When Dirt cries…
There wouldn’t normally be a note from the author in Dirt, yet there are times in life when dialogue is necessary for healing.
Some seven years ago, a little-cable-show-that-could, Sex and the City, graced the airwaves with a new breed of frank and enlightened insights on sex, love, life and incredible shoes.
This Sunday, Feb. 29, marks the end of these insights. The end of Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte. The four femmes, prototypes of every woman in a sense, have captivated us with their charm and style for seven seasons, leaving no shoebox unturned when it came to answering tough questions and accessorizing the most outlandish outfits from iconic show-stylist Pat Fields.
The writers and creators, most notably producer Michael Patrick King, executive producer/consultant Darren Star and writer Cindy Chupak, spun epic tales in fluffy, half-hour segments every Sunday with intelligence and wit in mind and viewer-worship in heart.
The captain of the S.S. Sex, Sarah Jessica Parker, reveled each week in the intricate beauty of main character Carrie Bradshaw, a feisty fashionista guiding us through the social facets of Manhattan. The role gave Parker the acclaim and stardom the Hollywood vet has deserved for so long.
Her three counterparts redefined supporting cast. Kim Cattrall as sexpot Samantha showed us for the first time, on television, that sexual appetite can accompany both depth and great taste.
The show’s distinct blend of cynicism, sex and humor consistently untie in Cynthia Nixon’s flawless portrayal of Miranda, our guiltiest pleasure or toughest critic on any given week.
Kristen Davis as pollyanna Charlotte embodied optimism and old-fashioned fervor for the “total package,” but wasn’t afraid to give her Burberry trench coat an edge with single-gal neurosis.
This Sunday is the climax to the eight consecutive episodes that marked the last season, as Carrie faces the biggest dilemma of her life.
After nearly two decades of column deadlines, maxed out credit cards and disastrous love hangovers, is it time to stop observing sex and the city and begin living the potential love of her life?
Russian ballet-master Mikhail Baryshnikov stars as Aleksandr Petrovsky, the celebrated artist that sweeps Carrie off her feet supplying a romance much bigger than Mr. Big (Chris Noth).
With Miranda in Brooklyn with husband and baby, Charlotte on Park Avenue living out an Elizabeth Taylor prophecy (yenta hubby and puppy in tow) and Samantha surviving breast cancer with a heartthrob boy-toy, Carrie stares her future in the face.
An invitation to live in Paris tempts her to leave the world she’s built in Manhattan – leaving her friends and career in the balance – for the chance at real love and companionship.
But will trademark cynicism and self-doubt keep her from happiness?
Answers aside, this show is a unique slice of modern art that has challenged our perceptions and skewed our jaded views on relationships.
According to Sex and the City’s producers, stars and parent HBO, sex this good can’t last forever…but hell if it wasn’t the best we’d had.
Matt Donnelly can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org