blog entry

Sex is So Good!

Kim Sisto Robinson

 

 

 

“Sex and the City” fulfills, brings pleasure, and gives women everything they desire except the real thing. This is the reason the TV series worked, and the reason the movie kicked ass, as well.  The clothes. Must I explain myself?  The Vera Wang’s, Blahnik’s, Choo’s, Prada’s, Fendi’s, and Dior’s are enough to give a girl an orgasm.  I mean, watching Carrie model all of those wedding gowns caused my girlfriends and I to ooohand ahhh and shudder in our seats. My friend Mary, screamed, “That’s the one I want! That’s it!”  It didn’t matter a damn; every woman in the theatre was living vicariously through Carrie Bradshaw, and we were not ashamed to show it.

 

 

 

Don’t get me wrong; it’s not all about the clothes or the Choo’s.  What females are especially attracted to is the relationship between the women: Miranda, Carrie, Samantha, and Charlotte.  For example, when Carrie goes through a depression after her split from Big, they are all there; feeding her, serving her, allowing her to grieve.  There is never judgement or “I told ya so’s.”  There is only unconditional love.

 

 

 At one point Samantha spoon-feeds Carrie, as she is too weak to pick up a fork.  To me, this act of kindness epitomizes the relationships of the women.

 

One of my favorite scenes is in the restaurant when the girls, of course, are talking about our favorite topic, SEX.  Because Charlotte’s daughter is present, they change the word to COLORING.  Samantha says, “Well, I would color every day of the week.  And not only that, but Iwould use every single crayon in box.”  Carrie, in her typical witty sass, responds, “Okay, we get it.  You like coloring!”

 

 

Yea, you could say the movie delivers.  And the coloring is nice, too, a few nice butts and unique crayon shades.  The stunningly gorgeous man living next to Samantha even shows his you-know-what.  When her naughty dog runs away onto his deck, he happens to be taking a shower outside.  What a pleasant coincidence.  Samantha being all flustered and horny exclaims, “Oh, I am so sorry my dog ran up your dick.”   The theater went mad with laughter.

 

 

Uptown girls.  Bold, raw, uninhibited sex. Vera Wang wedding gowns. New York fashion week.  Oh, and the Choo’s.  We all love the Choo’s.  One pair is never enough.  The viewer gets all of them…all of the crayons in the box, every single color and shade. She feels as if she is wrapped in silk, chiffon, and clicking her stilettos at a Channel fashion show.

 

 

No, ‘Sex’ will not win an academy award or be shown at Cannes, but who gives a damn.  Sex brings pleasure and some sort of strange fulfillment to millions of females, some sort of Freudian completion. When Miranda, Carrie, Samantha, and Charlotte end the film laughing, talking, and sipping their pink cosmopolitans, we want to be at the club sipping, too; we want to call all of our girlfriends together, put on our shortest skirts, spray the hell out of our hair, wear our highest heels, and line our lips in the deepest red.  This is what we want sometimes.  And when we can’t do it because of kids, husbands and jobs, we simply watch “Sexand the City,”  honey.