This week:
- Emotional about the end of And Just Like That.
- Emotional about the return of Mamma Mia!
- Emotional about Taylor Swift.
- Emotional about the Kennedy Center.
- And also Shrek.
My Life Without Carrie Bradshaw
My best friend just abandoned me.
That’s how it feels, with less than a month’s notice, to find out that Carrie Bradshaw was just…going away.
Apparently, Sarah Jessica Parker and Michael Patrick King found a fitting end for the character. Apparently, it’s the perfect time to stop. Apparently, neither of these people care about my mental health.
I have spent my entire adult life invested in Carrie Bradshaw. I viewed every experience I’ve had in New York through the prism of how she and her friends experienced it. I found joy in every moment here because of her, and in every aggravation cursed her name. I also became smug because of her; my ex and I used to enthusiastically rewatch the series—multiple times—and scream at the TV “you’re in your thirties!!!!” every time they were ludicrously finicky about dating and, just, life.
I know that people have mixed feelings about the quality of the sequel series And Just Like That, but I found it to be a privilege to see what a creative team, many of whom were around for the first series, would envision who Carrie and her girls would be—and what they would think about dating and the world—in the time after we last saw them on SATC.
And Just Like That, and, at least for now, the Sex and the City universe is gone for good, after 27 years. There’s not a cosmo big enough to mourn. The fact that typing “big” gave me PTSD to “Big” is testament to that. But I want to give credit to And Just Like That.
It was infuriating. It was messy. It was embarrassing. And because of all those things, very real. Those three adjectives pretty much define my experience of getting older.
It had its annoyances; RIP Che Diaz, but also thank you for my most read story ever at the Daily Beast. But even its stupidness, the show somehow resonated with me. And Just Like That…we had the singular example of one of the thousands of revivals and sequels that dared to actually interrogate what its characters might be like in a modern world, and not just do fan service.
The lack of fan service, I think, is a huge sticking point with the backlash to And Just Like That.
There was so much reaction to “Miranda would never behave this way” (chaotic lesbian), and “Charlotte is being rewritten to appease the wokes” (has a gender questioning child). Can I counter with…not a single one of my lifelong friends, especially the ones I connected with in adulthood, has even a trace of the same personality as when I met them?
They are all so different from when we met—and, I’d like to think, so am I—that it is as if they had a full body transplant. That’s the challenge of growing older. Changing yourself as your “people” are also changing, and figuring out how you can still be in each other’s lives and find perspective on each others’ new challenges as you evolve. That’s actually what I think And Just Like That did beautifully, and also what made it so hard to watch.
It’s also why I’m so appreciative of Carrie Bradshaw and particularly Sarah Jessica Parker’s performance.
There is no more charming celebrity than SJP. I’ve witnessed it in person. There is also, for all the glamour and fabulousness and wealth, no celebrity of that stature who has her feet—or, I guess, stilettos—firmly planted down on earth. That’s been essential to this 27-year journey.
Carrie was chaotic, made terrible choices, was aspirational and delusional, was relatable and accessible, was a terror, was a friend, was the closest to me a person could be, and was as far removed from reality as I could possibly see. But while that maelstrom of qualities assigned to her swirled around her, she did have those feet on the ground. In the most literal way possible—typing her thoughts out on a laptop while she narrated them—she channeled our inner monologue.
I look back on my 27 years of finding myself and losing myself. Of being in that kind of all-consuming, stupid love. Of going through very grown-up heartbreak. Of asserting my worth, and losing my worth—and finding it again. Of seeing my friends be spectacular, and seeing them be so disappointing—and being at the restaurant with some wine to talk through both. Of trying to figure out who I am alone, but also having the honor of having friends and family to distract me from that painful journey. With less fashion and way fewer shoes, it’s not…that unlike Carrie Bradshaw.
It’s become a meme at this point, but I still think it’s transgressive. “I couldn’t help but wonder…” Carrie is putting a wrecking ball through a societal wall, her boundless and endlessly endearing curiosity being so much that she can’t help but ask the questions about life.
The answers are not always what you want, and sometimes don’t even exist. In the case of And Just Like That, they may be infuriating. But to even just ask the question…the fact that I couldn’t figure out which punctuation to put on the end of that sentence speaks volumes.
You Can Jive
I woke up this morning, and weirdly there is sun coming through my windows where there has never been light. A bird chirped; there has never been a bird. I started answering emails and 30 minutes later realized I wasn’t wearing my glasses; I didn’t need them.
My vision was clear. The sunlight was beaming. The bagel I ordered arrived, for the first time, with the exact specifications I asked for. I was suddenly three inches taller and lost the 20 pounds I’ve been struggling to lose. Through the wall of my apartment, I could hear the faint sounds of someone blasting Céline Dion on a Friday morning.
I wondered what could possibly be the reason for such rhapsody, and then I remembered: I just saw Mamma Mia! on Broadway.
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: There is no greater experience a human can have than seeing Mamma Mia!. In case you forget, I encourage you to walk down 7th Avenue between 51st and 50th Street, where that exact quote is plastered.
Quite possibly the most Kevin Fallon of all Kevin Fallon pullquotes pic.twitter.com/7bsbF7J1s0
— Kevin Fallon (@kpfallon) August 9, 2025
My enthusiasm for this ABBA jukebox musical is utter silliness. Or so I thought until I was at the opening (!!!) this week. The exuberance that came out of the crowd was a level that—this is so corny—really moved me.
Everything right now is…hard. However you feel politically, there’s no denying that just existing during this tension is just plain hard. You know what’s not hard? Losing your s–t while some diva belts out “The Winner Takes It All.”
There’s a high level of talent and craft that goes into pulling off Mamma Mia! to make it Broadway-worthy and not just “This Production Is Brought to You by Kevin While He’s Vacuuming on a Sunday.” But there is something about the show and its joy that is so accessible, to the point of being almost transactional. Need some joy? Buy a ticket.
I had the time of my life at this opening. But I also appreciate what it means to be able to see something that lifts you up—and that you can guarantee will do that—when you’re down.
The True Life of a Showgirl
I have been delighted by every single one of the The Life of a Showgirl memes that have popped up since Taylor Swift announced it as the title of her upcoming twelfth album.
Who knew how many pop culture references could fit perfectly into an assignment of “make a meme about a showgirl”?
But what I’m most appreciative of is that the album announcement found an occasion to bring back the absolutely absurd and, as such, positively genius video that comedians Kate Berlant and John Early produced.
It is an exact replica, frame-by-frame of the iconic/notorious dance rehearsal scene from the movie Showgirls, starring Elizabeth Berkley.
— daily kb (@DailyBerlant) August 12, 2025
There’s inherent absurdity in the recreation; Early plays Berkley’s character, wearing the same costume and a convincing wig. But the meticulousness of it—every gesture and body position is exact—makes you realize that Showgirls actually was more of a cinematic triumph than its legendary “flop” gives it credit for.
Every few months this video comes across my social media timeline. I will watch it straight through every time.
Why Is Everything Being Ruined?
The finest night of entertainment every year is the Kennedy Center Honors.
As it had been, a refined institution selected a roster of artists who were not just brilliant, but their work and their presence in our lives shepherded us through shifts in culture, movements, and moments. To honor them, some of the most talented people who benefitted from their work delivered show-stopping homages. It was, reliably, a breathtaking, incredibly moving night.
I grew up adjacent to the Kennedy Center and have been there many times with my family, and what is happening not just to it, but to its mission and what the center is supposed to represent, is heartbreaking to me. But at least now we’ll get to see Donald Trump ramble about grass and then introduce Kiss—who I recall actually hates him, too. Great.
An Actual Tragedy
Now even the new Shrek is being delayed? Can we not have one good thing?
‘SHREK 5’ has been delayed to June 30, 2027 pic.twitter.com/BjxvM6fACh
— DiscussingFilm (@DiscussingFilm) August 11, 2025
More From The Daily Beast’s Obsessed
We need to talk about Carrie Bradshaw’s last dress. Read more.
Is Travis Kelce really the new “America’s Sweetheart”? Read more.
How Hacks predicted the Stephen Colbert late-night drama. Read more.
What to Watch This Week:
Highest 2 Lowest: Denzel Washington and Spike Lee. I mean, c’mon… (Now in theaters)
American Prince: JFK Jr.: Gosh he was handsome. And gosh, he had so much potential. (Sat. on CNN)
Platonic: My answer to “what show should I be watching this summer?” (Now on Apple TV+)
What to Skip This Week:
The Rainmaker: Sometimes we should just let good movies stay as good movies. (Fri. on USA)
Nobody 2: Sometimes we should just let a movie not have a sequel. (Now in theaters)
Americana: Sometimes Sydney Sweeney doesn’t need to be in your movie. (Now in theaters)
The post How Do I Live Without Carrie Bradshaw? appeared first on The Daily Beast.
