Carrie and her love conquests take you on a special romantic journey that as a New Yorker, it would be so hard to not find even a little bit fascinating
When I first started watching Sex and the City, it was the biggest rage in town – I was only a teenager, and the plotline of the HBO drama seemed half-baked to a kid entirely brought up on a diet of the eighties and the nineties, for television, singularly. The title of the show seemed to suggest a whole lot of men, sex and life in a metropolitan – slightly ambiguous! But as with all kinds of dramas on HBO, quite soon at the heels of the show premiering, I felt like I was somehow missing out on watching an aspect of quality television every now and then. So, began my somewhat “eclectic journey” in learning more about “Carrie Bradshaw” and her romantic conquests. I didn’t know that was what I had to expect at first from the show, but a couple of episodes into it, made me certain that this was definitely less of Dynasty, and more of Will & Grace, except bolder and very candid about intimacy and love.
Carrie is popularly a turn-off to average New Yorkers, and this is in part because of how she is in love. Clingy and clueless, Carrie isn’t a very good friend, she is almost always near-broke, and has one troubled relationship after another. Carrie puts her whole faith in life in the shoes she wears, and the dresses that pile up in her closet. But when it comes to romances, I am so seriously going to simply go ahead and express it finely: I have never laid sight on a more repulsing array of the male species (and I am not just going on about their looks – dear God!). Bill Kelley, one of Carrie’s love conquests, for example, is a man who chases her until she romantically obliges. As an up-and-coming politician from Staten Island, Carrie warms to Kelley and becomes ‘the girlfriend of a politician’, even though (proudly!) she isn’t very well-versed in politics herself but soon because of her man’s bedroom habits, she is forced to ditch him. But all is not lost on the intelligence-front for Carrie, though, or so you would think, because one of her many “soulmates”, was also a man named Jack Berger.
Berger and Carrie, on Sex and the City, are a sight for sore eyes, as a tongue-in-cheek twosome: both are writers and ponder a whole lot about romance (in their writing). To Carrie, Berger is charming, tangy and has fantastic eyebrows, but then he cannot manage to reciprocate the same level of feelings for her, often demonstrating both insecurity and an erratic frame of mind, whilst the two are dating. So, then the couple, as often happens for relationships, break up. I found this conquest mode that Carrie is in, for pretty much the whole of the show, when she is not going on about her favourite fashion items off my personal favourite labels, such as Alexander McQueen, very interesting because it manages to break a whole lot of stereotypes that Manhattan might have for women in the 21st Century. Carrie, as the protagonist, doesn’t really care that she is breaking all kinds of rules in the romance department of her life, because she seems to have had such an absurdly-full love life, of her own.
Carrie’s biggest love conquest (aside from the man that Carrie in Sex and the City quite obviously, plainly NEEDS to belong with, “Mr. Big”), you-will-not-believe was actually a pompous prune, also known as “The Russian”. Aleksander Petrovsky, was Carrie’s everything: he could afford to take her out to dinners and for Petrovsky, she even quit her beloved job as a writer, and left all of her friends in New York, and moved house to Paris, because that is just what her boyfriend desperately wanted. Petrovsky is e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. to Carrie but to the artist, his art is more important. In Sex and the City, this boyfriend of hers is more…how-should-I-put-it, completely alright with his ex-wife and his girlfriend being in the same room for his art exhibition, so the enamoured state, with Petrovsky, for numerous new kind of experiences, like them, lasts for a very long time for Carrie. And I thought the bagels in Paris were all that was ever really worth it in the town!