The Sex and the City Movie left me slightly depressed. No, not because the movie made me all mushy and introspective, wondering when I am going to find my Steve, Harry, Big or Smith. That sentiment wasn’t even a blip on my radar.
Rather, the SATC movie left me depressed for admittedly superficial reasons. Forget Freuds Penis Envy — the SATC Movie left me with major, MAJOR bag, clothes, and shoe envy. I felt like having a tantrum circa 1983 (But mom I waaaaant it!!!!!).
I am not exaggerating when I say that I was salivating at the sight of Miranda’s Norma Kamali Swim-suit and Carrie’s 5,000 pairs of Manolo’s and Louboutins. Suddenly my flip flops and white terry zip-up made me feel like a hot-mess.
Maybe I should have dressed up for the movie (I say this now with extreme sarcasm, because I still think movies go hand in hand with sweatpants and popcorn; not patent leather pumps and thigh highs). But when the movie was over, I had an itch to go home, freshen up and put on my best Carrie Bradshaw imitation. Read More »






Apologies to your imagination
It happens to the best of us. Midnight strikes, and you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your feet. A voice whispers savagely in your ear, “What the hell are you wearing?! You look like Sarah Jessica Parker’s closet threw up on you. Are those, leg warmers? Oh for godsake.” You turn and nobody is there. Yeah, it’s one of those nights.
• Thanks to Juno, the