Through The Fire
Fun to be Female
By Sharon Yamato
Saturday, June 7, 2008

Shoes at a Sex and the City party.

I like to think of myself as not suc­cumbing to such frivolous pursuits as watching “American Idol” or reading People Magazine, but when it comes to the lives of these four fictional charac­ters, I am a zealot. There’s no fashion statement I wouldn’t covet or gossip I wouldn’t spread as it relates to these fantastic (as in fantasy-like) women. Sadly, I’m in the wrong demographic. Although Samantha is turning 50, I’m almost a decade older—an age where attracting men has become a faint memory. I’m now officially invisible –just a “ma’m” to those men for whom I once thought I had a slim (very slim) chance of getting their attention.

For me, “Sex and the City” is not about the sex. In fact, it’s uncomfortable to watch the explicit sex scenes, not to mention hearing the salacious dialogue (however shockingly refreshing it was to hear on TV). Much as I hate to admit it, I was going to the movie to analyze my favorite characters in the TV series—the clothes and the shoes. The oversized floral broaches, the stiletto heels, the flamboyant jackets, the bouffant skirts, the baubly jewelry and spectacular hand­bags—all in combinations I would die for but never dare to wear myself (outfits that one reviewer aptly described as “fabulous and ghastly”). In fact, cleav­age was an essential ingredient in many of the outfits. A near impossibility for me (and most other Asian women, I would dare to add). High-heeled shoes are much more within my reach. Un­accustomed as I am to wearing them, I figured this was a party that required stilettos. The girls did not disappoint, even though no one else seemed to have the trouble falling forward in them as I did (I was the only one there who brought a pair of Crocs to get from the parking lot to the theater).

Even though every woman might want a Mr. Big in her life, for me “Sex and the City” is also not about the men. I personally found Mr. Big a weasel and Samantha’s latest plaything a bore (albeit fun to look at). Neither Miran­da’s or Charlotte’s husbands interested me much. No, “Sex and the City” is about the women. Perhaps that is why it has attracted every woman from the 20-year-old coed to the 30-year-old mom, the 45-year-old office worker to the 50-year-old breast cancer survivor. Women of all colors and nationalities, I may add, as I looked around at the audience at the Bridge. Take away the men, the Cosmos and the Manolo Blahnik shoes, and the series is really about the relationships between four women who would do just about any­thing for each other.
Perhaps those female relationships, like the clothes, are every woman’s fantasy, but I would like to think that my best girlfriends would always be there as solid shoulders to cry on or warm hearts to share. When watching the interaction of these loving friends, I am reminded that the first time my heart was broken by a man, I called a friend in New York, who quickly offered to pay for a round-trip ticket so that she could comfort me through the tough first days of the break-up. Funny how things come around: tomorrow I leave to spend three days with her to help her look for a new apartment because she has decided to end her marriage after 35 years.

Carrying on the spirit of the TV series, the movie portrayed Carrie, Mi­randa, Samantha and Charlotte always showing up at the right time—to save a lonely New Year’s Eve, to bring Chi­nese food when something goes wrong, to fly cross country at the drop of a hat to share in good news, or just to be a comforting voice on the other end of the phone. They are friends who argue but never stop talking to each other. They don’t hesitate to tell one another the truth, even if it hurts.

Life is not nearly as pat as it in the movie, and the TV series did more for me in portraying the day-to-day lives of women on their own. The perfect bow tie at the end of the movie was a little too unrealistic even for this fan­tasy-seeking devotee. But I look at the friends I have in my life that share the elusive bonds that only women know. Those kinds of friends are hopefully not out of reach—even though the clothes, jewelry and men may be. The gener­ous and warm spirit of girl friendships is what makes “Sex and the City” go beyond the frivolous. It’s about the women friends who stay—even when the men move on.
===
Sharon Yamato writes from Playa del Rey and can be reached at syama­to@ca.rr.com. The opinions expressed in this column are not necessarily those of The Rafu Shimpo.