As a perpetually broke and single sixteen year old girl living in Boring, Middle America, it's become kind of ridiculous exactly how much I love, follow, and am influenced by Sex and the City. Yeah. Sex and the freaking City. My DVR is essentially a shrine to a group of middle aged women who shop high-fashion, live fabulously, and move around an assortment of expensive cafes talking about their love lives. It'ssogood.
But the clothes! The shoes. The hair (Carrie Bradshaw curls, why aren't you mine?). So, yeah, maybe it's customary to scoff mockingly at all of the 90's disaster outfits (purple bandanna and a blue fedora. 'nuff said.) but secretly we all want to start going to church just to have a reason to buy a hat that perfect.
To Carrie's brilliant use of fur-over-pajama's, to Samantha's low cuts, Miranda's lesbi-lovely suits, to Charlotte's ever-so elegant demure vibes, S&TC is fearlessly aesthetically pleasing, but actually pay attention to the plot at your own risk.
written by miranda
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