A friend of mine (I use the word friend with a suitable level of contempt - you know who you are) commented yesterday that my new blog was a bit like a gay Carrie Bradshaw, and that I could end up really rich and somebody would make a TV programme about me.
Excuse me for a moment...
5.....4.....3.....2.....1.......and breathe.......and calm........find your safe place.......focus on the safe place.........safe place......
...Apologies, I was just feeling the urge to randomly slaughter the next person to tell me that Sex and the City 2 is anything more than a last-ditch desperate attempt to milk some revenue out of what was a ground breaking TV series 10 years ago - but in today's post-recession climate could not be any more inappropriate. And no, it's not escapism or liberating. Fetishising Manolos does not make you liberated, finally owning an apartment with a walk-in wardrobe (which incidentally you had to marry a rich ugly bloke to buy for you) is not liberated.
I'm proud to say that I haven't actually been to see SATC2. "Gasp, then how can you hate it?" I hear you bleat in that annoying whining little voice. Well, presumably due to the way that every TV channel and newspaper has been falling over itself to cheaply fill up some airtime by fawning over the film (" ooh, Carrie in a dress, guffaw, the girls are in a DESERT IN HEELS) - or running an easy space filling 'inspired by' feature - yes, even The Guardian is guilty, is nowhere safe?
And that's before you have every sad twat of a brand marketing manager (I am one, therefore I can say that) desperately trying to align their product with SATC2 in a misguided attempt to look 'down with the girls' - Hewlett Packard and Boots step forward. In my opinion Tena Lady and that stuff that makes your poo less-hard missed a trick.
To respond to the original likening of myself to a gay Carrie Bradshaw - wrong on SO many levels (but not as many levels of wrongness as the film itself).
2. Carrie Bradshaw IS NOT A REAL PERSON - I'm so sorry to have to break that to you people. She is a fictional character, a journalist writing one article a week for the local paper would not actually make enough to live in an apartment in Manhattan, and dress in fabulous vintage and designer outfits, and spend every evening drinking cocktails. Hence, my blog rantings are never going to keep me in Sauvignon and crisps.
3. I may like a bit of shopping in Hennes, but if I ever turn into the sort of fatuous, utterly materialistic, grabbing Stepford Wife reject that 'the girls' aspire to, somebody SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD.
Finally, from what I have picked up from the reviews, one of the defining moments of the film is 'the girls' managing to 'liberate' those poor, oppressed Middle Eastern women from wearing burkhas, and restyling them in vintage Halston.
Jesus FC, you gotta love those Americans.
My tummy hurts I'm laughing so much... I'll donate a large glass of sauvignon and a packet of ready salted if you carry on writing this stuff! x
ReplyDeleteHa ha thanks Lucy - yours is the first comment from someone that I don't know (i.e. I have not had to bribe/otherwise coerce you into leaving a comment).
ReplyDeleteOut of interest (and because I am still getting to grips with this blogging lark) how did you find my page?
Mx
Didn't En Vogue pioneer the whole 4 women abreast strutty thing. They would strut at you from the front, perfectly synchonised. Then with a key change (or new chorus) they would strut in formation at a 45 degree angle to the viewer across the screen, heads turned to us as if we're some Soviet leader in red square and En Vogue are our goosestepping red army. Eyes Right and sing 'No You'll Never Gonna Get It.' You'll never see En Vogue lower themselves to the level of SJP. Plus have you seen what's she done to Ferris Bueller!!?
ReplyDeleteLoving the Blog GOG. X