WHERE’S THE SEX IN THIS CITY?

I’m going to go out on a limb here and just say it: I think the Sex and the City reboot is jinxed.

Hear me out: first, Kim Cattrall (Samantha) refused to do a third movie and publicly slammed SJP. Second: Willie Garson (Carrie’s gay best friend Stanford) died in real life halfway through filming. And third: after the first episode aired, several women accused Chris Noth (Mr Big) of sexual assault, which he’s denied. If this isn’t a cursed series, I don’t know what is.

What I DO know is And Just Like That... isn’t the loads of laughs I hoped it would be. Mildly amusing at best, it’s like bumping into a group of girls you used to go to dance parties with back in the day and now, just like that, real life with all its ups, downs and tragedies has pinched them of their breezy joy, and maybe even their sex lives.

Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying the series immensely! There’s no-one I’d rather spend time with than Carrie Bradshaw (I only wish Samantha Jones felt the same way – meow meow meow!). I still love her fashion sense, her ginormous shoe collection, even the way she sometimes acts as if the world revolves around only her – I love it!

But there are times I feel as if I’ve never met this woman and her posse of pals: Miranda, downing drinks and questioning her sexuality; Charlotte, sillier and more one-dimensional than she ever was; and Carrie, suddenly uptight when it to comes to talking about sex!

Wait – I just had a brilliant idea: I’m going to pretend that I used to be very close with these girls BEFORE I moved overseas for 10 years.

People change, right? How could I honestly expect them to have stayed the same? And now that I think about it – maybe I’m the one who’s changed? Naw. I’m exactly the same as I’ve always been because Charlotte and I see the same Park Avenue doctor for our touch-ups!

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