"Sex in the City" was a joyful movie to see on a night when I really needed to laugh.
Some of my friends in the St. Louis Chapter of Mocha Moms, Inc. organized a fierce girls-night-out. The evening was to include dinner-movie-dancing. I made it to the movie - courtesy of my husband's always late from work tendencies - and gave up on dancing since it was storming.
All that aside, it was nice to be dressed up and able to relax for a 2 1/2 hour journey into the world of Jimmy Choo, Louis Vuitton, and Manalo Blatnik. The New York mavens of the HBO series fame were delightful - even for those of us who hadn't watched the antics of Carrie Bradshaw, Mr. Big, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte.
The movie gave me a reason to laugh until tears came to my eyes. I had moments of collective estrogen recognition as the entire theatre in the Galleria Mall released a collective "ah" at the site of the Penthouse closet! We all understood the female need for more space! There were other moments of shared knowledge - even with the perfect strangers who sat beside me. We understood and secretly relished something just for us.
I had to close my eyes as few times at Samantha having her own private porn viewing of her next-door-neighbors. Her antics were legendary to SITC Fans. It was something to smile about though, an almost fifty woman still delighting in her sexuality.
Many of the women could identify with Carrie Bradshaw's excitement of finally marrying the love of her life at forty. Others could sense the inner turmoil of Miranda, the corporate lawyer with the Nanny and husband she hadn't slept with in six months. Some of us smiled at the fairy-tale life of sweet Charlotte with her perfect family, happy life, and joyful ending. All of us reminisced about young life with the refreshing character, Saint Louise from St. Louis. Jennifer Hudson was a wonderful addition to the original all-white cast. She added some flava and that was just what a few Mocha Moms needed!
This was opening weekend and I'm sure there were many Sex in the City parties planned. The reviewers on NPR alternated from telling the men to know it was just a chick flick to coming up with schemes on how to get out of going. One mentioned the recession and the shallowness of all the shopping and emphasis on consumption. Most women, in New York or elsewhere, probably don't wear $525 robin's egg blue Manalo Blatnik shoes with diamond buckles, but most women can identify with the escape.
The movie was delightful not just for all the fashions and the Carrie Bradshaw characters ever-changing wardrobe of shoes and purses, but for it's celebration of femininity and friendship. These four women had grown together as adults. They held each other during rough moments, they traveled across New York City in high-heeled white boots so one wouldn't be alone on New Year's Day. The movie celebrated the joy of being friends with someone who knew all your flaws and still loved you, who knew your dreams and supported you, who laughed with you, who cried with you, and who knew when to fly you to Mexico to heal your heart.
A perfect night unfolded for me after a day of chasing two daughters, preparing a picnic lunch, snapping at my husband, and stubbing my toe on yet another toy. I dressed up, put on my pink pearls and high heels and went out. I wasn't a mom or a wife or even a writer, I was a woman out with my cast of girlfriends. It was a fun night. We all should have such a moment.