Embarrassingly, I have yet to see the latest installment of Sex and the City. Embarrassed because I am one of many hardcore fans that has followed Carrie through each and every experience documented in that furry, magenta DVD collection. Also, because it has seemed to seriously let down my fellow feminists, and I am – per usual – late with any witty, cynical, analytical critique.
I’m happy to say, my nearest and dearest have not been sitting on the sidelines. First, continuing to inspire me in my writing (as well as in life) is my good friend and feminist conspirator, Holly Kent. The SATC 2 train wreck has moved her to such extent that she’s started Back On Carrie’s Stoop – a journaling, if you will, of her experience as she examines the entire series start to finish, knowing where the end has brought us. Think of it as dusting off old yearbooks and remembering the good old days….but a hell of a lot more fun.
Another good friend – riot grrl, roller grrl, all-around ass-kicker – Cindy Rodriguez has written an amazing piece for Lesbiatopia, examining how a woman can love SATC and still be a – GASP – lesbian…?? Good stuff.
I will be frequenting the literary works of my friends and other feminist lens-wearers until I can be fully prepared to dish out a week’s worth of rent to purchase a nauseatingly overpriced L.A. movie ticket to what Ms. Kent refers to as, “…a film which I knew, with a certainty as sure as death and taxes, that I would whole-heartedly despise.”
Bring on the tartinis.