And just like that, political correctness killed sex and the city
We’ve all been Carrie at some point, with our money put “where I can control it, hanging in my closet”, a bunch of shoes and a broken heart; hanging out with the city when there was no one else there, or being underpaid but writing stuff we loved.
Please, if you can, give us back the Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte of yesterday, matured from the joints of life but still with a sparkle. These spiritual friends, politically incorrect but human. Give us back the mistakes, the failures, the jokes, the gossip (maybe not the cosmopolitans, I hate that). Give us back the audacity of (almost) youth – theirs and ours. I wouldn’t want these three boring (and not so well dressed) “adult” women as friends to save my life right now. And frankly, once the dedicated and cathartic tears over how they (and we) were dried, I can’t help but wonder: what is the ultimate meaning of such an operation?
(Francesca Marino is a South Asian journalist and expert who wrote ‘Apocalypse Pakistan’ with B Natale. His latest book is ‘Balochistan – bruised, beaten and bloodied‘. She tweets @ francescam63. This is an opinion piece and the opinions expressed are those of the author. The quintet does not endorse or be responsible for its reported opinions.)