*** Spoilers for And Just Like That… and Sex and the City below! ***
When showrunner Michael Patrick King announced early in August 2025 that season three of HBO Max’s And Just Like That… would be its last, I wasn’t surprised. The show, a reboot of the popular 1998 – 2004 HBO series Sex and the City, had been hard to watch, to say the least.
For one thing, AJLT is a lot quieter than SATC– protagonist Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) is no longer narrating the story. Her voiceover in the original series tied all the characters’ storylines together giving the viewer insight and witty asides into what was happening. It made watching the show feel intimate, like we were right there with Carrie, gossiping and making sense of it all alongside her. Now, Carrie’s best friends Miranda Hobbs (Cynthia Nixon) and Charlotte York-Goldenblatt (Kristin Davis) feel removed from her; the camaraderie seems strained.
AJLT has other faults too– for example, the influx of diverse characters to make up for SATC’s lily-white past, while not a bad thing, often seem to be there for the sake of being there. The extreme wealth of everyone on screen reduces any real world problems they may have to frivolous silliness. There is little or nothing to relate to anymore, which is saying something for a show originally set in a total fantasy version of NYC.
While it was good to be reunited with these beloved characters, knowing that AJLT’s season three would be its last was a relief. The girls deserved better than what they’d been served these past few years. So had their audience.
As I watched the last few episodes try their best, I began to reminisce…
A new era dawns for the SATC women
When AJLT premiered in December 2021, I was cautiously optimistic. The girls were back and even without the fourth member of their friend group, Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall), I was curious to see how they navigated the challenges and triumphs of middle age. Instead, the first several episodes of season one were akin to an ice skater trying to find their footing on the ice for the first time–frantically windmilling their arms, their legs slowly sliding further away from one another. Surely, I hoped, it had to get better.
The first season offered plenty of opportunity for growth and conflict – Carrie is widowed, Miranda explores her sexuality, Charlotte dives back into the workforce. New characters are added to the mix: Lisa Todd Wexley (Nicole Ari Parker), a documentary filmmaker, is a friend of Charlotte’s; Seema Patel (Sarita Choudhury) a real estate broker, hits it off with Carrie during the sale of her apartment. But as the first season oozed into the second and the third, fans were left wondering what to make of the cardboard cutouts that had replaced their favorite characters. Scenes involving Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda were awkward, jerking the viewer around with unrealistic dialogue. The trio lacks the connection it once had and as I watched, I couldn’t help but wonder…
…where had our girls gone?
Charlotte reacts to everything with cartoonish intensity, widening her eyes and shaping her mouth into a capital ‘O,’ spelling out her emotions for the audience. While she was always the cheerleader in the group, ready to support her friends through thick and thin, Charlotte’s feelings flowed in SATC. They were endearing, genuine. Now they’re jarring: AJLT’s season three penultimate episode finds the trio in Carrie’s cavernous living room calmly sipping drinks and catching up. Charlotte screams out of nowhere, obviously excited. She announces that their friend Anthony Marentino (Mario Cantone) is engaged. “You scared the shit out of me,” says Miranda. Girl, me too.
Speaking of, Miranda seems to have misplaced her backbone. Unhappy in her marriage, she begins exploring her sexuality, which for hyper organized, super logical Miranda, is a very interesting character arc. She ends up cheating on her husband Steve Brady (David Eigenberg) with comedian Che Diaz (Sarah Ramirez) in season one, asking for a divorce after the fact. From there, instead of focusing on her studies after choosing to go back to school, she drops a prestigious human-rights internship to follow her love interest to Los Angeles in season two. When Carrie, of all people, confronts her about her uncharacteristic choices, Miranda chalks it up to finally being happy and tosses her friend’s concerns to the side. It’s a far cry from the Miranda who, in SATC, berated her friends with one of the most iconic lines of the series, “How does it happen that four such smart women have nothing to talk about but boyfriends?”
And Carrie is just sitting there. After the death of her husband, John James Preston aka Mr. Big (Chris Noth), at the start of AJLT, she writes a book about it and the subject is never touched upon again. She then reaches out to Aidan Shaw (John Corbett) to rekindle their relationship in season two. This move confused fans as, though he was a favorite in the original series, Aidan has always been a bit toxic.
Meanwhile, Seema is being shoved into AJLT’s giant Samantha-shaped hole. As the only one of the women who isn’t married or in a relationship, she is the series’ sex-haver, going on dates and looking for love in a clear call-back to SATC’s premise.
And Lisa? Much like Charlotte, she’s the woman who has it all–successful career, loving husband, house full of kids. However, she’s so far removed from the others that it feels like her scenes should be a show of their own.
And Just Like That…
…season three began streaming in late May 2025. I told myself I wouldn’t watch–I was too disappointed with the first two seasons. Why put myself through another? But after a few weeks of boycott, I begrudgingly tuned in and braced myself. It wasn’t logic, it was morbid curiosity, like watching Human Centipede through your fingers.
This season, like the others, provided interesting storylines with plenty of conflict for the characters to come up against. For example, episode seven sees Miranda picking up the manuscript Carrie has been workshopping with her downstairs neighbor, fellow writer Duncan Reeves (Jonathan Cake). The novel’s first line, “The woman wondered what she had gotten herself into,” jumps out at Miranda as it reflects Carrie and Aidan’s difficult long-distance relationship. When she asks Carrie about it, Miranda is met with hostility–Carrie has her guard all the way up. I was intrigued–something was happening! Then, the scene cuts to something else.
There are many examples of this throughout season three. Often, an interesting development is brusquely shoved aside for a vapid storyline like Charlotte’s dog, Richard Burton, getting cancelled or Carrie getting upset at Miranda for eating the last yoghurt in the fridge.
Widowhood, dating in your 50s, coming out later in life, balancing careers and teenaged kids–all relatable situations rife with opportunity for a good story. Yet the show is scared to lean into conflict, not to mention menopause! Not a peep of that in three seasons while shows like The Golden Girls and Grace & Frankie fearlessly broached the subject. Somehow, we continue to tune in either out of hope that the series will snap out of it and at least give these women a hill to summit, or out of a tortured sense of loyalty to the characters.
As the credits rolled after another arduous episode of AJLT, I had a thought…
…was Sex and the City ever that good?
From its inception in 1998, SATC was revolutionary. To have a show focused on four single 30-something women prioritizing careers, love, dating, and each other was unlike anything on TV at the time. SATC presented womanhood as exciting and fun.
Fast forward several rewatches later and as a now jaded, 30-something woman myself living in New York, I’m questioning if SATC still holds up. It’s not that Carrie is able to afford a closet full of designer goodies by writing one column a week. It’s not that she makes shocking choices, can be a bad friend, and is pretty closed minded for a sex columnist. These are the things that make Carrie’s character complex, flawed. Relatable, even, as she mirrors our worst selves back to us on screen. The show does this with all four of its heroines; none of them are perfect, and that’s part of what’s allowed it to retain a captive audience long after going off the air. Our favorite girls are relatable.
SATC shines in many respects, especially in its exploration of sexual liberation. However, the series leans towards internalized misogyny – there is an underlying sentiment throughout that dating, casual sex, and self-reliance is fine but only up to a certain age. After that, women must find mates and settle down into their roles as wives and mothers.
Charlotte is the first to succumb when she quits her job as an art dealer to rush into marrying Trey Macdougal (Kyle MacLachlan) in season 3. Miranda settles on Steve in season 6, a man who forced himself into her life after she repeatedly told him she wasn’t interested after their one night stand in season 2. And in a disheartening turn of events, Carrie ends up with Mr. Big, the man who mentally and emotionally tormented her for 10 years. After he stands her up at their opulent wedding in the first movie, she forgives his trespasses in the end and marries him at the court house. Samantha is the only one who chooses herself, ending her healthy, emotionally mature relationship with Smith Jerrod (Jason Lewis) in the first movie.
In spite of everything, Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda are each other’s “soulmates”. But SATC insists that’s not enough. As the original series ends with all four women in romantic partnerships, the message seems to be that having a man, even the wrong one, is the only way a woman can be fulfilled.
What if SATC and AJLT are cautionary tales?
There is plenty of criticism and deep-dives online about our heroines’ bad choices and toxic relationships throughout both series. Of course, when I watched the highly censored reruns of SATC on E! in the early 2000s as a teen, and later from my laptop in my early 20s, I didn’t catch any of it. I was too busy gorging my eyes on the fashion and friendship, and was awed by their tantalizing encounters with men. Being a grown up in The Big Apple looked great; I proudly identified as a mix of Carrie and Miranda.
But time and experience changes perspective. As I’ve rewatched SATC, it’s been uncomfortable, even shocking, to see these strong, self-assured women often compromise who they are for who they think they should be. In AJLT, Charlotte and Miranda are dissatisfied with where they are in life and bravely choose to reconnect with themselves in different ways. Carrie, not so much.
Somewhere after the end of the second movie (let’s not even go there) and the start of AJLT, Big has become Carrie’s ideal partner. He’s present, loving, attentive, but only for one episode. How did they get here? We don’t get to know if they’ve been to couple’s counseling, for example. After his passing, Carrie has the opportunity to get reacquainted with herself, rediscover who she is and who she could become now that she’s single again. Instead, she goes back to Aidan in season two, selling her iconic apartment for an empty townhouse so they can be together in neutral territory.
Of all her friends, Carrie is the only one who fears learning from her mistakes. In her refusal to grow, she’s unable to break free from ping-ponging between two men who aren’t good for her to eventually find someone who’s a more ideal fit–or better yet, find satisfaction on her own.
Stifling yourself to yield to societal pressures leads to resentment (Miranda). Holding on to things that aren’t good for you leads to repeated heartbreak (Carrie). Trusting yourself leads to personal fulfillment (Charlotte and Samantha).
Maybe underneath the fun and fantasy of both shows, these are the lessons the viewer is meant to take away. After all, even Carrie recognized at the end of SATC that “the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself.” It won’t always be easy, and there will be plenty of mess to contend with, but if you’re brave enough to take a chance on you, it’ll always be worth it. Of course, cultivating solid friendships along the way can’t hurt.
Not to mention, doing it all in a fabulous pair of shoes.
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