What a frock up!
Well it finally happened. Like the proverbial bride-to-be preparing for her wedding night I'd been waiting and waiting, until I was almost borderline bonkers with anticipation, and then the moment arrived; I saw Sex and The City the movie. And boy what an anti climax.
I suppose anything that is looked forward to with such eagerness was bound to disappoint just a little. Don't get me wrong, it was lovely to see the girls again... but as with many reunions that take place after a long lapse, I had to admit things the spark just wasn't there anymore, somewhat inevitable with everyone paired off.
Where were the fun, frolics, and whip-smart, wisecracking humour that made SATC the TV series such a must-see, and leavened the brittle and neurotic edge that characterised Carrie's, Miranda's, Sam's and Charlotte's adventures in sexual blunderland?
Even the free cosmopolitans and shampoo I downed before taking my seat at a special charity event could not revive the SATC mojo. And the product placement was so blatant it made Sam's sexual frankness look like a nun's prayer. If I didn't know better I'd forget that Louis Vuitton was a designer and assume he was some kind of high-class pimp.
The hype-followed-by-droop dynamic has spilled into promotion for the film, which saw lead actress Sarah Jessica Parker - now widely hailed as the fashion equivalent of, well, God, or to be more gender-appropriate Superwoman (she can do no wrong and can change costumes before you can say "Gucci!") - appearing at the Big Apple premier of the movie dressed in nothing less than a fashion faux pas.
SJP must indeed have wished for Superwomanly powers when she arrived at Manhattan's Radio City Music Hall wearing what she thought was a one-off frock by designer Olivier Theyskens (of Nina Ricci fame), but which soon emerged as having been worn no less than twice before.
The first offence was committed by (D-list?) party girl Lauren Santo Domingo at the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute Gala but - horror of horrors - the get-up had also adorned the deliciously dodgy Lindsay Lohan in Harper's Bazaar magazine earlier this year.
SJP said she had been assured by the designer the gown had never been worn or photographed before, despite the fact that he had been captured on camera accompanying Santo Domingo. Somehow I couldn't help a sigh of worldly-wise resignation on learning this.
That is what you get for putting style over substance... which I'm afraid pretty much sums up SATC the movie. Thankfully for those involved, such is the pulling power of New York's most famous girl-gang, lack of originality in either screenplay or red-carpet attire has resoundingly failed to have a negative effect on profit margins.
Within nano-seconds of opening, the big screen version SATC catapulted to the top of the US box office - leaving Indiana Jones in its wake - with earnings of $US56.8 million ($A59.53 million). Sex sells? You betcha!
By Kat Walker