On Friday night, legions of women across North America dressed to the nines, piled into cabs and cars, ordered endless rounds of cosmos with their dinner, and dutifully lined up and filed into movie theatres for the premiere of the
Sex and the City movie. I should know: my girlfriends and I were part of those legions!
I could hardly contain my excitement all day at work and even went to the office dressed as Charlotte York Goldenblatt. Charlotte is probably the most conservative, classic, feminine, tasteful dresser out of the four girls, so her style actually translated pretty well to an office environment. On the way to the kitchen for some coffee, one of my more sartorially smart coworkers (a rare occurrence in a software company, no matter how trendy the neighbourhood its office is located in) gave me a once-over and pronounced me "very summery."
"Thanks," I replied. "I was actually going for Connecticut WASP."
Cue the cracking up, and then even more laughter as I explained who I was supposed to be.
As the day wore on and my SATC enthusiasm spilled over into numerous MSN conversations with guy friends at work, I discovered oddly enough that all the guys had a thing for Charlotte. Even the ones who didn't know the show always remembered "the dark-haired one" and swore up and down that she was the hottest one out of all of them. I guess all four SATC girls look amazing, but Charlotte has the more classically attractive features.
(Me doing my best Charlotte impression at Lucy Mae Brown, the restaurant where we had dinner and drinks.)
Fast forward to 8pm, and it seemed that everyone was fashionably late for our dinner-and-drinks plans at Lucy Mae Brown. Luckily I made it there a bit early and held down the table! Eventually everyone did make it, and we had a brilliant dinner and all sorts of yummy girly drinks (mostly cosmos).
(My friends Lulu and Norma. Aren't they gorgeous?! Look at that hair, and I would kill for their eyelashes.)
(Ali on the far right joined us later. She's a dead-ringer as a younger version of Samantha, isn't she?)
Dinner took longer than we thought, and by the time we left the restaurant and frantically piled into Ali's car for the mad dash to Scotiabank Theatre, it was already past 10 and the show was at 10:40. I had a sinking feeling that we wouldn't be able to get any good seats and would be forced to sit way too close to the screen, especially as we made our way upstairs and saw the line-up of well-dressed, manicured and pedicured girls all waiting for the show.
(The lineup seemed like the perfect time for a group shot.)
The wait wasn't long at all before the theatre employees opened the door and the line surged forward. My theory is that they were being merciful to all us gals tottering on our heels, letting us wait for the movie while sitting down in the comfort of cushy seats rather than killing our feet standing in line. Ali snuck in M&Ms and Skittles, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the women who'd snuck in wine for the show just before ours. Much to my relief, we snagged great seats: mid-way up the theatre, in the balcony section so that MizzJ and I, being the short chicks we were, didn't have to crane our necks over someone else's huge head to see the screen.
(MizzJ and I in our seats, waiting eagerly for the movie to start!)
(We had so much time to kill I even did a "shoe shot." From top left going clockwise: MizzJ, Ali, me.)
Non-fans of SATC won't understand what the hype was all about and would probably think this was a shallow, vapid movie about shallow, vapid women. For the fans who've seen these characters grow through six seasons on the small screen and understand the subtext of much of the plot, the film was the perfect love letter to fans everywhere - just like the one Mr. Big sends Carrie during a pivotal scene. It was well worth the wait.
