Toronto Diary
1 min

The post-Carrie Bradshaw world

Today, the blogospheres lit up with reports about a new CW series that would serve as a prequel to Sex and the City. The Carrie Diaries would focus on gay-fave Carrie Bradshaw’s life before she grew up to be TV’s premier fag hag. As someone who started watching SatC around the dawn of adulthood, I do have a special place in my heart for the plucky yet vulnerable sex-columnist who made it in the big city.

Which is why I think we need to let Carrie die.

The original incarnation of Carrie Bradshaw was powerful and confident in her worklife and her sexuality. Much like Xena, Buffy and even Ally McBeal, Carrie came around in a time when powerful women were becoming more prominent in pop culture. The ‘90s were a time when sex and power stopped being monopolized by straight men, and the largely male-dominated culture was forced to cede the fact that biologically speaking, gays and women still had enjoyed sex as much, and even more, than they did.

But then something weird happened: around the fifth season, something went haywire in Michael Patrick King’s brain — something that spilled over into the otherwise very funny 2 Broke Girls — wherein MPS started confusing extravagant materialism for sexual liberation. Instead of being a powerful woman, Carrie became a woman with shoes. Unabashed sexuality was replaced with strappy Manolo Blahnik sandals.

Which is why I don’t want to see any new Carrie Bradshaw. As far as I’m concerned, Carrie Bradshaw is still the woman from the first four seasons: confident, self-assured and unapologetic when it comes to her sexual desires. I don’t want to see that idea permutated for the sake of shoes. 

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