Letters to Fictional TV Characters

Dear Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte from Sex and the City,

I remember meeting you girls when you were still on HBO back in the Paleozoic Era, and thinking that you were the bee’s knees. Bright, funny and quick-witted, you served as great representations of femininity and proved that women over the age of thirty weren’t irrelevant.

Ever since you’ve been featured on TBS and starred in the Sex and the City movies though, your essence has gotten kind of fucked up. Instead of appealing to just women and gay men, 13-year-old girls from Ohio are emulating your frank sex talk at the local Applebees with their friends and it’s kind of frightening. Everyone wants to be a Samantha even if, deep down, they’re just a Charlotte, and no one wants to be a Miranda because she’s only regular pretty, super smart, and Cynthia Nixon’s a lesbian!

Let’s start over, okay? Let’s forget the movies ever happened and go back to the days when you just existed on cable. Carrie, you were so likable back then. Sure, your lifestyle was still unrealistic for someone whose sole income came from a weekly column in a syndicated newspaper, but at least you were relatable! Everything wasn’t so focused on consumerism and having loads of stuff. There were always frilly bowed surfaces, but underneath them was depth. So let’s just forgive and forget, shall we?


A Fan Who’s Ready To Move Forward If You Are

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