I resent the fantasy that Sex and the City presents to us women. Not the sexual freedom and adventure (been there, done that). No, the false idealisation of female friendship.
[Slight disclaimer: I have only actually seen about 1/2 of an episode of SATC. But I’ve seen enough ads for the show and the movie, and read enough People magazine to get the gist. It ain’t rocket science.]
There is this myth of the female sisterhood, that we all sit around and share our most intimate secrets and each of us is scrupulously kept up to date on every microscopic aspect of our lives.
Who has the time??!
There are many women who I consider to be near and dear to me. Some of them I speak with once or twice a year. None of them do I see more frequently than weekly (except co-workers, but that doesn’t count).
And when I do see them, we are usually beset by small people running around and under and through and over and all other prepositions. There is no opportunity for deep confidences when you must simultaneously be aware of where the boys are with the wooden weaponry.
But even before we all procreated, I did not call my best girlfriends to confide my latest romantic misadventure. We did not sit around one of our bedrooms in fancy pajamas to eat bonbons and smite the name of our rivals. We did not have this kind of “dress up and go out and talk and drink and eat and gossip and console” relationship.
No women I know have that. It doesn’t exist outside of Hollywood.
And I resent the women actors of SATC for being party to the perpetuation of this delusory feminine alliance. They should know better.