Each week, as Carrie makes her way through the urban jungle, she gets splashed by a bus. Oh, the horror of the big bad city! And what a senseless ruin of a Patricia Field's thrift-store-purchased tutu. But wait. That bus has her image plastered on the side of it. What is Carrie's worst nightmare? The city? Or Carrie herself?! Why do we as a culture feel the need to give a sexually liberated woman a metaphorical cold shower of humiliation? Thank god we have chicks like Carrie and shows like Sex and the City to help us break free from our post-Victorian hang-ups!
"A Woman's Right to Shoes" is the title of tonight's episode. And I'm all, uh-oh! Abortion theme! The right to choose? Pro-choice? That's not going to be bawdy fun comedy! Why oh why did Alex take this week off and leave me with tonight's show? But no. It's a pun. You'll see.
Carrie is shopping. But not for herself, you see. She's a single New Yorker and, like most single New Yorkers, finds herself buying lots of gifts for her "formerly single" friends. Armed with a new Vogue and some fresh flowers, and wearing an off-the-shoulder white top with poppy-colored oriental designs all over it that's trimmed with some wiry/fuzzy black stuff and a nineties Barbra Streisand super-straight hairdo, Carrie enters a Williams-Sonoma-type store and buys a "Newport Soup Ladle" from the "Welker registry." Cut to Carrie, but in a different outfit -- fatigue jumpsuit and braids -- and a different store asking for a "Burpie Blanket" off of yet another registry list. Then she's in a glassware shop, dressed in a fitted white tube top with black cheetah spots all over it. The hair is up, and she's asked what gifts are "left." By the time she's bought espresso cups from yet another registry -- dressed down in a vintage "Yes" t-shirt, simple ponytail, and sunglasses -- you can tell she's getting a little burnt out. But she finally gives us the "upward hair blow of exasperation" once she buys a "L'il Me Activity Chair" from yet another baby store. Life is tough for best-selling sex advice columnist/authors who live in Manhattan and hang with the jet set.
Cut to one of those old-fashioned elevators that's a metal cage containing Carrie and Stanford. Yay! My boyfriend Stanford is back! Carrie explains via voice-over that she and Stanford are headed for a baby shower for the "latest son" of her friends Kyra and Chuck. Carrie has finally done something about her roots, and her hair is still looking good, as it has been for the past few episodes. Stanford, still bald, is wearing a green plaid suit that resembles the upholstery on a Knights of Columbus rec-room couch. They are both bearing huge gifts. Carrie asks "Stannie" what he's got in the box. Stanford proudly explains that he has a Peter Rabbit dish set with matching bib and a CD of Free to Be You and Me. You know, there were many things that sucked about being born in 1969: Going to junior high in the eighties and basically learning that your future sex life was going to be forever tainted by this new disease called AIDS; having friends named "Rainbow" and "Moonbeam" by their hippie parents; spending your teen years caught in the Reagan Administration; and of course graduating from college during that grisly recession in the early nineties. Despite all of that, growing up in the seventies was actually pretty cool because of stuff like Free to be You and Me, a forward-thinking children's album and companion book that taught children feminism and other socially progressive concepts…but in a really cute way.
This inspires Carrie to reminisce about listening to FTBYAM during the fifth grade. First off? No one listened to FTBYAM during the fifth grade. First grade, sure. Second grade, if a teacher made you. But by fifth grade, if you didn't have an ABBA record on that turntable, you were nowheresville. You might as well be showing up to school in your pee-stained foot pajamas. Also? If Carrie was in fifth grade when FTBYAM was released, I was eleven when Justin Timberlake broke up with Britney Spears and released his first solo album. Carrie really liked the story of Atalanta, the girl who ran "as fast as the wind." And not to get all Allan Bloom on your asses, but I just wanted to interject here that while Atalanta was a nice feminist parable, it wasn't a particularly faithful retelling of the Atalanta myth according to, say, Edith Hamilton or anyone else of her ilk.
Predictably, Stanford reminisces about the song "William wants a doll" -- the song that teaches you that it's okay for boys to play with dolls. Oooh. That brings back painful memories. When I first heard this song, I didn't exactly know I was gay, but I did have that vague feeling that most nubile gay boys did that I was "not like other boys," and this song seemed to be speaking directly to me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. I also take issue with the fact that William is portrayed as some boy who is simply "more nurturing" than his male counterparts. Bullshit! As a child, I played with dolls, but only so I could dress them up in fabulous clothes and do stuff to their hair. As a gay boy, I was hardly any more "nurturing" than my straight friends. I was just…gay. Anyway, Stanford brags that he played that song so many times, he almost turned his sister into a gay man. See, I nearly turned my sister into a lesbian. There wasn't a lot of money in my family back then, and I wanted to go to an expensive college that we couldn't afford. I figured that if Gabrielle graduated from high school with this intense desire to, say, join the army or the police academy, the lion's share of our college fund would be mine, all mine. I gave her Holly Near albums and a subscription to Sports Illustrated. Didn't work.
Anyway, they finally arrive at the groovy loft where the party is getting started. They are greeted by Margo, Kyra's sister, who is a poor man's Alicia Witt. She explains that the gifts go on the table and the shoes go "over there," and points to a big pile of shoes by the door. Carrie gets the same look on her face that Meryl Streep got in Auschwitz when the Gestapo guy told her she could keep either her son or her daughter. Margo explains that Kyra and Chuck don't like outside dirt being tracked inside. "The twins are always picking things off the floor," she explains brightly. "This…is…an…outfit," says Carrie, holding her big present above her head so that Margo can take in the total composition of her mauve fitted halter top, black bra, and bottle-green skirt that curiously makes her look like she doesn't have a waist. And strangely, the camera doesn't pan down to include the shoes so that we, the viewers, can see what kind of miracle work the shoes do for this ensemble. "They'd really appreciate it," says PoorMan'sAliciaWitt in a perky yet aggressive manner before running off to attend to something. "Good thing I wore my party socks," says Stanford, following orders. "If I'd known I was going to have to go shoeless, I'd have compensated with a big hat," retorts Carrie. Oh, like Carrie needs an excuse like mandatory shoelessness to wear something insane. Tell me another one! A close-up reveals Carrie's feet leaving the glorious confines of a pair of pearly Manolo Blahniks. "Now I'm so teeny, I might bump my head on the coffee table," says Carrie, feeling less-than without her spike heels. Carrie explains in a voice-over that Kyra, the mother being "showered," used to be famous in the early nineties for "taking pictures of anorexic actresses on beds at the Chelsea Hotel." I take that as a shout-out to Nan Golding and/or Corrine Day. "But now," says Carrie, "she takes pictures of fat babies in buckets."
Kyra enters, and the guest star playing her is none other than Academy-Award-winning actress Tatum O'Neal. She greets Carrie and Stanford, gives them a couple of drinks in martini glasses, makes a snarky remark about her husband's ear piercing from the eighties, and runs off to get drinks for the other guests. "And by 'guests,'" she says conspiratorially. "I mean 'me.'" You see, Tatum may be a mother, but she still drinks. Meanwhile, according to a friend of mine who used to color her hair, the real Tatum is a mother who still does heroin. When she leaves, Stanford and Carrie notice that their drinks are "garnished" with tiny plastic babies. "Waiter," says Stanford. "There's a baby in my drink." Save it for the Catskills, Stan.
Cut to Miranda's building, where there is a co-op board meeting taking place in someone's apartment. Miranda is asking the assembled board members not to needlessly prolong their decision on a man named Dr. Robert Leeds. "I have a baby downstairs getting over the chicken pox," she explains, sipping a cup of coffee. "I have cataracts," says a grouchy old lady board member. Ah, there's one of those in every Manhattan co-op board, isn't there? Dr. Leeds arrives for his interview, and lo and behold…he's black! He's also played by Blair Underwood, so he's hot too. Miranda's face lights up as she introduces herself. Now have you ever noticed that when a white woman finds a black man attractive, she is just soooo proud of herself for having a socially progressive lust object that she is really really obvious about it? Like for instance, my mother and some friends of hers went to see Crimes of the Heart, and afterwards they were commenting on the movie and talking about how cute Sam Shepard was. Everyone nodded in agreement, but when someone brought up the black teenager that Sissy Spacek was schtupping, everyone was all, "Oh yeah, sister! Break me off a piece a that! Woo hoo!" You'd think these fifty-something women were all at a bachelor party. My black friend Pam would always talk about this phenomenon and how whenever she was talking to a white woman, she would always have to work a former black male lover into the conversation. But she'd always really be subtle about it. "You know, I had this really really hot…lover," she'd say, twisting a strand of hair playfully with her finger. "His name was Rufus and he was fi-i-i-i-i-i-ne. The most beautiful brown eyes I'd ever seen!" "So he was black?" Pam would ask after about twenty minutes of hints. "Oh yeah, I guess he was, but it's not like I noticed. And you know who else I think is hot? The bartender on Love Boat! Oh, and Billy Dee Williams."
Anyway, Miranda is doing just this sort of thing. I mean, when she's lusting after a white man, she's cautiously flirtatious, but now that she's breaking the color barrier, she's practically flashing beaver at him. Dr. Leeds introduces himself to the group and makes a crack about them already knowing who he is, as well as his "social security and my jacket size." Miranda laughs uproariously as this joke. Everyone else is silent. Miranda ascertains that Dr. Leeds is a doctor for the Knicks. As the other board people try to ask concrete questions about finances and his personal habits, Miranda makes small talk about professional sports and confesses to being a Yankees fan, despite Dr. Leeds being a Mets fan.
Meanwhile, over at Charlotte's, Harry is on a business call and absentmindedly plucking a tea bag from his teacup and placing it on his newspaper. With a tight smile on her face, Charlotte walks over, grabs the wet tea bag, and takes it to the kitchen in order to throw it away. "Charlotte knew when Harry moved in he would unpack his bags," says Carrie's voice-over. "But she wasn't expecting tea bags." On her way to the trashcan, Charlotte encounters yet another tea bag. She chucks them both in the under-the-sink trashcan.
Meanwhile, back at Miranda's, the interrogation is just about over for Dr. Leeds. Miranda leads him to the door and shakes his hand goodbye. "I won't hold that Mets thing against you," says Miranda in a breathy flirty voice as she opens the door for him. "I appreciate that," says Dr. Leeds, giving her a quick up-down with his eyes. Miranda giggles girlishly and closes the door behind him. "He's perfect," says Miranda with her back against the door. It's like she's describing a puppy she really really wants to adopt. A board member expresses discomfort with his financials and steep alimony payments. Another board member points out that he's never owned before. "You people are crazy!" says Miranda. Cataracts Lady doesn't like the fact that he's single and that he'll inevitably throw "parties with all the girls." "I think we all know what's not being said here," says Miranda, putting her hand on her hip, obviously referring to Dr. Leeds's blackness. The board looks back at her, slightly confused. "The unspoken thing was that Robert was cute…and Miranda was horny," interjects Carrie's VO.
Back at the baby shower cum sock hop, it's getting late. Most of the guests have left, and everyone remaining has retired to the living room. Tatum's husband is smoking a fat joint, and Tatum is telling the most uproarious story about how they outbid someone on a Hamptons summer home and ended up not getting a reservation at "Nick and Toni's" for the entire summer. "I swear I had no idea who I was bidding against," says Husband of Tatum, coyly. Those of us who read Page Six know that Husband of Tatum outbid Jeff Salaway, the owner of Nick and Toni's, which is, for those of you uninitiated into the customs of the Hamptons, the center of Hamptons society. Carrie and Stanford are clearly getting bored with all this extreme Manhattan name-dropping and decide to leave, citing Stanford's gay need to start his evening at midnight. They make their way to the door, but Carrie can't find her shoes. She goes back into the living room, where Husband of Tatum is joking about "stealing Billy Joel's firewood," and announces that her shoes are missing. "That's cra-a-a-zy," says Husband of Tatum mid-inhale. After a thorough search, the shoes still haven't turned up. Tatum concludes that she can't imagine where Carrie's shoes went. "Jennifer was wearing sandals," says Tatum. "Maybe she took yours by mistake?" Carrie informs Tatum passive-aggressively that she wasn't wearing sandals, she was wearing Blahniks. Tatum magnanimously lends Carrie some shoes to wear home until the Manolos turn up. They cut to the streets of Manhattan for the visual punch line of this scene: Carrie walking home in a pair of ratty Keds. Of course, we the viewers are supposed to be scandalized over Carrie's footwear, but I can't help but express my complete horror over the leggings beneath Carrie's skirt that we haven't had the pleasure of seeing until this very moment. Unless I am mistaken, I believe they have silk-screened images of Liza Minnelli on them, and they abruptly stop mid-calf like a pair of bicycle shorts that went too far. Those pearly old lady shoes went with that? I now understand why the camera didn't pull back and reveal Carrie's entire outfit in that first scene. Carrie makes an obvious joke about "walking a mile in someone else's shoes."
The day, or sometime thereafter, the Vagina Squad lunches at some brasserie-style place -- probably Pastis or Balthazar. Carrie still isn't over the loss of her shoes. "These were new Manolos. I hadn't even done a full lap around the party!" she explains over dessert. Charlotte can't believe someone would steal shoes from a party. Samantha is intrigued as to why Carrie removed her shoes at the party in the first place. Carrie explains that Tatum and Husband of Tatum didn't want her tracking germs into the house that would make their children sick. "Please," says Miranda. "It's children who drag the germs around!" Miranda goes onto explain that Brady caught the chicken pox from someone on the playground. "Tatum must have been mortified," says the ever so socially conscious Charlotte. Carrie explains that Tatum wasn't all that concerned. Samantha concludes that Carrie will never get her shoes back, as they are in a "pawn shop in Brooklyn." "Stop," says Carrie. "You'll make me cry into my flan." Okay, Carrie. You're eating a Spanish dessert. Spanish cuisine is hot right now. We. Get. It. Miranda notes that, "legally," Tatum owes her for them. Carrie doesn't want to go there with Tatum. Samantha argues that if Tatum's baby were missing instead of Carrie's shoes, Tatum would make a fuss. Charlotte is all, "Children aren't shoes!" Samantha goes off on a rant about children and how they're everywhere like vermin -- even classy places like Jean Georges. Jeez, she's sounding like the mayor of that town in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. To illustrate her point, an exuberant child runs by their table with chocolate all over his face. "This place is for double cappuccinos, not double strollers," says Samantha. Ew. Bad line.
Miranda is surprisingly sympathetic to Sam's rant. "I wouldn't bring Brady here," she says. "Mommy needs two hands to eat her eight-dollar cake." What's with Miranda and cake? Charlotte is surprised that Miranda, a mother, is not going to defend children. Miranda confesses that she doesn't like children except for Brady. Carrie asks Charlotte how the "matrimonial move-in" is going. Charlotte says she's ecstatic, but admits that they're having a "tea-bag situation." Samantha advises that Charlotte breathe through her nose. Everyone looks at Samantha in utter confusion. "When you're sucking his balls?" explains Samantha. Oh, remember when this show used to introduce gay sex acts into the American lexicon on a regular basis? To be honest, I never got the whole "tea-bagging" thing. I always thought it was a cute name, but I never really understood what anyone saw in the actual act -- giving or receiving. I mean, sure, balls are sensitive -- especially when someone kicks you down there. But as sexual pleasure spots, I can think of twenty-five other parts of the body that I'd much rather have stimulated, thank you. Plus, because they spend so much time between trapped between your thighs in the dark, they can smell pretty skanky. Charlotte clutches her pearls and explains that she was literally talking about the tea bags that Harry leaves around the house that threaten to stain her furniture. Miranda wants to know why putting a man's balls in your mouth is called tea-bagging. She stops in the middle of her question because the answer dawns on her. "Oh, I get it," says Miranda. "Because they hang! And the dipping!" I love it when Miranda and Samantha get along. Charlotte shushes them. Carrie announces that, in addition to her shoes, she has also lost her appetite.
Back at the York/Goldenblatt residence, Harry is helping Charlotte put the dishes away and expressing his joy at living with her. Charlotte is touched, until Harry puts yet another tea bag down on the counter. Lines start forming around Charlotte's eyes until Harry asks her what's wrong. Charlotte points out the tea bags and how Harry leaves them around the house and this threatens to stain the furniture. Harry is totally contrite and throws away his tea bag. "I've been trying to watch my ass now that I've been living in your house," says Harry. "Our house," corrects Charlotte. Harry explains that he's basically a "bull in a china shop." "A bull in our china shop," corrects Charlotte. Harry makes pre-stampede bull grunts at her. Aw!
Back at Miranda's building, Miranda is getting on the elevator with her groceries. An unseen voice tells her to hold the door. It's her new neighbor Dr. Leeds. "Hey, Yankee," he says to her playfully when he realizes it's Miranda. Miranda welcomes Dr. Leeds to the building, hinting forcefully that he owes her big-time for supporting his application. Dr. Leeds gets quiet and moves his face near hers. "You have a pock," he says, studying her face. Miranda explains that she probably got it from her kid. "I thought you were single," says Dr. Leeds. "I am," says Miranda, letting him know surreptitiously that she's not against pre-marital sexual relations. They go up to her apartment so he can treat her pock with calamine lotion. He also meets and plays with Brady, making the observation that he looks just like Miranda. He means it as a compliment, but I have to point out that Brady is turning into one homely baby. Miranda hands him a cotton ball and some calamine lotion and he goes to work on her face. Miranda melts under his doctoral caress. The mood is interrupted by Magda, who greets Dr. Leeds coldly, takes Brady, and gives Miranda a knowing look. Dr. Leeds finds another pock on Miranda's face and puts lotion on it. He orders her not to scratch. "For Miranda," says Carrie's VO, "Dr. Robert was just what the doctor ordered." Groan.
Carrie drops by Tatum's, much to Tatum's surprise. Like, the doorman didn't announce her? She didn't call first? Tatum isn't at all annoyed that Carrie appears without warning at her doorstep? What is this, Dogpatch? "I was in the neighborhood and I thought you might want these back," says Carrie, handing Tatum back her Keds and shifting her weight from foot to foot in her multicolored sundress accessorized by a Playboy Bunny bowtie. "You didn't have to return these," says Tatum generously. "I had forgotten all about them!" Carrie asks if there is "any news on [her] shoes." Groan. Tatum says no. Carrie asks if Jennifer's sandals turned up. Tatum is confused at the mention of Jennifer, as she has totally forgotten what Jennifer's sandals have to do with anything. Carrie explains that if Jennifer took Carrie's shoes, she might have left her sandals behind. Tatum brightly explains that she hasn't heard from her. "Oh my gosh," says Tatum, suddenly shifting gears. "I feel like such a shit! I should have offered to pay for them." Carrie pretends to protest. Tatum invites her in. When Carrie enters, Tatum gives Carrie's feet an aggressive grin to remind Carrie to remove her shoes.
Tatum gets her checkbook and asks how much the shoes cost. Carrie answers that they cost $485. Tatum is astounded that Carrie's shoes cost that much. "I'll give you $200," says Tatum, astounded that Carrie would spend so much on shoes. Carrie points out that Tatum herself used to wear Blahniks and knows perfectly well now much they cost. Tatum replies that she wore Blahniks back before she "had a real life." Now that she has "real responsibilities" like children and homes, she is over such frivolous behavior. Carrie argues that she too has a "real life." Tatum holds fast to her belief that she shouldn't have to pay for Carrie's "extravagant lifestyle." "It was your choice to buy shoes that were that expensive," says Tatum, holding one of her precious rugrats in her arms. "Yes," says Carrie. "But it wasn't my choice to take them off." "They're just shoes," scoffs Tatum.
Later on the phone with Miranda, Carrie explains that Tatum "shoe-shamed her." Miranda, who has totally succumbed to the chicken pox, replies that Tatum is a "fucking bitch." Carrie explains that Tatum wasn't always a bitch, but that ever since she had kids, it's like she had a lobotomy. Miranda is still adamant that Tatum owes her for the shoes. Carrie argues that it's not about the shoes. "It's about a woman's right to shoes!" Hey, what a brilliant pun! That should be the title of this week's episode or something. Hey, wait… The conversation turns to Miranda's chicken pox, how hellish they are and how she wants to scratch them. "If there wasn't a Jules and Mimi marathon on BBC America this weekend, I'd have jumped out the window," whines Miranda. Unless I'm mistaken, Jules and Mimi is a fictive series about an interracial couple that Miranda has been watching while she convalesces. "Speaking of handsome black men," says Carrie, "have you spotted any more of Dr. Robert?" Miranda replies that she's laying low because she doesn't feel attractive. "Is it bad that my life is filled with shoes instead of children?" asks Carrie, bringing it back to her. Miranda assures Carrie that she's in the right and Tatum is "a fucking bitch." Carrie looks into an empty shoebox and VOs about how she is "no longer 'free to be you and me'" now that her life choices aren't being validated. Groan. And also? Since when has Carrie been single by choice? I was under the impression that Carrie would be perfectly happy to be married -- it's the men in her life that don't want to make that commitment.
Speaking of freedom, now that the teabag thing is cleared up, Harry is now annoying Charlotte by walking around naked. One morning, he walks into the kitchen buck naked and makes a grand display of throwing away his tea bag. "Are you going to take a shower?" asks Charlotte. "In a little while," replies Harry, grabbing a piece of fruit, wandering over to the TV, and placing his bare butt on a white upholstered chair, much to Charlotte's horror. Later, as an instrumental version of "Mack the Knife" plays -- groan! -- Harry is still happily naked and working at his laptop. Charlotte is yet again horrified. Later, in a scene laden with Bobbit-style imagery, Charlotte fetches a pair of scissors from a drawer as Harry stands by, still naked and reading the paper. Carrie's voice-over explains that Charlotte wanted Harry to feel comfortable in her apartment, but not that comfortable.
Carrie decides to call Tatum one last time to clear the air. Tatum is clearly over the incident and accuses Carrie of having too much time on her hands. While Tatum puts down the phone in order to put her son's pants back on, Tatum's little girl gets on the phone and asks Carrie if she's "Santa." Then she hangs up on Carrie.
"You know what?" asks Carrie of Charlotte later, as they walk down the street eating frozen yogurt. "I am Santa." She explains that she's given Tatum over $2300 worth of gifts for her various engagements, weddings, and baby showers -- i.e. things that celebrate Tatum's life choices." Charlotte points out that those were gifts. "If you got married or had a child, she'd spend the same on you!" says Charlotte. "And if I don't get married or have a child, I get bubkes?" asks Carrie, explaining that after college graduation, there are no events in a single woman's life where people celebrate her. "We have birthdays," interjects Charlotte. "We all have birthdays," says Carrie. "That's a wash." She goes on to decry the fact that Hallmark doesn't make a card congratulating you for "not marrying the wrong guy" and that she doesn't get flatware when she goes on vacation alone. Um, Carrie? Not that you don't have a point, but may I remind you that you've never thrown a "I didn't get married to the wrong guy" shower or a bon voyage party for a vacation you took by yourself? If you had, I'm sure your wealthy friends would have bought you something expensive, so shut up. Furthermore, if one of your friends took the bull by the horns and threw you a "yay, you're single!" party, you'd be mortally offended, so again, shut up! Carrie concludes that she's not going to get anything from Tatum until she gets married.
Poor Samantha. If she doesn't get laid in some spectacularly tacky way, there really isn't anything else for her to do, is there? Tonight, for instance, Sam is merely going to have one scene for her own "subplot," and thematically it's going to be piggybacked onto Carrie's. While Sam is trying to have a high-powered discussion on her cell phone while eating lunch in a swanky restaurant, a mother coos at the table about how good her son is for "eating his pesto." Meanwhile, the bratty kid is making all kinds of childish noise. A waiter comes over to tell Samantha that they don't allow cell phones inside the restaurant. Samantha complies, shutting off her phone, but asks the waiter what he plans to do about the noisy kid at the table. "There's nothing we can do about that," says the waiter. "That's a child." Samantha walks over and asks the mother to take her child somewhere "more appropriate." Before the mother can respond, her child lobs a fistful of pasta at Sam, ruining her white business suit. "That wasn't very nice," says the mother insincerely to her child. Samantha is all, "I made my point. And he made his." And with that, she marches out of the restaurant. What? That was all we heard from Samantha this week? Whatever.
Charlotte comes home from a day of…whatever she does now that she doesn't have a job and she's completed her Jewish conversion training, and finds Harry already home and already naked. "Do you know what we need to bring back into this house?" asks Harry, brandishing his old-fashioned glass. "Cocktail hour!" Geddit? Groan. "Charlotte realized that there was something grosser than tea bags all over the house," says Carrie's VO. "And that was her husband's 'tea bags' all over her white couch." "Harry!" whines Charlotte as he sits down on said white couch -- a bouquet of flowers strategically placed to hide his jewels. Charlotte explains that she feels bad that she's not less rigid, and that she really wants Harry to be himself in their new home. Harry offers to put on clothes. Charlotte explains that she's fine with the nakedness; she's just concerned about her furniture. "We've got an ass/white couch situation," observes Harry, offering to put on shorts. Charlotte is ecstatic over Harry's willingness to fall in line. They kiss. Charlotte gently reminds Harry to go put on those aforementioned shorts. "Love you!" she calls out as he walks toward the bedroom. When he's out of the room, she gives the couch a cleansing "whisk" with her hands.
Back at Miranda's, Miranda is lounging in front of the television in an orange caftan. Dr. Leeds drops by. At first, Miranda pretends she's not home because she feels self-conscious about her face, but when Dr. Leeds yells that he can see her feet under the door, she has no choice but to let him in. After some small talk, he asks her what she's watching. "It's just Jules and Mimi," says Miranda nervously. "It's silly." He insists on watching with her anyway since his cable isn't hooked up yet. They sit down, Miranda un-pauses, and they both watch Jules, a black man, and Mimi, a white woman, get it on. They both get slightly uncomfortable watching, and Miranda starts to scratch at her pox.
Meanwhile, Carrie is "tired of waiting for a ring," so she "gives someone else one." Groan. She calls up Tatum and tells her answering machine -- naturally, the outgoing message is left by Tatum's kids -- that she's getting married…to herself. No comment. She adds that she's registered at Manolo Blahnik's, and hangs up. "One giant step for me," says Carrie. "One small step for single-womankind." Actually, I think you got that backwards, Carrie. Just saying. we see Tatum with kids in tow at Manolo Blahnik's, buying Carrie the very same shoes she lost at her party. "Could you please watch your children?" asks the salesgirl. "We don't want them touching the shoes." Tatum is all, whatever. Carrie receives her gift in the mail along with a nice note from Tatum wishing Carrie happiness with herself. We close with Carrie bouncing down the street in her new Blahniks, talking about how hard it is to "walk in a single woman's shoes." But apparently the right shoes make the walk "a little more fun."