Sex and the city nostalgia and big life choices at 35

Is it impossible to have it all? Or is the key that we can have it all, just not all at once?

Lately, I’ve found myself deep in a Sex and the City nostalgia vortex, reanalyzing Carrie Bradshaw’s life choices through the lens of my now 35-year-old, hopefully wiser, eyes. And let me tell you, it’s been quite the education.

I’ve been romanticising and fantasising the whole thing—the dreamy apartment she keeps as a sanctuary even after moving in with Mr. Big at the end of Season 6, the sound of her fingers clacking away at a keyboard as the city noises alight outside her West Village window, and the way she ponders life’s big questions when it comes to matters of the heart, puffing away on a cigarette. And let’s not forget the wardrobe to die for—an aspirational thirty-something life funded by a columnist’s wages. I know it’s just a TV show, not real life, but it feels almost touchable, almost attainable. Perhaps I resonate with Carrie more now than ever.

Then, I stumbled across a post that suggested Carrie might be a bit of a narcissist who only cares about her own problems and now, I can’t unsee it. And worse, it’s got me wondering… am I a bit of a narcissist too?!