Sex And The City sold us a fantasy about single life
Last week, Carrie creator Candace Bushnell revised her view of life as a single woman. Here, Emily Maddick examines how the cult show affected her own lifestyle choices
a few years ago, an older colleague said to me, ‘Never love a job, because it will never love you back.’ It startled me. I was 33 and had spent the past decade devoted to pursuing a career in journalism. I was proud of what I’d achieved, having risen up the ranks to become showbusiness correspondent for a national newspaper and then news editor of Grazia. Now I’m 38 and I’ve climbed yet further up the ladder, but I am still single. And when I look back at the past 15 years, that cautionary advice now feels deafening.
‘I regret prioritising my career’– it sounds so shockingly unfeminist. But over the past couple of years, something has shifted inside me. Now that I am staring down the barrel of 40, single, with no children and not yet on the property ladder, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened had
No matter how far we think we’ve come, single prejudice is still rife
I not spent so much time investing in my own ambition and instead tried harder to find and nurture a relationship. Someone with whom to share a mortgage, and most pertinently, some children: things that really matter to me that I’ve always wanted.
My mid-twenties were swallowed up working on a Sunday newspaper, travelling the country and spending weekend nights in the office. In the early years at Grazia, my evenings were spent attending red-carpet events. Every time a relationship went sour, I would pour more time and energy into work to distract myself.
And it was fun! I was living the dream, I loved my job and my independence. Mr Right would turn up eventually, and I could think about settling down and starting a family then, I’d rationalise. I now wish I had spent more time going on dates or analysing why relationships ended. I think my ambition intimidated men and I came off as too focused on work to have room for anything else in my life.
Many of my single friends feel the same. ‘I had blind ambition,’ says Amy, a 38-yearold bigwig in tech. ‘For years, all I could focus on was achieving my next career goal. I thought it was what was expected of me; I felt validated and I was earning great money. But once I hit 35, I started to think, there must be more to this?’
Rachel, 41, with a top job in publishing says, ‘Sometimes I get so angry, because I know I created this situation. Ten years ago, I never imagined what being single at my age would look like. I didn’t think that there wouldn’t be as many available men now. Sex And The City was wrong.’
It sounds like a cliché, but all the women I speak to bring up the same TV show – one to which I, too, was devoted. That trailblazing work of televisual brilliance sold us the idea that we were the first generation of career women for whom living a cosmopolitan-swigging life, clacking about in Manolos chasing men, unencumbered by a husband and children, was a desirable and real alternative. (Of course, though, by the end, three out of the four had settled down with Mr Right.)
And now, guess what? The original Carrie Bradshaw, Candace Bushnell – whose newspaper columns the hit show was based on – recently revealed at the age of 60 that her perspective on her lifestyle has shifted. ‘When I was in my thirties and forties, I didn’t think about it. Then when I got divorced and I was in my fifties, I started to see the impact of not having children and of truly being alone,’ she told The Sunday Times last month. ‘I don’t want to be shot down, but now I do see that people with children have an anchor in a way that people who have no kids don’t.’
She’s right. And I am lucky, I still have time. But if it doesn’t happen, I don’t want ‘career girl’ to be the label society pushes on me to explain my status – for no matter how far we think we’ve come, single prejudice is still rife, from daily headlines to loved ones’ conversational slip-ups.
In fact, I’d argue our role models for single women haven’t moved on either – in fact, they’ve regressed. For as much as I herald the genius of Phoebe Wallerbridge, I felt that Fleabag was far more unhinged than Bridget or Samantha Jones. She doesn’t even have a name, for goodness sake! She’s an embodiment of society’s fears of the single woman, all wrapped up in a revealing jumpsuit, some red lippy and a waft of Marlboro Lights (because only single, childless women would be so irresponsible as to smoke in 2019). Yes, she eventually comes to terms with being on her own, but what about her previous impassioned – and devastating – confessional about desperately desiring someone to share her life with?
Of course, I’m aware that both these shows are fictional. And I also appreciate that many women feel quite differently – Candace herself says she is ‘very fulfilled without children’. Equally, no life choice can guarantee a happy ever after (something Candace’s new book acknowledges with typical pragmatism, as she notes that she and her single friends are more financially secure than peers who gave up careers for marriages that later failed). I realise there is a downside to prioritising any aspect of your life to the exclusion of the rest. And, thanks to a brilliant therapist, I’m now more at peace with my single status than I was at 35.
But if I had one piece of advice for my 25-year-old self, it would be to find some balance – pursue the career, but not at the cost of all else. And don’t spend so much time watching Sex And The City. What’s your perspective? Email feedback@ graziamagazine.co.uk to let us know