I remember when Sex & the City first arrived on our screens way back in 1998. I recall seeing a strange tutu-clad pink-wafer with disproportionately massive tits and a face like a stunt man’s knee getting deservedly splashed by a passing bus to the random sound of South-American piano music. It looked terrible before it even started but the hype was so huge that I completely and utterly fell for it. It wasn’t until about the fourth or fifth episode that I thought “Wait a fucking minute here, this banter is horrendous, what the hell am I doing? South Park is on and I’m watching this pile of mince?” Little did I know that this pretentious nonsense would go on to single-handedly destroy the entire female race within a couple of years.
Now, I’m from Aberdeen and if ever there was anywhere in the world that is the complete polar opposite of upper-class Manhattan, it is working-class Aberdeen. There is literally nothing in SATC that I can relate to and I am fine with this, delighted even. Unfortunately, a growing number of our female population have bought in to this delusion and literally nothing will get in the way of them appearing to be Kincorth’s answer to Carrie Bradshaw. It is so painful to watch. They are skint and yet they spend what little money they have on designer crap to give the impression that they are some sort of high-flying, independent success story. I once spoke to a girl in a club who came out with this peach “Yeah, you know, I work for Dior so it’s really important that I look my best at all times, you could say that it’s part of the Public Relations aspect of my job, hnarf, hnarf”. Would you like to know in what capacity she worked for Dior? She worked on the fucking Boots counter. I’m not even kidding, that is a true story. I instantly disliked the girl, not because she worked at a Boots counter but because she spoke to me like she was some sort of fashion-industry heavyweight. I wasn’t inspired, I wasn’t impressed and I wasn’t envious – I was disappointed. Sadly it’s everywhere now, young women don’t seem to want to enjoy each other’s company anymore, all they are interested in is trying to out-do each other and it makes me sad.
Then there’s the fag-hag storylines. I am not easily offended and I’m not gay but sometimes I think the gay characters in SATC are portrayed a little too stereotypically. They are immensely camp, they always talk about sex and they generally come across as superficial fairies incapable of any intelligent thought. It’s so boring and has been done a hundred times in the 70’s (i.e. Are You Being Served) but again, girls in the real world pick up on this and run with it. A woman I know once asked me if I had any gay friends and at the time I didn’t so I replied ‘No’. She proceeded to look at me as if I had just pissed on her kids and screeched “Oh my god, you dont have any gay friends?? I have like three! You have got to get yourself a gay friend, they’re fab!!”. Since when are gay people an accessory? Surely you make a friend first and if they are gay then it’s a big gay bonus. You don’t make friends with a guy solely because he loves cock. Do you? It seems that this is indeed what a lot of these irritating females do and, again, I’m sad about it.
SATC has also ruined cocktails for me. I used to really like a cocktail, not because they are fancy and expensive and make you look like a sophisticated über bitch but because they get you completely fuckoed and taste all fruity and nice. These days I get nervous even saying the word ‘cocktail’ because when I hear other people say it they make it sound like some sort of achievement – “Me and the girlies are going for some cocktails! Honestly, soooo busy at work just now, I think we deserve to just chillax with a Cosmo or two, tee hee”. When all of this silliness first started I went along on one of these after-work-cocktail sessions and I left wondering just how upset my parents would be if I hung myself with their shower curtain. The conversation consisted of what I like to call ‘The 4 H’s’: Handbags, how busy & hard-done by everyone was, husbands & how annoying it is when they leave wet towels on the floor (although that is really fucking annoying) and how amazingly expensive & luxurious their last holiday was. It was terrible! I know these girls had more to give but they could not bring themselves to steer the conversation onto a subject that may have made them look a little less than perfect. All this because four fictional STD-encrusted whore-robots have decided that this is what women should talk about.
Most of it I can deal with but the day that SATC interfered with my food was the day it irreversibly crossed a line. Billy and I were round at an acquaintance’s house some time ago when one of the girls there asked if we would like any “nibbles and dips”, an offer we enthusiastically accepted. She returned with hummus & celery sticks. Now, I don’t know about you, but when someone says ‘nibbles and dips’ I think Doritos & super-chunky salsa not plants dipped in liquidised Middle-Eastern lentils. And why did she do this? To make us feel shit and to make her look all Charlotte York, healthy and ethnic. She was slightly fat, so I know for a fact she would have preferred pizza and probably phoned Pizza Hut after we left to gorge herself on an extra large meat feast and a 2 litre bottle of Pepsi Max. After exchanging a few horrified glances, Billy and I swiftly bolted, swearing never to return before nipping into KFC for a quick Boneless Banquet. See, if she had just worried less about what other people thought of her and more about having a good time then we all could have had pizza and a much more enjoyable evening.
You know when you look out of a car window and the repetitive scenery eventually becomes invisible? That’s what I see sometimes when I go into town on a Saturday night: A vast landscape of self-importance with very little in the way of good, uninhibited fun. I was working as a waitress in a restaurant across the road from a cinema when the SATC movie came out. The entire place was jam-packed full of clunge. One table that stood out (all be it barely) consisted of 4 women in their late 30’s discussing which one of the SATC characters they most resembled. The strain on their laughing faces as they shamefully slid their Primark shopping bags under their seats and sipped on their apple martinis was verging on nervous breakdown material. Unfortunately they held it together, but it left me wondering:
Would the world be a better place if all the Sex & the City girls died in a horrific house-fire or would the masses find someone even more basic to idolise?
A collection of my personal favourite SATC quotes for you to enjoy:
– “Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.” –GAY.
– “It’s really hard to walk in a single woman’s shoes — that’s why you sometimes need really special shoes!” –Oh, hahaha! Shoes!
– “Are we simply romantically challenged, or are we sluts?” –You’re sluts.
– “I have a date with a dildo.” –Gross.
– “Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that’s just fabulous.” –Fit?
– “Life is pain, life is only pain. We’re all taught to believe in happy fairytale endings, but there is only blackness; dark depressing loneliness that eats away at your soul.” –That’s better, more of this please.