Max original series Sex And The City concluded February 22, 2004.
#SexandtheCity is now on Netflix.
rottentomatoes: 70%
metacritic: 64
imdb: 7.3
emmys: 7 wins
golden globes: 8 wins
SAG awards: 3 wins
Carrie Bradshaw
Carrie Bradshaw is a columnist writer in New York City, New York.
Outstanding Lead Actress In A Comedy Series
1 win: 2004
Best Television Actress – Musical/Comedy Series
4 wins: 2000, 2001, 2002, 2004
Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Comedy Series
1 win: 2001
“Once upon a time an English journalist came to New York. Elizabeth was attractive and bright, and right away she hooked up with one of the city’s typically eligible bachelors. Tim was forty-two. A well-liked and respected investment banker who made about two million a year. They met one evening in typical New York fashion, at a gallery opening. It was love at first sight. For two weeks they snuggled, went to romantic restaurants… had wonderful sex… and shared the most intimate secrets. One warm spring day he took her to a townhouse he saw in Sunday’s New York Times. When she hadn’t heard from him for two weeks, she called.” — Carrie Bradshaw
“She told me one day over coffee… then I realized, no one had told her about the end of love in Manhattan. Welcome to the age of un-innocence. No one has ‘breakfast at Tiffany’s’ and no one has ‘affairs to remember.’ Instead, we have breakfast at 7:00 a.m. and affairs we try to forget as quickly as possible. Self-protection and closing the deal are paramount. Cupid has flown the co-op. How the hell did we get into this mess? There are thousands, maybe tens of thousands of women like this in the city. We all know them and we all agree they’re great. They travel, they pay taxes, they’ll spend $400 on a pair of Manolo Blahnik strappy sandals, and they’re alone. It’s like the riddle of the Sphinx. Why are there so many great unmarried women and no great unmarried men?” — Carrie Bradshaw
“I explore these sorts of issues in my column and I have terrific sources, my friends. Another thirty-something birthday with a group of unmarried female friends. We would all have preferred a nice celebratory conference call. Samantha Jones was a New York inspiration. A public relations executive, she routinely slept with good-looking guys in their twenties. Drew the sex god. Oh, come on, ladies, are we really that cynical? What about romance? Oh, no. No, no. Believe me, the right guy comes along and you two right here, this whole thing, shew, right out the window. So you think it’s really possible to pull off this whole, um… women having sex like men thing? You’re obsessed with that movie.” — Carrie Bradshaw
“Was it true? Were women in New York really giving up on love and throttling up on power? What a tempting thought. Stanford Blatch was one of my closest friends. He was the owner of a talent agency who at the moment was down to a single client. So are you telling me that you’re in love? Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive? Stanford, he’s and underwear model. It was Kurt Harrington. A mistake I made when I was twenty-six, and twenty-nine… and thirty-one. What, do you think, I’m a masochist? The man is scum. Will you relax? I don’t have a shred of feeling left. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to visit the ladies’ room. It was true, I no longer felt a thing for Kurt. After all these years, I finally saw him for what he was, a self-centered withholding creep, who was still the best sex I ever had in my life. However, I did have a little experiment in mind.” — Carrie Bradshaw
“Kurt… wow, what are you doing here? Thanks. So, how’s life? Oh, you know, just writing the column, the usual. So, you seeing anyone special? Oh, just a couple guys… but you look good though. So, uh… what are you doing later? Who said anything about talking? Alright. See you there. Oh, calm down, it’s research. Oh, God! Oh, Kurt! Kurt was just like I remembered… better. Yes. Oh… because this time there would be none of that messy emotional attachment. Yes. Yes. Oh! Oh, sorry. I have to go back to work. Oh, yeah, completely. But I’ll give you a call? Maybe we can do it again some time?” — Carrie Bradshaw
“As I began tog et dressed, I realized that I’d done it… I’d just had sex like a man. I left feeling powerful, potent, and incredibly alive. I felt like I owned the city. Nothing and no one could get in my way. Number one… … he’s very handsome. Number two: he’s not wearing a wedding ring. Number three: he knows I carry a personal supply of ultra textured Trojans with the reservoir tip. Thanks a lot. Later that night, Skipper Johnston met me for coffee and confessed a shocking intimate secret. Thank you. Really? I don’t understand that, you’re such a nice guy. Are you sure you’re not gay? Pussy? No, they’re too old for you. Maybe. Maybe my friend Miranda. Tomorrow night. We’re all going downtown to this club, Chaos. Mmm.” — Carrie Bradshaw
“Miranda was gonna hate Skipper. She’d think he was mocking her with his sweet nature and decide he was an asshole. The way she had decided all men were assholes. Hello? Hey, sweetie. With who? Did I know him? He was one of the city’s most notoriously un-gettable bachelors. I didn’t want to tell her about my afternoon of cheap and easy sex and how good it felt. Alright, fine. Listen, have a good time, and promise to tell me everything. Alright, bye. Friday night at Chaos. It was just like that bar in Cheers where everybody knows your name, except here, they were likely to forget it five minutes later. Hi. Still, it was the creme de la creme of New York, whipped into a frenzy. Sometimes you got a souffle, sometimes cottage cheese.” — Carrie Bradshaw
“I was about to rescue Skipper from an increasingly hopeless situation when suddenly… hey! Well, I don’t know if you’re going to be getting that lucky. You were? Yeah, right. Sure, I guess. So, whenever I feel like it, I’ll give you a call. Alright. Yup. I didn’t understand, did all men secretly want their women promiscuous and emotionally detached? And if I was really having sex like man, why didn’t I feel more in control? Hi. No, I’ve never seen him in my life. Samantha had the kind of deluded self-confidence that caused men like Ross Perot to run for president. And it usually got her what she wanted. And there she went, off to take her best shot with Mr. Big. Meanwhile, Charlotte York was passing the most splendid evening with Capote Duncan. Though Charlotte was determined to play hard to get, she didn’t want to end the evening too abruptly. Charlotte told me later that she thought she had played the entire evening flawlessly.” — Carrie Bradshaw
“Back at Chaos, things were swinging into high gear and Samantha was putting the moves on Mr. Big. Meanwhile, Skipper Johnston was hopelessly smitten with Miranda Hobbes. Miranda told me later that she thought he was too nice, but that she was willing to overlook one flaw. And Capote Duncan found his fix for the night.” — Carrie Bradshaw
“Taxi! Taxi! And so another Friday night in Manhattan crept towards dawn. Taxi! And just when I thought I would have to do the unspeakable, walk home… 72nd Street, Third Avenue. You mean besides going out every night? Well, this is my work. I’m sort of a sexual anthropologist. No. I, um, I write a column called Sex and the City. Right now I’m researching an article about women who have sex like men. You know, they have sex and then afterwards they feel nothing. Well, aren’t you? Wow, what’s wrong with you? Oh, yeah? Suddenly I felt the wind knocked out of me. I wanted to crawl under the covers and go right to sleep. Thanks for the ride. Wait. Have you ever been in love?” — Carrie Bradshaw
Miranda Hobbes
Outstanding Supporting Actress In A Comedy Series
1 win: 2004
“I have a friend who’d always gone out with extremely sexy guys and just had a good time. One day she woke up and she was forty-one. She couldn’t get any more dates. She had a complete physical breakdown, couldn’t hold on to her job, and had to move back to Wisconsin to live with her mother. Trust me, this is not a story that makes men feel bad.”
“By the time you reach your mid-thirties, you think, why should I settle? You know? I have been out with some of those guys, the short, fat, poor ones. It makes absolutely no difference. They are just as self-centered and unappreciative as the good-looking ones. You were saying? Drew. Yeah, except men in this city fail on both counts. I mean, they don’t want to be in a relationship with you but as soon as you only want them for sex, they don’t like it. All of a sudden, they can’t perform the way they’re supposed to. It’s like that guy, Jeremiah, the poet. I mean, the sex was incredible, but then he wanted to read my his poetry and go out to dinner and the whole chat bit, and I’m like, let’s not even go there. Oh, okay! Linda Fiorentino fucking that guy up against the chain link fence.”
“It is like a model bomb exploded in this room tonight. Is there a woman here aside from me that weighs more than a hundred pounds? That’s funny, Skippy. I have this theory that men secretly hate pretty girls because they feel that they’re the ones who rejected them in high school. Are you saying that I’m not pretty enough? So, ipso facto, I can’t be interesting? Women either fall into one of two categories, beautiful and boring, or homely and interesting? Is that what you’re saying, Skippy? Excuse me, is this your hand on my knee? Alright, let’s keep ’em where I can see ’em, alright? Well, I guess you must find me beautiful… or interesting.”
“Listen, Skippy, you know, you really are a nice, sweet guy, but… goodnight.”
Charlotte York
“Most men are threatened by successful women. If you want to get these guys, you have to keep your mouth shut and play by the rules. It’s like the older we get the more we keep self-selecting down to a smaller and smaller group. You mean with dildos? But are you sure that that isn’t just ’cause he didn’t call you? Yeah! What are you saying? Are you saying you’re just gonna give up on love? That’s sick! That’s right. I hated that movie.”
“Hey, Carrie, it’s Charlotte. Hey, look, I can’t meet you guys for dinner tomorrow night because I have an amazing date. Capote Duncan, he’s supposedly some big shot in the publishing world. Do you know him? Wait, wait. Don’t even answer that question because frankly, I don’t care, and another thing, I’m not buying into any of that women having sex like men crap. Well, if you’re lucky. Bye.”
“I’d love to, but it’s really getting late. Uh… what year was it painted again? Well… maybe just for a minute. This could easily go for a hundred grand. Ross is so hot right now. It’s beautiful. Thank you… for tonight. I had a wonderful time. Mmm. I have to get up really early tomorrow. I’m having dinner with you. Right, uh, West 4th and Bank please. You’re going to Chaos? Why?”
Samantha Jones
Best Supporting Actress – Television
1 win: 2003
“Look… look, if you’re a successful saleswoman in this city, you have two choices. You can bang your head against the wall or you can try and find a relationship, or you can say ‘screw it,’ and just go out and have sex like a man. No. I mean without feeling. Mmm! Remember that guy that I was going out with? Oh, God, what was his name? Drew? Right, well, afterwards, I didn’t feel a thing. It was like, ‘hey, babe, gotta go, catch you later.’ And I completely forgot about him after that. Sweetheart, this is the first time in the history of Manhattan that women have had as much money and power as men, plus the equal luxury of treating men like sex objects. That’s when you dump them. Who needs it? Listen, the right guy is an illusion. You understand that, you can start living your life. You’re forgetting The Last Seduction. And never having one of those, ‘oh, my God, what have I done?’ epiphanies.”
“You see that guy? He’s the next Donald Trump, except he’s younger and much better looking. Do you know him? He usually dates models, but hey, I’m as good-looking as a model, plus I own my own business. Well, if you’re not gonna hit on him, I will.”
“I’ve got this great source that sends me Hondurans. Do you want to try one? Why? You can’t find them anywhere. Look… I do the P.R. for this club… and I have a key to the private room downstairs. You want a private tour?”
“No. Where is it? I want to see the Ross Bleckner. Sure, I have to get up really early too.”
Mr. Big
“Here you go. Any time.”
“I’ve been smoking cigars for years, back when they were terminally uncool. No, thank you. Cohibas… that’s all I smoke. Really? No thanks, but maybe another time.”
“Well, get in for Christ’s sakes. Where can I drop you? You got that, Al? So, what have you been doing lately? Yeah, I mean what do you do for work? You mean, like a hooker? But you’re not like that. Not a drop. Not even half a drop. I get it. You’ve never been in love. Yeah. Any time. Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Skipper Johnston
“I totally believe that love conquers all. Sometimes you just have to give it a little space and that’s exactly what’s missing in Manhattan, the space for romance.”
“Do you know that it has been, like, a year? That’s the problem. You know, I’m too nice, you know? I’m a romantic. I just have so much feeling. No! I’m sensitive and I don’t objectify women. You know, most guys, when they meet a girl, the first thing they see is, um… you know… oh, God! Oh, it hate that word. Don’t you have any friends that you can hook me up with? I like older women. When? Great. Don’t tell her I’m nice.”
“I know, it’s like under-eaters anonymous. Skipper. Right, but if you’re not part of the beauty Olympics, you can still become a very, you know… interesting person. No, no, no, of course you are. No, no, no, no, that’s not what I meant. No.”
“So where we going now? Oh, I understand.”
Stanford Blatch
“You know, I’m beginning to think the only place where one can still find love and romance in New York is the gay community. It’s straight love that’s become closeted. How could I possibly sustain a relationship? You know Derek takes, like, 1000% of my time. Carrie, I’m a passionate person. His career is all I care about. When that’s under control, then I can concentrate on my personal life. With a billboard in Times Square. Oh, my God, don’t turn around. The loathe of your life is at the bar. Carrie, don’t even got there. Good, because I don’t the patience to clean up this mess for the fourth time. Thank God. Carrie! Are you out of your mind? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Kurt Harrington
“Hey, babe. God, you look gorgeous. Not bad, can’t complain. You? Not really… you? So do you. I thought you weren’t talking to me for the rest of your life. What do you say to my place, three o’clock.”
“Alrighty. My turn. What are you kidding? You serious? But…”
“Hey! Lucky me, twice in one week. You know, I was really pissed off the way you left the other day. Yeah. And I thought, ‘how great!’ You finally understand the kind of relationship I really want, and now we can have sex without commitment. Yeah, please. I mean, whenever you feel like it. If I’m alone, I’m all yours. I like this new you. Call me.”
New York City
“The question remains, is this really a company we want to own? Like it? Yes, actually. I think it’s quite interesting. What? I feel like I know you from somewhere. Oh, doubtful. I only just moved here from London. London, really? That’s my all-time favorite city. It is? Absolutely. You know… I think perhaps I have met you somewhere before.”
“How about if we start at the top and work our way down? There are four bedrooms upstairs. Do you have any children? Not yet. That day, Tim popped the question. How’d you like to have dinner with my folks Tuesday night? I’d love to. On Tuesday, he called with some bad news. My mother’s not feeling very well. Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. Can we take a rain check? Of course. Tell your mom I hope she feels better. Tim, it’s Elizabeth. That’s an awfully long rain check. He said he was up to his ears and that he’d call the next day. He never did call, of course. Bastard. I don’t understand. In England, looking at houses together, would have meant something.”
“When you’re a young guy in your twenties, women are controlling the relationships. By the time you’re an eligible man in your thirties, you feel like you’re being devoured by women. Suddenly the guys are holding all the chips. I call it ‘the mid-thirties power flip.’ It’s all about age and biology. I mean, if you want to get married, it’s to have kids, right? And you don’t want to do it with someone older than 35 ’cause then you have to have kids right away and that’s about it. I think these women should forget about marriage… and have a good time.”
“The problem is expectations, older women don’t want to settle for what’s available. What women really want is Alec Baldwin. There’s not one woman in New York who hasn’t turned down ten wonderful guys because they were too short, or too fat, or too poor. Why don’t these women just marry a fat guy? Why don’t they just marry a big fat tub of lard? ♪ Happy birthday Dear Miranda ♪ Happy birthday to you ♪”
“Want to go back to my place and see the Ross Bleckner? No problem. ’89. No, you’re beautiful. Yeah? Well, it was my pleasure. I’ll get you a cab. So, what are you doing next Saturday? Hey… hey, you’re going to the West Side, right? Scoot over, will you? Two stops. 4th and Bank, and, uh… West Broadway and Broome. Oh, yeah. Look, I understand where you’re coming from, and I totally respect it… but, uh, I really need to have sex tonight.”
“After you. Later. Later. Oh, listen, I, uh… I gotta get up really early, so you can’t stay over. Cool?”
“Yes, sir.”
