Color Me Carrie: Sex And The City 2

It was as though Carrie Bradshaw herself graced us with the gift of good fashion. When I attended the Sex and The City 2 preview, women were coiffed, manicured and dolled up in preparation for the anticipated fashion-to-film event of the year. We bustled to our seats, teetering in our stilettos with high hopes and popcorn. A buzz was about us New York City gals; regardless of our expectations, we had gathered together in harmony.

I admit that I was skeptical. I assumed the sequel would be forced and sorely disappointing, though I was rooting for more. The first movie left me exhausted from the emotional roller coaster plot and I wasn’t expecting any epiphanies regarding Samantha’s sex life. But alas, the first ten minutes dissolved my hard feelings. I won’t spoil the fun, but I’ll tell you that I love a good dance scene.

In juxtaposition to the negative buzz I’ve heard about the film, I found it rather refreshing. It resembled the former 30-minute segments in hilarity and outlandishness, and to question those with foul opinions: what did you expect? It’s Sex and The City. Its very nature is outrageous and unrealistic. Its DNA is made of all things girly, fabulous and never-in-a-million-years-does-anyone-actually-live-that-way excitement.

I thought the sequel revealed several layers, touching on the trials of womanhood regarding becoming a new wife, mother and professional. Of course there was your token zinger and a few predictable one-liners. But again ... what did you expect? I personally love the fantasy of living a lavish, exotic, world traveling, Manolo existence in my 30's. No matter how out of reach it may be. SATC is the female's Die Hard. A girl’s allowed to dream, isn’t she?