fashion

'Dressing For Your Age' is dead. And Just Like That has been dancing on its grave.

I do not look like Sarah Jessica Parker. 

Neither do you. 

I never did. Neither did you. 

The iconic SJP - and by default Carrie Bradshaw (or is that the other way around?) - is all teeny-tiny delicate, fascinatingly attractive in the least cookie-cutter of ways. Shiny hair for days that looks epic c-c-curly or straight, bobbed or waist-length. Able to walk without sobbing in the highest of heels. Equally at home in micro-minis, men's tailored pants, a ball gown, a Heidi dress. A tutu, of course. 

I could no more wear what she - or her wears - to work, to lunch, to shop - than you could (stop reading now, Mia Freedman, you are the exception that proves the rule). 

And yet, spending 10 weeks watching SJP/Carrie wearing clothes has been the highlight of a dark Summer. 

Watch the trailer for And Just Like That here. Post continues below.


Video via Binge.

I've watched the Sex And The City reboot And Just Like That in pyjamas (well, what passes for pyjamas in my house, possibly active wear, maybe an oversized T-shirt, potentially shorts), while shivering through an intense bout of COVID, pondering which holiday plan to cancel next, wrestling with a tricky creative project, work and all the regular family dramas, all while trying to hold back an ever-ballooning wave of impending doom. 

But the colour and movement of AJLT has made me consider that possibly, maybe, things will get better. And that one day, I will no longer be wearing an elasticated waist. 

Yes, we have choked on tea witnessing the often-clumsy attempts to make a show birthed in the cynical, irreverent 1990s culturally relevant in the earnest, inclusive 2020s. 

And yes, we have cringed a little at how it has dealt with absent friends - the disgraced ones (Chris Noth), the actually departed ones (Willie Garson) and the ones who wanted no part of it (Kim Catrall). 

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