The Vulture site has one of those articles that points out that a popular television show is unrealistic. This is not only not news—why and how did Mrs. Howell pack all those gowns for a three-hour tour and how did the friends on Friends get such cool apartments in NYC with no money—it's also stupid; expecting television to be realistic is like expecting dessert to be nutritious. It's meant to divert and amuse.
There is one good point in the piece. It's made by accident.
There is one good point in the piece. It's made by accident.
It's become one of those cornerstones of our pop-culture vocabulary: We label our friends — the Miranda, the Charlotte, the Samantha — while convincing ourselves that we are obviously the Carrie of the group. It’s been more than ten years since Sex and the City went off the air, and we’re still binge-watching, quoting, reliving, reminiscing, and continuing the eternal Mr. Big/Aiden debate.
Here's the thing, if it is painfully obvious to you that you are the star and that your friends are the supporting characters, you are a narcissist.
Everything about the show is designed to appeal to narcissists.
BTW: Ask any man which SATC character is least appealing to him and the odds are he'll pick Carrie. Not that that is judging her by any terribly high standard; none of the SATC principals are exactly relationship material, a fact that the show implicitly acknowledges but that it's narcissistic fans are in deep denial about.
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