If you ever roll up to my house without providing any warning, you’ll find me frolicking among my guilty pleasures: “Sex and the City” or “Miss Fisher’s Murder Mystery” reruns filling up the room, multiple mugs of ice tea strew about, and myself, clad in an animal sweatshirt and the oldest, softest jeans, attempting to clean, write, and bake at once. That’s the way of the Gile’s girls, why do one thing when you can do 11 at once?
My obsession with ‘Sex and the City’ started freshmen year of college, when I would illegally stream all the episodes and binge watch them in the wee hours of the night. I loved everything about it: The clothes, the friendships, and the dream it instilled of what I believed my New York life might someday be.
But sadly for both 18-year-old Carly and current Carly, “Sex and the City” is NOT a truthful guide to the city. For one, it’s never winter on the show. Ever. It goes from spring to fall and then back again. Where is the snow? When is Carrie forced to hang up her Manolo Blahniks and wear snow boots like the rest of us!? How is Charlotte able to afford an apartment on the Upper East Side when she doesn’t have a job? Samantha buys her own apartment and yet, AND YET, she is never at work. I call foul “Sex and the City.”
My roommate and I continue to wonder if there is a true media representation of what life is really like in New York. I figure, we’re much more “Avenue Q” than “Girls,” “The Mindy Project,” or “Friends” because we love puppets (well, half of us do). For us, our lives would be a low, low budget web series that shows two girls, living it up in the city by getting pie at 2 a.m. after having their faces melted off by the wind. Have you ever had your face look like a rare steak and hurt from the inside out?
I have. It’s horrifying.
So if you’re looking for a realistic guide to New York, don’t depend upon Carrie Bradshaw. As much as I adore her, and long for a day when I’ll own an apartment with a walk in closet and an entry way and a living room that isn’t in my kitchen and a full-size bed, I’m also aware that the salary of a weekly columnist would not cover the “Sex and the City” lifestyle. Sorry to be the dream crusher, but if you want some real-life New York insight, this is all I got:
- Snow is beautiful, but with snow will always come yellow snow which sends you right back down to reality. Snow is to New York what rain is to Los Angeles, it’s beautiful when you’re cozy and warm inside, but a gruesome companion when you have to travel anywhere.
- People really do steal your mail. There is nothing more criminal to me than daring to theft someone of a tradition that has withstood time. Don’t touch my mail, don’t even look at my mail you animal!
- Doors are ridiculously heavy so prepare to start looking like an idiot when mid-conversation with your coworker, you have to pause, throw your entire weight into a door, and typically grunt in the process. Consider it your cardio for the day.
- Bagels are the most beautiful thing in the world. Not Chanel as Carrie Bradshaw would like you to believe or Vera Wang wedding dresses according to Charlotte, bagels. BAGELS. They’re there in the good, there in the bad, there in your dreams, and they will always love you.
- When people ask you the temperature, the only response is, “It’s balls cold.” 27 degrees, 16 degrees, two degrees, makes no difference at this point.
- The most romantic thing that anyone could do for you is give you their seat on the subway. I almost proposed to the person who did this. There is no better soul than the subway seat sacraficer. Bless them all.