Every morning,
millions of New Yorkers leave their crowded apartments
and head out to the even more crowded streets
on their way to work.
Today, I was one of them.
Sometimes a girl just needs a new start.
I had a new do, a new mortgage,
and therefore, a new job.
I had just submitted my first freelance article
for one of the most relevant and provocative magazines
on the newsstands today, at least to me... Vogue,
also known as Mecca, where I belonged.
This isn't Vogue.
Oh, you didn't like it?
No, no one is saying that.
Well, I am, I'll say it.
I didn't like it, there, I said it.
No, what Enid is trying to say, Carrie,
is that you wrote a wonderful first draft--
-It isn't Vogue. - [Carrie] There it was,
the article I'd put my heart and soul into.
And it was bleeding.
Your spin on the idea, Carrie, is very clever.
Different types of men as the new accessories for fall.
A, uh, Prada--
A Prada dress should always be worn
with an investment banker.
I mean, that's wonderful.
Julian, the assignment was 500 words on accessories,
not men.
And I'm not convinced she knows anything about purses,
or for that matter, men.
Enid, for the love of God.
Ms. Bradshaw, what you've handed us here
is essentially just your newspaper column
with the word "style" jammed in where the word "sex" used to be.
We're not looking for Vogue according to your agenda.
No one cares about your agenda.
-That's not true. -Oh, forgive me,
I don't care about your agenda.
I care about designers,
Oscar de la Renta, Chanel, Dior.
I want less Carrie Bradshaw,
and more "carry" this bag with these shoes,
do you see what I mean?
You're a writer, you should be writing this down.
I was trying to find a way to introduce the bags
and the bracelets with a little humor.
Kind of "men are the new black."
It was supposed to be funny.
It was supposed to be bags.
Well, I didn't really...
bring a writing...
Okay, bags.
An hour later,
-Enid had to leave for a lunch date...
...presumably to devour another writer.
Don't let Enid get to you.
She just came back from Paris
and apparently humor and irony are "out" this season.
-♪ My days can't... ♪
Billie Holiday...
The only woman I could think of
in more pain than you right now.
-Come on, cookie, chin up.
In publishing, you need two things,
a tough hide...
and a dry martini.
Martinis in the morning?
Is this allowed?
Is it Vogue?
Only in absolute emergencies.
Last time I broke this out was when I heard
that "fun fur" was making a comeback.
Oh, look at this mess...
Why was I even hired?
Well, I'm afraid you have me to blame for that.
My daughter introduced me to your column about a year ago.
I thought you'd be a natural at Vogue.
Well, I guess you thought wrong.
I haven't been wrong yet.
Vogue is all about vision, and you, cookie,
have got vision.
We just have to find a way to hide your vision
from Enid's vision.
A little less you, a little more purse.
C'mon...
Drink.
Cheers.
One and a half martinis later...
And the sad thing is...
This is what I do best.
-I mean, look at it! -Cookie,
you're drunk.
Yeah, cookie's drunk.
I'm drunk at Vogue.
How can anyone get so drunk on one and a half martinis?
I didn't eat breakfast and I'm a size two.
Which should make me perfect for Vogue,
but nope.
I'm drunk and a failure at Vogue.
I feel awful,
this is my fault.
Aw, Julian...
I came in here today so cocky,
I thought I knew it all.
I had my man jokes and my purse puns...
And you heard her, what do I know about purses?
Nothing!
What do I know about men?
Oops.
I spilled.
I spilled at Vogue.
Okay, okay,
maybe we better just take you home.
I can't go out there.
I'm drunk...
I'm drunk at Vogue.
Oh.
Right. Left.
Now look at me...
Pretend I'm saying something fantastic about corsets.
-Excuse me.
Please tell me that wasn't Anna Wintour.
It wasn't, now just...
Left...
Right, left.
Left.
Left. Oh...
I'm so sorry.
That night, at a more appropriate cocktail hour...
Oh, c'mon, there must be something you want for your birthday.
What I want for my birthday is not to celebrate it this year.
Well, what if I want to celebrate it?
Then that would be celebration enough.
Besides, I have everything I need.
It's not about needing something.
It's about wanting something just for fun.
Something decadent, something naughty even.
May I tempt you with dessert?
How is everything this evening, Mr. Wright?
Delicious, thank you.
Alexa.
I took the liberty of pre-ordering our chocolate souffle
for you and Ms. Jones,
if you're in the mood for something sweet.
Always, thank you for keeping an eye on us.
I couldn't help it.
You're the most attractive couple in the restaurant.
I know what I'd like for my birthday.
An all-night, non-stop championship fuckfest with you.
Then consider your candles blown.
And Alexa.
You asked.
Is a three-way with a 21-year-old
a bad idea for Richard's birthday?
What are you gonna get him next year, a four-way?
Look, he doesn't want to be monogamous.
So, either cheat with me or without me.
Well, happy birthday to you.
It's not like he asked me to get him a hooker.
These are the options!
It's someone we know,
and at least this way I'm part of the fantasy.
Yeah, the fantasy being that he's attracted
to someone young enough to be his daughter.
He is, Charlotte! That's the problem.
Richard's in his fucking prime.
Men get better looking as they get older
and women get--
Three-ways apparently.
Or a Marc Jacobs ultra-mod little notebook, huh?
Evidently, I'm recommending it to Vogue shoppers.
Just be careful, Samantha.
When a man has a fantasy and you fulfill it,
there's always the chance that the relationship could blow up
and then you're just the idiot
who did it with him on the golf course, or something.
Was it you and Trey?
No, no, it's a "for instance."
Sorry I'm late,
I was shopping for a stroller.
I shouldn't even be here.
I should be out doing all the things I'm supposed to do
before the baby comes,
and I'm unable to leave my apartment ever again.
Like what, Ju Jitsu and off-track betting?
Like buying a crib.
-Oh. -Evidently, I'm to go to Crib World,
because it's a whole world of cribs.
I guess Crib City wasn't big enough.
Why isn't there a store called "This Is The Crib For You"?
And they just have one great crib,
and they deliver it, and assemble it,
and help you raise your child.
You don't have a crib yet?
No, Charlotte, I have a job instead.
I'm sorry, but when am I supposed to find time
to prepare for this baby?
I don't have a vague idea how I'm gonna do any of this.
Well, I don't have a Vogue idea, so, hello.
Why don't you let ol' one ball help you?
Yeah, I tried that,
and he starts acting all father-figure, and I get territorial,
and the salespeople get confused, and trust me,
it's too complicated for Crib World.
Let me help you. I mean, I know you said you didn't want a baby shower,
but it's not too late to change your mind.
-I hate baby showers. Ugh...
Who doesn't?
The games, the finger sandwiches,
all that enforced "ooh-ing" and "ah-ing."
I don't "ooh" and "ah," I don't care who's having a baby.
But think of the gifts.
It would be a great way to get all the stuff you need.
Without having to go to Crib World.
But who would I invite besides you guys?
All the bitches that made you go to theirs.
-Hm. -Well, it's your shower.
And you can invite or not invite whoever you choose.
Would you really want to throw me a baby shower
after all you've been through this year?
Yeah, I think it would be good for me.
Okay, but no cutesy-storky shit.
Just an adult,
dignified lunch with presents.
Which I will open after everyone leaves.
You have to open the presents.
No opening of presents, no games, no crustless bread.
And I want fried chicken.
Fried chicken? But it's not Super Bowl Sunday.
It's my shower and I'll fry if I want to.
-What should we do for our gift?
Let's just stick to the registry, three-way.
The next day, Charlotte decided
if she was going to host a baby shower,
she should hide the evidence
that she had wanted one of her own.
Later that week,
I had a meal with the perfect dinner accessory... Julian.
So, my wife is a former dancer.
She was with the Martha Graham Company.
And the first time I saw her on stage
I fell in love with her.
She pliéd, and I plotzed.
It'll be 24 years next September.
So, you got married right out of grade school.
I knew there was something about you that I liked. Mm.
What about your life?
Is there a man in your life? Is it a great love?
Um...
Nah, I just broke up with somebody.
And yes, it was a great love.
But, he went there.
I went there.
And there you have it.
So, Julian, the reason that I asked you to dinner tonight...
Is because you knew I would pay?
Besides that...
Um, I wanted to tell you that I really appreciate
your interest in my article,
but I've decided not to finish it.
So, what are you gonna do, you're just gonna quit?
No, no, no, I don't let my kids quit.
Well, technically, I'm not one of your kids,
I'm just a girl you get drunk sometimes.
Alright, forget about me...
What would your father say about you quitting?
Well, my father wouldn't have a whole lot to say about quitting.
He quit my mother and me when I was little.
I'm sorry.
Oh, thanks, no, I mean, a long time ago,
-I was five. -Why'd he leave?
No idea, never said.
And that's the name of that tune.
Hmm...
-What? -No, no, it's interesting.
Your father leaves without any answers,
and you spend your life asking questions about men.
Well, it's 20 years of analysis, forgive me?
-Yes. -Okay, Vogue.
Vogue?
What if I could fix it
so that you only deal with me
and Enid spends less time hating your writing
and more time hating Tom Ford's line, hmm?
Julian...
Oh, come on, cookie, you're no quitter
and we get to work on this together,
what do ya say?
Why are you being so sweet?
Martini guilt.
Later that night, I got to thinking about fathers,
or the lack of them. Some say
a daughter's relationship with her father
is the model for all her subsequent relationships with men.
Is that just "pop" psychology,
or is there some truth to it?
And if you were given a less than perfect model,
does it mean a life of less than perfect relationships?
I couldn't help but wonder...
How much does a father-figure figure?
Gentlemen, I understand your concern,
but I'm looking at the contract right now--
I'm sorry, could you hold for a moment?
I'm on a conference call here.
Charlotte York says it's an emergency.
Charlotte, what's wrong, are you okay?
I'm fine, I'm just looking over your registry
and there are some things you forgot to include.
Like a Manhattan Whozit.
-A what? -It's a learning toy.
Active toys make for passive children.
There's a whole philosophy behind it.
I don't have time for philosophy.
I'm on a conference call with our London Office.
What about a Peek-A-Ball? Peek-A-Ball!
Peek-A-Ball, Miranda!
Jesus, Charlotte, I have to get back.
Just one more quick thing.
I know you said no storks,
but I saw the most gorgeous centerpiece in the shape of a--
I'm at work!
Well, we have to order it by noon.
Now, its feathers are white Fiji mums...
What did I say?
No storks, but these people are giving you
expensive gifts and they're gonna want to see a little baby.
No storks, no present opening, no cutesy baby stuff.
We agreed!
What about a marzipan baby carriage?
-Charlotte! -It has a white chocolate peanut butter baby inside
and you can eat the baby.
Miranda? Miranda!
The next day,
Samantha made a conference call of her own.
Ms. Jones, welcome.
Will Mr. Wright be joining you for lunch?
No, actually,
it's Richard's birthday this weekend,
and I'm trying to put together a little celebration for him.
Certainly, would you like to reserve one of our banquet rooms or--
Oh, that won't be necessary.
It's a very small party,
a very small,
private party... of three.
Just Richard,
myself, and a third...
If you have any openings.
I'm wide open.
Lucky me.
And now that Charlotte's house was ready for the baby shower,
she wanted to make sure Miranda's house
was ready for the baby.
So, the bassinet can go over here, by the bed.
-Uh-huh. -So, when you have to
get up for feedings, he's right there. See?
-Yeah. -Unless you're
planning to have him sleep in the bed with you.
-Can't I go to jail for that? -No,
in fact, many cultures believe that it's safer
for the baby's breathing.
Although you do run the risk of rolling over
and smooshing him in your sleep. But that almost never happens.
But, almost isn't never,
so, if you want to err on the side of safety--
Um, I'll just put him in the thing.
-The bassinet. -Yeah.
-Great!
And then when he's big enough, you can put the crib here.
Is that what you were thinking?
Oh, I hadn't thought about that yet.
Well, you need to start
thinking about these things,
'cause there are a million questions to answer
before the baby ever gets here.
Do you have a birthing plan?
Do you know what kind of a mother you want to be?
Yes, I plan to be a... good mother!
But a marsupial mom or a stroller mom?
Will you be breast-feeding or bottle-feeding?
And what about baby-proofing?
'Cause with all the sharp edges around here,
I mean, this place is a deathtrap.
Okay, you need to back off.
I'm just trying to help.
This is your idea of helping?
Pointing out all the things I do badly?
I'm not pointing out--
Yes, you are.
You need to try to let other people in a little,
because once you have that baby,
it's not just you anymore.
You're not gonna be able to control everything.
Look, I just want to enjoy the fried chicken
and be done with it.
Oh, um...
Well, I had to re-think the fried chicken.
'Cause you're the only one who wanted all that breading,
so instead, we're having mesclun greens
and a lovely puttanesca.
With a Fiji mum centerpiece.
A Fiji mum stork centerpiece?
One stork, I think you can deal with one stork.
Two storks, I saw the invitation.
There's a stork on the invitation.
That's not a stork, that is a duck.
And that duck is smoking an "it's a boy" cigar.
That duck's not for children.
That duck is fucked, this whole shower is fucked!
You can't have a shower without some baby stuff.
You keep this up, you're gonna have a shower without a mommy!
-Fine! -Fine!
Miranda, you better show up!
I am not getting stuck with a bunch of lawyers,
who, if they're anything like you,
won't even appreciate a beautiful puttanesca!
Watch out for the sharp edges!
Thanks for coming down and talking.
Well, I really didn't have a choice.
You couldn't make it up the stairs.
-There.
You feel better?
The back, yes, the other stuff, no.
I'm gonna be a terrible mother.
-Miranda... -I am.
I have no maternal instincts, no patience.
The way I yelled at Charlotte.
She was just trying to point out what needed to be child-proofed.
-Oh, my God. -What?
I'm what needs to be child-proofed.
You want to quit?
Come on, I'll quit the magazine, you quit the baby.
We'll be two quitters, we'll live happily ever after.
Can I tell you a secret?
You're not really pregnant, it's water weight?
I dropped my niece on her head.
I was babysitting when I was 13 and I got bored.
I got bored, Carrie!
I was doing my homework, she slid down the couch.
Two stitches.
Get off my stoop.
How is this kid ever gonna make it?
A type-A mother who works 50 hours a week
and no father figure.
He has a father figure.
Steve.
I meant you.
Oh, really?
-Yeah. -I do like those Yankees.
Second date, dinner and a movie.
Yeah, I hate them.
Hey...
Do you think it really can be as simple as my father walked out,
therefore, I'll always be messed up about men?
My father came home every night at seven on the dot,
and I have no clue about men either.
-So, it's a crapshoot. -Mm.
Do I have to go to my own baby shower?
I RSVP'd to a duck with a cigar.
-All right. -You're going.
Okay, it's late, I gotta catch a cab.
Wait, let me get you a forklift.
-Are you ready? -Yeah, okay.
Go, go, go, go. Here you go.
-Thank you. -You did good.
-You, too.
The next day,
Miranda decided not to duck her own shower.
Hey, you showed up.
Yeah, yeah, bring on the ladies in hats
and let's get this over with.
Where'd you put all the storks?
Well, you said you didn't want any storks.
Yeah, I know, but--
Charlotte, what did you do?
-Well, it's your shower.
-Oh, can you get that?
'Cause I have to get the rest of the sandwiches.
Which have all of their crusts, nothing cute.
No ridiculous over-the-top baby stuff allowed.
Oh!
-Hey, mama! -Why are you opening the door?
Aren't you supposed to be sitting on a lily pad
being worshipped?
What is that?
It's a four-tiered baby cake made entirely of diapers.
I baked it myself.
We ordered it online.
What am I supposed to do with it?
How the hell should we know, didn't you want one?
-No. -Well, we're not taking it back.
We've already been seen carrying it down Park Avenue.
-Huh. -Definitely not Vogue.
Charlotte said it was the shower gift.
See, I told you we should've gotten a massage certificate.
One hour, two platters of chicken, and 13 lawyers later,
all talk had turned to babies.
Well, almost all.
She may be 21, but I have 21 years of experience.
I can fuck her under the table.
Well, that's good to know,
because in a three-way situation, it could come to that.
Honey, I have tricks she hasn't even seen.
And those tricks aren't for kids.
And no matter what happens, she's just renting him.
I own.
Exactly.
Although, I don't really own.
So, it's more of an illegal sublet type of thing?
-Yeah. -Wow.
It's a breast pump.
-Oh! Well,
you know, I didn't want you coming to my office to borrow mine.
You know what, I have to pee.
Oh, no, no, wait, wait, here.
-You take Charles. -Oh.
Have fun, Mom.
Alright, keep 'em coming, ladies!
-Let's keep the presents comin'!
-Miranda! -Yeah?
Nothing.
Something tells me this one's Tiffany.
Ooh... -That's from me.
Oh...
-That is elegant. -Oh, my God.
That's exactly like the rattle Trey gave me
when we first--
You okay?
I'm fine, I'm fine.
I'm sorry, everybody.
Excuse me.
What did I do?
Charlotte?
I just need to be alone right now.
Okay.
Except, you know,
you got 20 people in the other room.
I'm sorry I ruined your shower.
You didn't.
And there wouldn't even be a shower to ruin
if it weren't for you.
Look, I know this is hard.
And I really appreciate you trying to be okay
with me having this baby.
Because I need you.
I mean, let's face it,
you're the only person in my life who...
knows how important it is to have a cake
made entirely out of diapers.
There's lotion in there, too.
Oh, yeah?
And baby bottles. And a receiving blanket.
See?
I would never have known that.
You would've figured it out.
And just like that, Miranda realized,
she might be a good mother figure as well.
Ah, hello?
Somebody better go check on mommy in the guest bath,
because little Fitz here has wet himself.
-And myself, I might add. -Oh...
Well, I happen to have four tiers of diapers.
-Oh, good. -Ladies,
can we cut the cake and get out of here?
I have a three-way to go to.
-Yeah.
That's my earring.
That night, at the birthday three-way,
Samantha made sure it happened her way.
Just so we're clear.
Tonight is just about sex, not love.
So, there will be no kissing on the mouth.
Richard's lips are off-limits to anyone but me.
What if he kisses me?
Who's up for champagne?
I'm up for anything.
Hey!
Easy, Sam, there's more than enough of me to go around.
You tell her, daddy.
The one thing Richard didn't want for his birthday
was to feel older.
Get rid of her.
I'm on it.
Ooh!
Hey!
It was time for the fledgling to leave the love-nest.
Anything else you want for your birthday?
Nah, this is great.
Just you and me.
What about my three-way?
I have a busboy arriving at midnight.
Seriously, let's try this.
Just you and me,
nobody else.
Oh, okay.
By giving Richard what he thought he wanted,
Samantha finally got what she needed...
Monogamy.
The following night, with a little after-hours help
from my favorite editor...
I finished the impossible,
my first Vogue piece.
And now, my favorite part of the writing process...
Print.
Congratulations, cookie.
500 beautifully written words,
and some of them even include the Carrie Bradshaw agenda,
cleverly hidden, of course.
It's a literary Where's Waldo?
When I finish a new piece,
I usually celebrate by opening a bottle of Chateau Latour.
How do you celebrate?
By buying shoes and purses.
Well, in that case... Have you ever heard of the Vogue accessories closet?
Oh, my God!
It's too good.
I'm sorry, but it's, oh, it's too good.
Just like a kid in a couture candy store.
This is too much.
How can this be?
Well, designers send us things, and we photograph them.
Oh, my God!
Shh, Carrie!
Do you-- Do you know what these are?
We're not even supposed to be in here.
Manolo Blahnik Mary Janes.
I thought these were an urban shoe myth.
Now, if you'll excuse me.
I'll be pillaging the men's side.
Okay, oh, my God!
These are authentic patent leather.
And if they don't fit,
so help me, I'm gonna wear them anyway.
Oh... Wow. Well, they--
-They almost fit. Carrie?
-Yeah? -Tell me what you think
about these Versaces.
Okay, alright.
Oh.
Oh!
-What do you think? -Oh, my...
Wha-- What are you doing?
I'm just showing you these briefs.
Well, don't!
Julian, pull your pants up.
Oof! Look at you in those Mary Janes...
Stop!
What happened to your wife, the dancer?
She's having an affair with our friend, the chiropractor.
Oh...
-Carrie? -Wha-- Uh... What?
I find you adorable.
You're old enough to be my father.
Hardly, would your father wear Versaces?
Pull your pants up now.
Alright, but, cookie, as someone who really cares about you, let me just say,
I think you have some serious issues with men.
I do right now, yes.
An older man can help you work through
some of those father issues, cookie.
Okay, don't "cookie" me, Freud.
Pants up!
Show some respect...
This is Vogue.
Turns out Julian had an agenda as well,
but it was cleverly hidden, of course.
From then on, once a month, when I went to Vogue,
I thought it best to work exclusively with Enid.
Alright, this new piece shows improvement,
but still positively reeks of you.
This magazine doesn't care what Carrie Bradshaw has to say about shoes.
What does Carrie Bradshaw know about shoes?
Enid, with all due respect...
Men, I may not know...
But shoes?
Shoes, I know!
I'm walking.
Oh, I'm walking.
I admit, it's tempting to wish for the perfect boss,
or the perfect parent, or the perfect outfit.
But maybe the best any of us can do
is not quit,
play the hand we've been given,
and accessorize the outfit we've got.