When I have a brand new hairdo...

So last Friday, I went to see 'Sex and the City' with the girls. (cause who else in their right mind would I go to see that with? Nim?) , but I had to face a couple of trials to do so. Let me preface this with...

During her concert on Sunday, the amazing and talented Audra McDonald introduced me to the idea of 'quick karma'-where your guardian angel is so on top of their job-the second you start getting cocky or ahead of yourself; he or she knocks you right on your head to let you know they're watching. Like Ms. McDonald, I too have quick karma. The second I start to think that, I'm, you know...not so bad, my guardian angel will make me fall over a curb or something. It's that fast people. (I'll talk more about the fabulous concert later on this week)

So, in case anyone is wondering, I didn't play hooky from work. I did ask to leave early citing the fact that I had an 'appointment'. Quite honestly, I wasn't doing very much last week anyway and I didn't take any pay for the two hours I missed. So I feel like it was a fair trade. They didn't have to pay me for work that I wasn't going to do. Forreals. But 'quick karma' is quite a snarky bastard and I got stuck at my station for 30 minutes...

Because the Bart police were chasing some criminal through the Lafayette tunnel and they had to turn the power off on the grid or they would all get electrocuted.

I couldn't make this shit up if I tried people. So instead of being 30-40 min. early like I planned, I was instead, roughly 10 minutes late. Quick karma at work. Thankfully, I found the girls right around the 3rd or 4th trailer, so no call no foul. Now, let's talk about SATC. When the series was out, I didn't have access to HBO and the reruns on TNT leave out some of the more explicit material. So by the time I actually started watching episodes, they seemed to be pale replicas of the original intent of the series-which was to put to the forefront, the successful, smart and attractive women of New York City loving their lives and looking for love. The stereotypes have oft been ridiculed by different series (My Boys-I think being the latest): the hyper-sexed alpha female, the 50s housewife traditionalist, the uber-feminist attorney and the quirky, non-comittal but fashionably forward writer. I never got it. I didn't like that they rarely, if ever, had anyone of color included in the cast and how trite the little boxes each of them had to live in became by the end of the series. Fashion forward Carrie would never dream of putting a cream puff past her lips for fear that her dresses wouldn't fit-but boyish, ambitious and stressed out Miranda gained 20+ pounds on her chocolate sex substitutes.

Still...I have to admit the fashion was appealing as hell. Give it up for Patricia Field for introducing the world to Manolo, Choo and Marc Jacobs. I would watch the show more to get outfit ideas than for the plots themselves. I especially respected Carrie's daring sense, but found that Miranda's style suited my own better.

The movie; well, the movie is a different animal altogether. I'll admit it. I laughed, I cried (especially over Kristin Davis' OUTSTANDING Charlotte) and I found myself in the company of great girls doing it. The movie wasn't so much predictable as satisfyingly complete. Every female character on the show made the right decisions for herself and it was a delicious feminist moment to know that every woman in the theater would be a grander, more fabulous self upon leaving. Speaking of, most if not all of the women in the theater were dressed OUT TO Neptune. I saw; a purple fur shrug, an emerald green satin swing dress, jewelry both fake and real, and everywhere, HIGH HEELS HIGH HEELS HIGH HEELS. Sort of gives new meaning to what it is to take your feminine side and OWN it. I went to Octavia that night in sky high heels and a short dress-just to say, I could.

Conclusion: I have a new respect and admiration for SJP and this movie. And a new consideration on what it is to be a woman.