Introducing Endless Mode: A New Games & Anime Site from Paste
What do we want from Sex And The City—forgive me, And Just Like That…—in 2025? The original show was a cultural phenomenon, influencing everything from fashion to language and impacting how women’s stories would be told onscreen for decades to come. It challenged more conventional attitudes about sex, sexuality, and what women should strive to be beyond their twenties. And it created four complex, well-loved characters who felt real because they were often unlikeable.
When AJLT premiered in 2021, still in the midst of a global pandemic and reckoning about racial inequity, the general thesis of the show seemed to be: Wouldn’t it be funny if we plopped these women you know and love into our modern times? Isn’t it hilarious to watch Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) overcompensate for her white privilege? What would Charlotte (Kristen Davis) do if her child identified as non-binary? What if Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) had to pivot to a podcast?
The whole thing felt wildly tone-deaf and a far cry from the beloved original. Which is not to say that SATC was never cringey or cheesy, because of course it was. Over the course of its second season, it seemed like AJLT was slowly discovering what worked and what didn’t. What we want from this show now is the same thing we wanted from it 20 years ago: to see well-drawn women wrestle with love, friendship, and sexuality in believable ways—ways we too rarely see depicted onscreen, especially now that they’re in their fifties.
The season-three premiere makes me cautiously optimistic that AJLT has finally figured that out. Firstly, between seasons, it cut characters like Nya (Karen Pittman) and Che (Sara Ramírez) who were not adding to the show. By trimming the main-character count down to five, the series creates more space for meaningful storylines. It seems (Sarita Choudhury) has always been the most interesting character in this reboot, but she has long been reduced to playing Carrie’s sounding board. In the premiere, she gets a whole arc unto herself that frees her from her regrettable Marvel-movie boyfriend. And maybe AJLT is finally ready to give her the attention she deserves.
The premiere hits the reset button on a couple other key things too: If you recall, we ended season two with Aidan (John Corbett) asking Carrie for a five-year gap in their relationship so he could be there for his delinquent teenage son, Wyatt. I wondered if season three would deliver a time-jump, because what exactly would we be witnessing in those five years? But no, we pick up exactly where we left off with a confusing arrangement that no one understands—not even Carrie and Aidan! They’re sending each other postcards with just hearts drawn on them? He’s drunk dialing her to instigate phone sex in the most unappealing way I’ve ever seen depicted (do not give me the ick for Aidan Shaw, AJLT) but then shutting her down when she initiates her own call. The boundaries are unclear! So much so that Carrie feels compelled to fake a phone sex orgasm!
Meanwhile, Miranda is confidently identifying as a lesbian and frequenting “lady bars,” where she is running up high mocktail tabs waiting for other women to approach her. One finally does: a Canadian nun named Mary (Rosie O’Donnell—I thought you left the country?) visiting New York for the first time. Charmed by her forthright admiration, Miranda goes back to her hotel room, only to discover after the fact that Mary was a virgin and is now maybe in love with Miranda? It’s all a little silly as she texts Miranda from her various tourist traps (Tavern on the Green, the carousel in Central Park, a showing of Wicked, Times Square) trying to meet up, but this is fine. Miranda feels like Miranda again—a cynical, career-focused woman—who is trying to figure out her sexuality in a new chapter. As in the original show, there will be mishaps. But hopefully they’ll be mixed in with moments of vulnerability and truth (ones that do not include quoting Wicked lyrics).
And then there are our married ladies: Charlotte and her friend, Lisa (Nicole Ari Parker). Between her three children, her husband running for comptroller, and her career as a documentary filmmaker, Lisa is our resident “trying to have it all” character. And I love that for her. I love watching her struggle. I love watching her wake up at 4 a.m. to go over her PBS pitch in her multi-million dollar kitchen. (The wealth porn of this show is out of control and more insane than anything we’ve ever seen on The White Lotus.) I love watching her navigate a marriage to another ambitious person. She’s a great addition to the show.
Charlotte is always saddled with the most ridiculous storylines, and it’s no different in this premiere, in which her dog has been wrongly accused of assaulting another dog in the neighborhood. I will not go into further detail because it’s as stupid as it sounds, but Kristen Davis has such an innate understanding of her character that she always elevates her material. Despite this weak opening, I have faith in Charlotte for this season.
The episode ends with Carrie returning to her laptop after her failed phone call to Aidan and beginning to write again for the first time in a while: “The woman wondered what she had gotten herself into.” With any luck, it’s a better season of television than the two that came before. The unknown was always a good place for this show to be.
Stray observations
- • Rock’s (Alexa Swinton) line—“Mom. Believe women.”—made me chuckle, but I absolutely will not accept that Lily (Cathy Ang) shops at SHEIN. Charlotte would not allow it!
- • Anthony’s whole storyline is pushing Carrie on the status of the Aidan relationship and her refusing to talk about it. He eventually apologizes, but I think someone should be pushing her on this.
- • Herbert’s (Chris Jackson) campaign manager thinks his a-capella performance is uncool, but does he not know this man played Hamilton‘s original George Washington and Moana’s dad?!
