Sex and the City

What really bugs me about this show is not that it popularized the heinous cosmo, nor that it seems to think that the point of feminism is enabling women, like men, to float in blissful cluelessness on a sea of carefree screwing and infinite privilege, but that it expects me to take Carrie’s cliche-ridden, vapid musings (“Maybe Ray was like jazz, and I needed to stop trying to make him something else and just appreciate him for what he was…”) as witty and salient commentary on contemporary social mores.

In other words, I’m still in England, where arugula is rocket and Pimm’s is a drink. Expect boring travel musings when I come stateside on Wednesday.


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