Cha cha cha! Splash-y bus.
The door to Carrie's apartment opens. She's in a pink skirt and black blouse, with actual strands of pearls instead of that played tromp l'oeil thing Elizabeth Hasselback and everyone used to do. She enters with mail in her mouth (ew), and she VOs something about "searching for the perfect male." And so, it begins: the groaning, the puns, the obvious lines, and the repeated notion that all women really want is a MAYUN to fill the void inside us. I mean, god. In a sense, it's true and it fits and the show is at times apt and funny, and in another sense, it makes me want to scream "GET A LIFE!" and "SHUT UP, CARRIE," and throw away my lipsticks and remind every male on the planet that they should be fighting for our companionship, not the other way around. Men should be teetering around on uncomfortable shoes, giving out the oral sex on a regular basis, watching what they eat, shaving. I think men should be portrayed as desperate, and not only once a decade, as in the case of the film Swingers. Men are called "horny," and women "desperate," and it really rankles me. On the other hand, this is a thoroughly modern show, and it has had an impact on the world of women at large. Notice how I said "had." Yeah, S&TC is in the death throes, so step back and watch the final heaving gasps. This one, plus seven more. It should be an interesting two months. Or the other thing. So yeah, Carrie gets a letter from Aleksandr, on lovely stationary, asking her to go for a walk with him. The "perfect mail."
Central Park. Walkage. Carrie is in a taupe velvet coat and blue blouse and purple flouncy prairie skirt (barf) and...pink ankle boots? It's like Stevie Nicks ate Prince, then barfed him up in the Little House on the Prairie. Then Laura Ingalls and Davy Jones had a monster baby and raised it in the dark, dressed it, and sent it out to the park to have a walk with Baryshnikov.
They walk, and he whines about how Carrie didn't fuck him on their first and only date, three weeks ago. Then they sit down, and he whips out chocolates from Lilac, which I love. Milk and dark. She asks if he has a mousetrap in his pocket, his response to which is, "Eh? What's that? A whimsy, you say? The HELL you say!" Yeah, Carrie's not that funny. He asks, "Light or dark?" She takes one and bites it. He bites her neck. Hey, a light reference! It's referencing the title of the episode! Wow, that's awful meaningful!
Perfume counter. The four girlfriends. Together again. Shopping for stinkwater. Char is wondering what smell she is. I'd say Pilgrim by Nicole Miller. Or maybe Old Money, by Ralph Lipschitz. I mean, "Lauren." She asks if she's "peppermint musk," and I shudder. That would be like Charlotte ordering a shot of Goldschlager and a can of Black Label. Char has to be a classic perfume person. Carrie announces that she's "taking a LOVAH. Yes, a LOVAH." Miranda says dubiously, "The old guy?" Yup. Carrie says, "My LOVAH is not old, he is worldly and wise, and very sexy." Straight up, though, he's old. And SJP is thirty-nine. Still hot and well put together, but thirty-nine is not spring chickenly, either. Baryshnikov is probably pushing sixty. Yowee. I could never. I like 'em young. They're just fresher that way. Older dudes have that thousand-yard-stare thing in romantic moments, like they're veterans of a war. The war of looove. But Carrie is too taken with the idea, and the sound of the word "LOVAH," and says it like a hundred more times as the four friends squirt each other, sometimes aggressively, with things called "cucumber basil" and "pomegranate patchouli." Char thinks Aleksandr could be more than a LOVAH, and Carrie says it's only going to "LOVAHville." Oh, really? What about the stops at Handholdington? Snugglesburg? Cuddlewicken? And final stop, Couplehocken? Char asks Mir what's going on with her and Steve. Carrie singsongs something about Mir and Steve "sitting in a tree," always a classic. Then she goes, "First comes BABY." Hey, drink every time they mention the baby! If you see the baby, drink twice. Mir's happy she and Steve are back together. Now let's all have a moment of silence in remembrance of Blair Underwood's sexy naked ass. Sigh.
Elevator, Miranda's building. She and Steve get on, congratulate each other on their "lucky" happiness, and begin to make out. The elevator stops, the doors open, and Robert gets on. He seethes, doesn't say hi, and generally gives off totally hurt-yet-offensive vibes as all three ride down in uncomfortable silence. Mir manages a weak, "Hi." Robert gets out, "Well, if it isn't the happy couple." Steve says, "How are you?" The doors open on the ground floor. Robert steps off, saying sarcastically, "Y'all have a nice day."
Char and Anthony (Mario Cantone, I'm kvelling! I wonder if he ever goes to Dick's Bar?) walk in the park. He begs her to stop yammering about getting preggers with Harry's baby and not bothering to get a job since she's gonna be preggers with the baby, and should she volunteer to do something to kill time before she's pregnant? Seriously. Shut up, Charlotte. He begs her to say something bitchy about someone they both know. That's why I love my friends; I never have to beg them to say something bitchy, nor they of me. It's just an unspoken understanding between us. Love means never having to ask to shit-talk. Then he asks her to "look at the light," and she thought he meant a larger, broader kind of light, like wisdom sort of (ding ding ding!), and he just meant the light in the tree over there. Then Char sees a blind guy (whoop whoop!) and she thinks volunteering for the blind would be cool. What could be worse than being blind on a beautiful day like today? Mario says, "Stone-washed jeans and a matching jacket." Heh. Don't forget the goddamn purple prairie skirt.
Carrie gets a bikini wax, red shoe in the air. She asks the Russian beauty tech how to say "hello" and "thank you" in Russian, and makes "eeeh!" "yaaah!" faces as the tech rips wax out of her coochie. Whatever.
Mir, in a purple hound's-tooth Prada-esque skirt and vintage-looking green woven jacket, takes the stairs down. She runs into Robert, on the way up. She says hi and he dashes up, ignoring her. She's all, "Hey!" and "I guess I deserve that. Steve and I just fell back in love." He's salty. "What was I, the half-time entertainment?" Ooh. I don't often talk about my personal life in recapping this show. Wouldn't it be a cliché, anyway? If you want to read about my love life, do a TWoP search for "Tales from Alex's Harem." They're in the Jake 2.0 recaps. BUT. I had an ex who sort of was the half-time entertainment for one of his exes. I thought it was so lame. I mean, imagine dating someone who had an ex, and they complained about that ex the whole time you were dating. Then they throw you over and go back to the person they were complaining about? It's infuriating. So I can see why Robert's steamed. Mir says she never thought she and Steve would get back together, and she hopes Robert can forgive her. He says sure, and she hopes she won't mind getting his "bill. For services rendered?" His "stud fee." She's all, whaaa? He says he understands. She's a "busy working mom. To busy to cook, call Hunan Kitchen. To busy to fuck? Call Robert. Fast food, fast fuck!" That sounds like Samantha talking. Mir protests that he was not "a fast fuck." Noo. He was "slow. Niice and slow. Just the way [Mir] liked it." Then he does an imitation of Mir in bed, squealing, "Oooh, Robert! No man has ever been this deep!" Oh, that is so uncool, to throw someone else's stupid pillow talk back in her face! He looks like he's enjoying himself. She looks embarrassed beyond belief.
Mir bursts through her apartment door. Steve is playing with Brady. Baby! Drink! Mir blurts out that she gave Robert "custody of the elevator." What? That is retarded. Steve all, you saw Robert? "How bad was it?" She wails, "Huug meee!" He does, and she babbles on about how Robert is "crazy in love" with her and the sexual acting out on the staircase. Steve blanches, then hugs her again.
Carrie and Aleksandr come in from another date. She says "thank you" and "yes" in Russian as they get off the elevator and come into his apartment. His studio is the other half of the floor of the building. He's got a fabulous view, too, which Carrie says is all right "if you like that whole night/sky thing." He says, "There's a lovely light in the morning." Gong gong gong! Oh, and Carrie, I can see your black bra under your satin dress. He asks if she wants "fruit" or a "martini" (maybe a combination of both? Nah, make it a blueberry smoothie and a Manhattan), and she asks to see the bedroom.
Bedroom. Aleksandr unlaces Carrie's dress, but leaves on her bra. They kiss. Then he kisses down her neck and to the small of her back. He lies on his side, kissing her back, as Carrie's face is slightly turned to the side, her wavy hair obscuring her face. Um, weird. Then Carrie VOs that her Russian is crappy but she "speaks lover very well." Ew! Like she was a virgin before or something. Yeah, get back on that bicycle, Carrie! Pedal pedal pedal! Good for you, you're fucking!
Morning. The light twinkles off her sparkly diamond necklace. Another note on great stationery says that Aleksandr is making breakfast. She puts a white shirt on over her black bra and panties, and comes down the stairs to find a staff of three well-dressed Russians, two chicks and a dudeski, yammering emphatically into phones. Carrie, in a BLACK BRA, PANTIES, and a WHITE SHIRT, keeps on down the stairs and sits at the table to have her breakfast, meticulously prepared by Aleksandr. Um, WHAT? You're BARELY DRESSED. It's nuts! He hollers at them, hey, this is Carrie! She barely waves at them. Aleksandr says he's going off to Amsterdam soon, so no pancakes for him, but she can eat. A woman comes over and speaks to Alek in French, then switches to German. Whatever for? Showoff. Carrie chews a mouthful of pancake and goggles. She's in the "International House of Petroskvy." Oy.
Carrie and Samantha walk and talk. Sam admires Alek's pancake-making moves, and congratulates Carrie for having an older man, "a real power player!" Because her love with young Smith Jerrod is getting tedious. "I don't know whether to blow him or burp him!" Oh, for the love of god. Carrie says the pancakes and the sex were "perfect, exactly what I wanted, I couldn't get enough." Then she wonders how many "pancakes that kitchen has seen." Oh my god, probably billions.
Carrie goes home and Googles her LOVAH, because she's paranoid and insecure and it's so easy to look someone up on the internet now. Frankly I can't believe she didn't do this before, like during the three weeks he wasn't sending her notes to walk in the park. Among the Google results is a Vanity Fair article from 1999 about "The Many Loves of Aleksandr Petroskvy," or "Aleksandr the Great." Carrie reads, her eyes popping out of her head comically. Oh my god -- the girl is supposedly in journalism, in media, and she not only uses Google three weeks late, but just sees a Vanity Fair piece about the guy she fucked the night before? Talk about coming late to the party. In her negligee and arm-warmers (the fuck?), she frets and worries. The VO says, "According to some scientists, women release a hormone after they have sex, causing them to emotionally attach." To what? The furniture? Dentures? Steel girders high in the air via a construction worker's helmet? Then she says there are a series of "involuntary questions" that cross a woman's mind after a "tryst," including "Does he like me?" and "Will he call again," and "the classic, 'where is this all going?'" The VO concludes, "Even though we want to be in the light, how do we end up in the dark?" Then she turns out the lamp. Bonk.
Smith, in a "Fuck Yoga" t-shirt (which makes me think of Gustave), bounds over Samantha, who is reclining in bed. She's also in a red see-though lace top and red silk pajama bottoms. Cute. I can totally see her boob. He's been invited to the "Teen Posse party, top thirty under thirty." He's one of them. Sam goes, "Ah." She doesn't see Teen Posse and her going together. He asks her to look at the invite to see "how lame" it will be, and she sees the party is going to be hosted by Richard. Not lame! In fact, cool! In fact, she'll go with him. He says, "Cool," and bounces off the bed. Samantha licks her lips in anticipation. Well, she licks them on the inside. I mean, not literally.
Char sits in a neat-but-cramped cubicle, all Annie Halled out on a vest and tie and men's-style pants. Her boobs look pretty good in the vest, though. She's yammering on to the sympathetic but no doubt heard-it-all-from-bleeding-heart-upper-class-ladies-before cubicle occupant. She can't try to get pregnant again for two months ("So you've said," interrupts the cubicle occupant) so she has ALL this free time on her hands! Care to take some of it off, before she gets a blister? Cubicle Occupant says that she suggests all "potential volunteers" take a try at being blind: go to a public place like a park or department store (think of the potential product placement!) blindfolded, and have a friend lead her around. Now, if only Char could find a friend.
Char and Carrie enter Barney's. The potential for product placement is vast. Hey, is that the Kiehl's counter? Ooh, purses! Et cetera. Carrie is yammering on about Aleksandr. According to her "new best friend, Google," he's dated "every woman in Manhattan from 1977 to last Wednesday." And how many other pancakes has he made for how many other women? And Carrie's only slept with him once! Well, when you're older than dirt, you end up getting a little something under your nails. What, she wanted to date a 58-year-old virgin? Maybe Carrie would like it if every guy she dated stepped fresh from the womb with no prior history or baggage -- like a drinking glass at a hotel with a little paper cup on it. Then she could break the seal and know for sure she was treading on purer ground than the rest of us. Oh, and Carrie? Shut up. Now, it's "time to get blind." Char whips out a Burberry sleep mask and dons it with aplomb. The sight of it is both ridiculous and dignified. It's pure Charlotte. And I think I'd love a Pucci sleep mask. I'll have to check eBay for one. Then Carrie's cell phone rings -- it's a European code! She has to answer, it's HIM! And the reception is terrible over here, so she has to wander over there! Leaving Charlotte alone! Everyone in Barneys is both oblivious to the fact that Char is wearing a sleep mask, and rude enough to bump into a woman right in front of them. Char comically feels her way around and excuses herself after each little bump.
Carrie, on the phone, makes a date with Aleksandr for the following evening. When she hangs up, there's no sight of Charlotte, in spite of her siren call, "Sweetie?" Carrie? You really should have shut up.
Char gets a dose of Lumiere perfume right in her Burberry-sleep-masked face. Oh! Then she fumble-feels her way over to a shoe sale. Which is also where Carrie wound up. Char removes the mask to see her so-called friend trying on a cute pair of heels. Carrie waves and said she noticed Char had wandered away, and had looked, then thought, "Better she find me."
Wow, it looks like hipster ground zero. There's far too many trucker hats, teeny kilts, and ponytails. Hey, it's the Hudson Hotel! I've stayed there, when I won a Jane magazine contest. It was pretty awesome; Gustave stayed with me, and one night Couch Baron came over to hang by the fireplace. It was during CMJ, in 2002, and I saw Cody Chestnutt playing pool. He looked delicious, and like trouble. Plus, all the bellhops at all the Ian Schrager hotels are hotties. It was a fun trip. Anyhow, the abundance of trucker hats means we're at the 30 under 30 party. Samantha stands forlornly with Smith, a faded rose among the too-young-for-Botox-but-still-tacky set. Can't they cut to the front of the line? Smith doesn't feel comfortable doing that. Sam grabs him by the arm and drags him to the front of the line anyway. The door guy, in one of those hilarious tuxedo t-shirts and a red jacket, recognizes Smith and kvells. But Sam gets an "And you are?" Richard materializes to say, "Samantha Jones." Sam preens accordingly. And bleah, Richard has had some plastic surgery and looks faker than plastic seat covers. Richard removes the velvet rope to let in Sam, but closes it after she enters. Smith drops a little unconvincing, "Dude?" It lands like a fart in a duck pond. Sam says quickly, "He's with me." Oh. The three of them move off to the bar.
Inside the Hudson, it's minis and trucker hats galore. Couldn't they have gone to, say, a Peaches show, or maybe Black Betty in Brooklyn? Everything on this show is so groomed and sanitized. Not everyone has a Brazilian, you know. Sometimes the world better with a little variation. Sam and Richard have a scotch and chat nastily with each other. He asks how long she's been baby-sitting. She says, "Says the man hosting the Teen Posse party." Hey, hotels have to stay hip, which is why he's "bending over backwards to tongue the taints of these trendy little piss-ants." Wow, what great humility. And that respect for others! You must do a ton of yoga. Or maybe he works for Television Without Pity! Coooool. Sam says he looks good, and he shoots back, "That's 'cause I'm looking at you, gorgeous." Ew. Smith wanders up, declines a scotch (he's in AA, remember?), and asks how they know each other. Well, they used to be totally in love. Then Richard cheated on her, and Sam was crushed beyond belief. Of course, they say it much more casually than that. Michael Kors model Maggie Rizer and one of her cute gal-pals leap up and wrap their arms around Smith, urging him to come quick. "Paulie is snorting pretzels out his nose! You have to come see! Paulie, do it again!" Smith obliges. Richard says snidely, "Paulie is snorting pretzels out his nose!" Sam says, "Fuck you." Oh, the joie de vivre. I can't stand it!
The elevator door opens, and a weary Miranda and Steve come staggering out. I feel them: moving sucks. Even with an elevator. Steve says, "Okay! This is the last load." Then he sees the TV. The screen is smashed, as neatly as the Beaver broke a window with a baseball, back in the olden days. Mir sees, plotzes, then gasps: Robert. He saw Steve's name on the boxes, he lives in the building...there's motive plus opportunity, i.e. one angry ex-b.f. plus a TV out in the open equals smashy-smashy. Though a cool character like Robert? Even after the hallway freak-out? I don't know. I can't buy that he broke a TV out of heartbreak. That's too Judge Judy, and he's a classy L.A. Law kind of guy. Debbie could have done it. Even Steve's Maaaa is suspect. Nobody leaves this lobby! Miranda is beside herself. "You didn't see him on the stairs! He's CRAZY...in love with me." Steve says, "This is bullshit. I'm not going to live like this!" And he marches off to confront Robert. I can practically hear the soap bubbles popping as Mir, chest heaving theatrically, says, "Be kind! He's still in love with me!" Oh, lord. Who is this red-headed nightmare, and what has she done with my Miranda?
Stave pounds on Robert's apartment door. Robert opens it, pulling on his robe and looking only the slightest bit put out. He greets Steve cordially. Steve looks confused instantly. This is the crazy guy? Look, he just wants to tawk to him about Miwanda. Robert is okay with that. Then Steve sees a beautiful woman in scanty lingerie slip past the open door into the bedroom. Robert says he'll be right there, baby. Steve's flustered look goes up a notch. Then, another woman in lingerie sneaks by to the bedroom. Steve's look moves past befuddlement to a strange kind of awed respect. Then he apologizes -- for everything, on behalf of Miranda, sorry, sorry. Robert says he appreciates that, beams widely, then closes the door in Steve's face. And that's the end of that!
Mir, still rooted to her spot in the lobby, watches the elevator as it opens, returning Steve to her arms. He walks off the elevator with the barest hint of a smile. She steps forward and whispers, all Lifetime-television-for-women-y, "Was he very upset?" Steve says, "Let's just say he won't be bothering us anymore." Then they suck face. Ew! Was that a romantic moment for them? Oh, right. The Lifetime-television-for-women-y thing.
Carrie, completely Alicia-Silverstone-in-Clueless in her periwinkle beret and short-sleeve silk sweater over a long-sleeved white shirt, knocks on Aleksandr's door. It opens, and an elegant hand snakes out from behind the partially opened door, holding a giant pair of wooden shoes. Carrie giggles moronically. Then his finger snakes out and beckons her inside. She takes the shoes and follows the finger's instructions. I wish she'd follow my finger's instructions. It doesn't say as nice a thing.
Back at the Hudson, Sam and Richard stride purposefully to the elevators. Smith pops out and asks where they're going. Um. To fuck? Well, Sam says, Richard wanted to show her one of the newly refinished suites. "Cool." Can Smith come? Um, no. Then Sam does the meanest thing I've ever seen her do. She crushes Smith's heart. His good, sweetly earnest heart. She says, "Look, this has been fun, but where is it going?" What does that even mean? Smith is so good to her. And Richard was a cad. What is she doing? Smith, in his completely expressionless way, stands stunned and wounded. Sam says, "You go play with your friends, and I'll go play with mine." Then she joins Richard on the elevator. Ouch!
Inside one of the Hudson's teeny suites, Richard pumps away at Sam. He has a whispered monologue about how, two years ago, he was on the top of the fucking world, and now he has to throw these parties, but oh well, he's been lower than this before. He pumps away, and Sam just looks like she lost her best friend.
Sam rides down on the elevator alone. Her face says it all: She made a big mistake. She hurt Smith. Now she hurts. And how can she ever make it right again? When the elevator doors open, she sees Smith, waiting for her. He shrugs and says he just wanted to make sure she got home safe. Sam smiles wryly and says she doesn't know why she just did that, and that she hates herself for doing so, and just as her voice breaks into tears Smith sweeps her up in his arms. It's really very touching. Though why Smith would let Sam treat him this way is beyond me. Oh, right: he's totally in love with her.
It's after the afterglow. Meaning, Carrie and he already DID IT. He stuck his penis in her vagina, then pulled it out, then stuck it in, then pulled it out. If I were in the room with you, I'd draw you a picture. Aleksandr rises from bed and says he wants to work in his studio, and Carrie's welcome to stay, if she wants. Now personally, I love a little alone time after sex. Cuddling is good, but I really cherish my privacy. And the fact that he's so inspired to work after lovemaking is, I think, very flattering. It's not like he's dying to snort coke off the blade of a knife or something. He wants to make art after making love. That's cool. But Carrie is "not that comfortable in Loverville. [She's] not that kind of Google." Oh, GROAN! She gets out of bed, all curly-haired, and when she emerges from his apartment fully dressed, she's got straight hair. Like magic! The magic of television. I love you, television. She walks resignedly to Alek's studio, knocks, then enters. When she does, her face is brightly lit. He's working on making a light wall, like in Justin Timberlake's video for "Rock Your Body." Except there's a guy in his fifties in front of it instead of Mister JT. Carrie says lamely that she's "not cut out" for the "pancakes and the other ladies." Oh, Jesus. That article was from 1999! Pre-2001! Do you hear what I'm screaming? He could read your old columns and say the same thing about you! Carrie was not wearing that little paper cup that comes on hotel drinking glasses when he met her now, was she? She's acting like it. He says he has a "leetle book with emergency phone numbers," but now he just sees her. Because he likes her, and he slaps her arm. It's his attempt at lightness. OY. I just did it. She smiles and asks an annoying question: "Why me?" He says, "Why ME!" She says because he makes a good breakfast. Then she asks what the light bulb wall of art is. He says, "It's too soon to tell." Then they both turn into the light bulbs and I think, seven more to go! Thank god.