I’ve got the set of Sex & the City from the ex-boyfriend years ago. He left it on the mat in front of my apartment’s door as if it was a token of love; before leaving for a trip – simply by playing the bell and leaving.
Never could I think that this would be the most welcomed gift.
The first viewings lasted less than two weeks. I was at university, and the days flew without any hurry cadenced by some lectures of modern literature and the luxury of the afternoons on the bed and sleepless nights with the television on. I went on from the episode to the episode, getting up from the bed only to grab something to eat.
Right from the start I had the distinct feeling that it would be a drug but I have never thought I would end up addicted to it.
I have been through a lot of those weeks. Visions, and birthdays, too.
And the survivors of the series consumed and lived with me as if for real. They still are as the most fine indulgence among the love stories in the library of my milky white studio.
But the point is not that.
And oh, please don’t shrug you nose as I see some of you might feel distancing yourself from this thought being full of the feminism’s platitudes. But the reality is that each of us, at least for a second, thought it would be nice to have a little Carrie in ourselves.
I’m not talking about her wardrobe and collection of Manolos. Of the vortex of sparkling party, the number of men with the binomial shoulder-width, and the face-slapping, and sleek confidence that can only find a place in a script for a show of love.
But the complicity of the women that keeps you riveted there. In front of the screen. Making you feel one of them. Not tired but fun, sometimes moving.
Of courage that takes you out of the house wearing a pair of high heels in the morning. If you wish for that day is to flaunt your femininity.
Of the lightness that only we – women have, but too often forget somewhere in the bottoms of our bags and rush to find something – the first thing – to wear in the morning and not be late to the office.
Dare to love and fashion.
And madly fall in love: with a man or a pair of shoes.
I think in the end this is what our modern “Little Women” teach us.
Sure, I stood by their side through their countless dates, cosmopolitans, and yes, even a few cupcakes so the question is how much Sex & the City girl are you, or why not at all? And how did you meet Carrie?
Images via tumblr.com, except the first one.