain. Why is everything so secretive and blurry? Particularly during the first few episodes, I was expecting him to turn out to be secretly married. As I powered through the season his character became more clear, but there was still something so uniquely irritating about him.
Some final thoughts…
- This show is so fast-paced. Blink, and yet another boyfriend has been and gone. I guess this is all part of capturing the energy of that aspirational, fantasy New York lifestyle. As a viewer, you feel like the foursome lead such extraordinarily important lives, full of gossip, parties, and sexual escapades.
- It feels weird to see main characters (who aren’t villains) smoke on TV.
- Carrie’s hair is incredible—it surprised me to see her embrace her natural curly hair.
- The occasional breaking of the fourth wall is so ’90s.
- What an absolutely fabulous theme song. It’s jazzy, it’s catchy, it’s flirty. It’s a slay.
- Miranda treats Skipper the way that Big treats Carrie.
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