Sex and the City: The Phenomenon

When the time came for the premiere episode to air, the timing was perfect.  

On June 6, 1998--fittingly on the cusp of one long, hot summer--HBO premiered a little show called “Sex and the City,” and just look at how it grew up.

On Friday, the eagerly anticipated movie version hits theaters, and with it comes hopes that it will satisfy all those fans who wished this sharp, raw, enormously funny series never had ended its run four years ago.


It wasn’t only the inclusion of all those Manolos, cosmos, bedroom gizmos or the tantalizing promise implied in the show’s title, though the producers certainly came through with plenty of each.

Mostly, it was the truthful, sophisticated approach to the material; the satisfying writing; Darren Star, Candace Bushnell and Michael Patrick King’s indefatigable wit; the show’s ability to spot trends and set them; the lively acting; and of course, those characters. In the end, it always comes down to the characters, and this show had some of the best characters series television ever has seen.

In fact, the show had five main characters--New York City being one, and the four single best friends who lived there being the others. The latter group--Sarah Jessica Parker’s Carrie Bradshaw, Kim Cattrall’s Samantha Jones, Kristin Davis’ Charlotte York and Cynthia Nixon’s Miranda Hobbes--each faced a significant challenge. What did it mean to be a single woman in the very city where, some 30 years earlier, women were busy burning their bras for women’s rights?

The fact that each character tackled that question differently was a major part of the show’s appeal. These women--all approaching middle-age, which they redefined through attitude, outlook, good looks and fashion--were the new feminists.


Fueling the show’s popularity weren’t just women. Also helping to turn it into the juggernaut it became were gay and straight men alike. Each took something from it.

For gay men, the bawdy humor and broad performances helped, sure, but just as important was how they could connect to the isolation each woman felt for being considered second-rate citizens in a straight, white, male-driven society. They could relate to Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda’s struggles because they also knew the sort of mettle it took to rise up and be counted. For straight men, let’s just say this show offered a swell primer on how to deal with women at the end of the 20th century and into the 21st century. And for that, they were handsomely rewarded.

Finally, one other element must be noted for the reason the series flourished the way it did, and that’s because it ran on HBO, which allowed these women to fully express themselves--often all of themselves, whether physically or verbally--without a trace of censorship. If this show had somehow had the misfortune of appearing first on network television--it now runs on cable’s TNT in edited reruns--the effect would have been disastrous.

Imagine the idea of a toned-down, family-friendly Samantha, and you get the idea. The balance would have been tipped against the truth of who these women were, their impact would have been lost, and with it, the phenomenon they created.

That didn’t happen, and we’re all better for it.