And Just Like That… The Old Magic Was BACK

Vicki Notaro shares her first thoughts on the highly anticipated SATC reboot as it finally lands on TV.

I was worried about the Sex and the City reboot, I’m not going to lie. The show has always meant a lot to me, and the fact that I’m writing this on a Macbook from my bed isn’t lost on me. I wanted to be like Carrie Bradshaw, and now I guess… I kinda am? Albeit in Dublin. And without the designer wardrobe. The point is, it’s always been more than a TV show to me. It’s been an inspiration, an aspiration, a televisual true love. I could write a thesis on SATC, wax lyrical about it for hours, sure I even won a quiz based on it. I’m a Stan. 

But man, I really hated those movies. HATED them. They were everything that was bad about the show – shallow, frivolous, problematic – in feature length, with few redeeming qualities besides nostalgia. They had none of the edge, none of the wryness, none of the good writing (shade). I feared that And Just Like That… (Sky, NOW TV) would be another iteration of the films and lacking all the depth, honesty and emotional punch of the series – and lacking Samantha!

But, guys… it’s really good. Actually good. I was immediately worried when there was no title sequence and a jazzy, movie-esque version of the theme song over the first scene, but my fears were soon assuaged. I want it known though – the font choice for the title is awful. AWFUL. 

That aside, I was soon gripped. Our girls are back, and they are themselves, not phony, caricature versions of themselves as seen on the big screen. It’s like they’re pretending the movies didn’t happen as well, and I’m fine with that. 

This isn’t Sex and the City, and I’m glad – the series was so particular, so of its time, and so much about Carrie and her world. This is something new, something different but also so much the same. It’s about more than just Carrie, more than her column, her experiences. It’s more well-rounded in that way. 

 

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The Samantha issue is addressed immediately, and I have to say, I felt it in my gut. Episode one does a lot of setting things up and ends with a cliffhanger, so I was only thrilled that episode two is also available and whew, it’s even better than the first. Prepare yourself. 

No spoilers here, obviously, but there are little moments in the first episode that I sense are going to become bigger storylines, particularly surrounding Miranda. Charlotte is her adorable self, raising teenagers. Steve has a hearing aid and Brady is testing his boundaries. Harry is the cutest dad. My heart nearly broke when Stanford, played by the late Willie Garson, appeared on screen. And Big. Oh, Mr Big. I was always on his side.

I absolutely loved it. I really didn’t expect to, so I’m extra thrilled and very much in my feelings. Sex and the City spoke to young me in a way that no other show has before or since, and my steady diet of Real Housewives since the pandemic began has been satisfying, but not exactly soul-enriching. This reboot was a brave move. I mean, we could have left it alone, and I thought I wanted them to but now, I’m so glad they didn’t. 

This year feels like a renaissance for those of us in our mid thirties. Britney is free. Paris Hilton is thriving. Lindsay Lohan is making a Netflix Christmas film. Marian Keyes is bringing Rachel back. And now, Carrie is back too. When she was 35, she was a fictional big sister figure. Now, twenty years later, I’m 35 and she’s still here, dealing with a whole new set of issues and life curveballs. I couldn’t be happier about it. 

I know, I’ve only watched two episodes and there are eight to go. But I’m happy and hopeful, and feeling good about the rest of the series, and beyond! So, to the producers – to quote the iconic RuPaul – good luck, and don’t  f**k it up. 

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