Cha, cha cha, cha cha. Cha, cha cha, cha cha. Blow, sultry saxophone, blow. The third-to-last episode, she is here.
As a preamble, I just want to say that this was probably my favorite episode of S&TC ever. Ev. Er. So when I bust on it, please know that I do it with love. In past years when I busted on the show, I was coming from another place. But now, somehow, I've transitioned into a space where I find the show and its characters have grown, as if without me seeing it. A very gradual process. In this episode in particular, Carrie has really changed. I see Carrie as being part of a couple, which even with Aidan she never seemed to be. I see her standing up to her friends, when before she whined to them and pleaded for their advice. Most importantly, she stops questioning, gives up a big part of her sort-of inconsequential life, and takes a big risk without her usual support system in place. It was the least fluffy and least "whatever" episode ever. So god help me as I try to recap it. Because recapping is a lot easier when you hate a show. Even grudging acceptance is an okay spot to occupy. But liking a show? Lord, hear my prayer.
Carrie is wearing yet another goddamn oversize knit rasta hat, this time in gradations of earth tones, as if Fraggles got in a turf war with Smurfs and wrestled away all the bright colors and demanded that now, under their rule, all large cartoonish hats mimic the colors of the earth, because everyone knows Fraggles are pagan and Smurfs ravers so respect it, yo. She spins through a revolving door with the confidence and aplomb a cartoonishly dressed woman doesn't usually possess. You know, with all the goofy shit Carrie wears, why has she never carried a bindle? Or worn a wimple? I mean, it's not too far from the realm of possibility. Bindles would make revolting doors tricky to navigate. But a wimple? Come on. She's so close. Just give in to it.
The dreaded VO begins: In NYC, it's hard to stay in vogue, so when Enid, Carrie's old Vogue editor, calls, Carrie says "how high" and meets her for lunch. Hey, remember Candy Bergen? She of the many neck scarves? Well, she's back.
While the menus are still open, Enid asks Carrie for a favor. Carrie smirks and waits for it: Enid is throwing a party for two documentary filmmaker friends of hers, and wants Carrie to come. With her boyfriend, the famous artist. And to bring a man for Enid. Now, please. Because, if you haven't looked at her neck lately, the clock, she is a-ticking for old Enid. You don't even need to cut her open and count the rings, just look at her neck. Well, Candy Bergen's neck hasn't been visible since before her undergraduate days at Penn, when she first discovered how great turtlenecks are for camouflaging hickeys. These days, Hermes can't crank out scarves quickly enough, and minks can't be turned into stoles fast enough, to provide the miles of coverage needed to hide that crepey thing holding Enid's head up. Anyway, Enid wonders if someone in Alek's "crowd" would be right for her, since everyone else is a part of a couple and she's not. The waiter comes, and she orders dorado. The waiter advises her that the dorado is a very large fish and they recommend that two people order it. Enid gets all crease-y and whines, "See? You even have to be part of a couple to order lunch in this town!" Carrie asks for the dorado as well. Enid whines, "Do you even like dorado? Because if this is a pity dorado, I can have crab cakes!" Heh. Carrie closes her menu and expresses concern over whether Alek is a "let's-set-people-up kinda guy." Enid says warningly, "I got you a job. You get me a man." Care to spell it out, Enid? I'm not reading you loudly or clearly enough.
Pre-dinner party, Alek cooks up a storm as Carrie loiters nearby in yet another fabulous party dress. Amazing, beautiful, strapless, white with black polka dots and sequins. I'm guessing it's Oscar de la Renta again. Alek asks if her friends like red wine. She says, "My friends like all wine." Heh. Jug? Box? Cooler? Bring it. Unparticular people are the best. Carrie begins: "Heeey? Uh. Do you have any single male friends?" Alek asks if she's tired of him already. No, but the audience is. Carrie explains it's for Enid, and he says he knows a food critic. Then he says, "Ees this really how you find luhv?" Shut up, Alek. People find love in all sorts of places. Someone as old as you should know that, Mister I Cruise Art Galleries and Take What I Want. Now, Alek has a question for her: Does she want to come to Paris with him? Not for a few weeks. Not for a few months. For indefinitely. Because he's going week and not sure when he'll come back. So will she come and "be" with him? Carrie stammers and waffles and VOs that while a man leaving her for Paris isn't foreign to her, this was. Then the doorbell rings and Alek, in his best impression of the Continental yet, says, "Ah! The cawiar!" Wow. Wow. Wowee wow wow wow! Wow!
Dinner party. The table is filled with her friends and their life partners. Carrie VOs that at parties like these, the goal can be to make sure your friends are comfortable around your boyfriend. Then Sam, in a black Chicago flappery wig, announces that she thinks her maid is using her vibrator. Everyone laughs, and Smith gets a cute close-up. Char says gently, "I don't think you're supposed to say 'maid' anymore." Carrie thinks saying "vibrator" over dinner is verboten. Sam continues; when she went to the kitchen to get her vibrator, the batteries were dead, and they were new the last time she used it. "Maybe in the Dominican Republic people share vibrators, but this is America! Land of plenty!" Everyone at the table lets out a big old "ooh, that's bad" laugh. Alek drops his gaze and looks distinctly put off. Carrie touches his hand and ducks her head in a "sorry my friends are so crass, honey!" gesture. Way to sell out your friends, man. It's not like they were popping pills or beating their kids. Harry says Sam could have a potential lawsuit on her hands, and Mir drawls, "What, breaking and vibrating?" Stanford, barely pausing between bites, says, "As long as it's not 'entering.'" Hee. Oh, the hee. Alek's face darkens. Jesus, what a pill. Carrie registers his distaste and sighs. Everyone at the table takes a pause, noting Alek's silence. Steve sees the piano and asks if Alek plays. Yes, he does. Does Alek know any Billy Joel? No, he doesn't. Steve rattles off some song titles. "'Uptown Girl'? 'More Than a Woman'?" Marcus finishes with, "'Piano Man'?" Alek. Hasn't. Heard of him. Someone on the boards thought it would be impossible for a Russian to have not heard of Billy Joel, since BJ (heh) toured there extensively, solo and with Elton John. I have to argue that, because if there's someone walking the earth for as long as Alek has, and he's gotten along this long without hearing Billy Joel, I tip my hat to him. I mean, I can't imagine how much happier I would feel without ever hearing Celine Dion. Or without seeing the commercial for her Las Vegas show. On the last TWoP Stonecutters trip to Vegas, Gustave tried to talk me into seeing CD at Caesar's. I told him that, even if it was free, and I got to sit in Justin Timberlake's lap during, then punch her in the face afterwards, I would not. I just can't do that to my ears. Or my soul. I've done enough damage already. Do I need the scars Celine will bring?
Charlotte asks to hear about Alek's sculpture exhibit in Paris. He says they aren't really sculpture. Char gets flustered and apologizes. Alek looks dark, again, some more, as Carrie rattles off what his work really is: "Large-scale light installations with integrated video..." He cuts her off. Harry turns to the opposite end of the table and says he doesn't like Paris: Too much attitude. "And what's with the toilet paper?" Everyone giggles. I also have issue with the beds. Every hotel I've stayed in in Paris has these teeny, way-soft beds. I should go back soon and see if they've changed. Alek says defensively that "Paris is the best city in the world." Steve says, "Easy, fella. You're talking to New Yorkers here." Carrie beams. Alek says New York is wonderful, but there's nowhere like Paris. "You'll see, Carrie." Mir asks with a smile, "You're going to the opening?" Alek says, "To live." Around the table, faces fall like glass ornaments off a browning Christmas tree. Smash, tinkle tinkle. Carrie grins and looks at Sam and her other friends' faces, and everyone just looks stunned. Mir the most shocked. Char puts a smile on her face; Sam just looks perplexed. Carrie stammers a bit, then says the details haven't been worked out yet, but yes, she has "been invited to go to Paris." Tumbleweeds. Silence. Arial shot of the dinner table.
After dinner, the four friends huddle on Alek's bed and hash it out. Is she really going? Where will she live? Is there a guest room? What will she do? Is she really considering it? Carrie is "still digesting," and doesn't know. Isn't it romantic! "My boyfriend just asked me to go to Paris!" A burst of laughter swells upstairs, and Sam wonders what they're doing down there. Mir says, "Not having a Billy Joel sing-along, that's for sure." Then Stanford peeks his head in and asks how much longer he has to pretend he's one of the boys. Wow, is this show making the point that Carrie's outgrowing Stanford? This is the second time in a row he's been dissed for the girlfriends.
Carrie and Alek lounge in front of the fire after dinner. She says her friends have some questions about the Paris thing. He says, but she'd be the one going. She rattles off some Qs, for which he has no As. Where would they live? Is it for a year? Indefinitely? Can she work there? Will her cell phone work there? He laughs. His apartment on the Left Bank is being remodeled, so they'd stay at the Plaza. She has more questions. He laughs again. "So many questions. Which is yours?" She pauses and says she can't remember, 'cause she drank too much wine. So, what about her apartment? Should she sublet it? He says he'll pay for it, because he has plenty of money, but what he doesn't have is "plenty of Carrie Bradshaws." She smiles and lays her head on his shoulder.
Breakfast with the girls. Carrie natters on ecstatically about how she's always wanted to learn French and drink wine before noon, so basically, it's her fantasy! Mir is all, for how long? Carrie says, however long it's fun! Char asks if she's getting married. Carrie doesn't think that's the deal. Char says, so what is he promising you? Carrie goes, uh, the WORLD? I can see why Carrie's bugging. Her friends are not happy for her. ["It's possible to be happy for her and still have questions, which I think is the case here; there was no need for Carrie to default immediately to whiny and defensive. Well, besides the fact that that's what she always does." -- Sars] Sam just chews her food in her weird scarf-hat thing. She looks tired and drawn. Mir wants to know about her work, since Carrie's column is "all about New York." Carrie screeches, "I don't knoooow! Why do you people still have questions! This is the time when everyone should be really excited for me!" Sam says she is, and "it's fabulous!" Char says she's thrilled too. Carrie says, "Then stop killing it with questions." Mir says in a soft voice that they're just worried for her. Carrie pauses and fixes Mir with a look and says it's a good offer, and she wishes her friends would be happy for her, especially when she's always been happy for them. Char says sadly that she is happy for her. There's an awful silence. Sam perks up and says, "Anyone want to talk about cancer? Anybody?" Silence.
Carrie types, in socks and a big shirt. She wonders when wondering becomes your life. "Is that living, or just procrastinating?" Oh, don't talk to me about procrastinating. I have it down to an art form. I call it "procrastibating." I train for it. It involves hours of sitting on the couch (TV or stereo optional), gazing at piles of magazines, and AOL IM. Carrie continues to wonder if all those phone calls and lunches have made us "all girl talk and no girl action." Then she types, "is it time to stop questioning," and ends the sentence with a question mark, then goes back and changes it to a period. Wow. It sounds like she's done fucking around. Carrie, is that you?
Char, Harry, and Elizabeth Taylor sit on the couch, watching TV. Char is nibbling and feeding ET snicky-snacks. Bite for her, bite for ET. Bite for her, bite for ET. Harry looks down and says, "Think someone's getting a little chunky?" Char whines, "Harr-rry!" He meant the dog. And he was right. ET gained four pounds since we last saw her getting gang-banged at the park. Gasp!
Char runs to the pet store with ET in her arms. She asks the clerk where the diet dog food is. Heh. He asks to hold ET, and says she isn't fat. She's pregnant! He opens his mouth in a huge "O" of surprise. Char's jaw drops too, but in a less happy way. Hilarious. And -- yay, puppies! This show has dogs and kids, and now puppies. It's ridiculous. Doesn't anyone fuck on this show anymore?
Harry comes home and strikes a pose in his jeans in the bathroom door. Char is scrubbing the tub in pearls and a little black dress, and red rubber elbow-length gloves. Harry asks, "So the dog's knocked up, huh?" Char scrubs frantically and says yes, because everyone around her gets pregnant but her. Awww! Harry says, "It's not like she planned it!" Char screeches, "Exactly!" She goes on to say that after the unplanned gang-bang with "eight mutts," now they're going to have to raise her "whole trampy, unpedigreed family!" ET comes in, wagging sweetly. Char whips her eyes around to face the wall and says angrily, "Elizabeth, Mommy can't look at you right now." ET whines and backs out of the room. Char resumes scrubbing the tub, and Harry backs away too.
Carrie fingers Berlitz French language tapes as she whines to Sam about Miranda not liking Alek. "This is about Billy Joel." Sam, in a short dark wig that is just about the most unflattering wig she's donned so far -- and yes, I do remember the afro avec pick -- says it's really about Carrie. "We're not going to encourage you to cross an ocean! We're selfish bitches who like you in New York." Carrie continues to whine about how Mir never tried to get to know Alek, and how he's really sweet, and she "really like[s]" him. That's barely a reason to move in with a guy, but hey, this is Paris. Sam admits he's "a bit arrogant, but he has the goods to back it up." I cannot believe how selfless Sam is being. She has CANCER. Sam could play the cancer card in a second, but she's too optimistic and wants Carrie to be happy, so she's not saying, "Stay in New York to take care of me. I need you." But I almost wish she would, to confront Carrie with her own center-of-the-world-ness. Carrie continues: "You know what else is annoying?" Sam busies herself looking at language tapes and says with a straight face, "What's annoying." Ooh, I know. Ooh, ooh, pick me! Okay, um, Carrie is annoying? Ding ding ding ding ding! I win, I win! [Balloons fall from the sky, models come out and guide me to the prize package, a lifetime supply of Nathan's hot dogs and rabbit pearl vibrators for all my friends, and Bob Barker reminds us all to spay and neuter our pets.] Carrie goes on to say that Mir didn't ask Alek one question, and "she is all about the questions." Sam, quick like a bunny, says, "I have a question: Why do you care?" She never asked any of her friends what they think about her "boyfriend." Carrie says she never heard Sam use the word "boyfriend." Carrie says that Mir has a point. What about work? Maybe she can't leave New York. Sam says, "Believe me, your fabulousness will translate." Carrie smiles. Sam says she shouldn't let him "dictate the terms. Maybe half the time you're there, half the time I'm there!" Carrie squints and says now Sam is being too supportive.
Carrie stalks 57th Street, listening to her language tapes. "Voulez-vous a la discotheque?" She does not repeat the phrases, just purses her lips and sighs and exhales, and then begins the dreaded VO: More questions, but this time at least they're in French. L'oy.
Carrie fusses at a vanity, in a lovely silver low-cut dress with a -- gag -- white bra visible beneath. Alek enters and says, "Are you coming?" Yes, she's just putting on her earrings. No, he meant to Paris. She hasn't decided yet. Alek says, "More questions? How is it possible?" Carrie wonders if they can't be there for a few months then come back, so it doesn't feel like they're moving. He says he's asking her to go to Paris, "not jail. I need to go to Paris now. I've been here for three years. I'm finished with New York." Ooh! No he di'n't! Oh, snap! Oh, dip! Oh, sweat! Carrie predictably says that she's not finished with New York. Maybe they could do long distance for a while? Alek says that doesn't work for him. Carrie looks her in vanity with an open-mouthed look of "WTF?" She VOs, "Voulez-vous an ultimatum?"
Party scene. It's swanky; everyone's wearing black except for Carrie in her sliver gown, white coat, and white bra. Enid is thrilled to meet Alek, less thrilled to meet her date, one Wallace Shawn. Hee! He's so brilliant, and he worked with Candy Bergen before on Murphy Brown. Remember, Stuart Little, "That's alls I know?" Murphy hates him. His opening gambit is about the weather: looks like some snow will "rival the '74 nor'easter." Hey, what about that blizzard of '77! Me and my mom walked all the way downtown to the Cupping Room for hot chocolate. The snow was taller than me. I was very little. Wow, I'm dating myself. Okay, I was ovum. Barely alive. Never mind. Wallace goes to check his coat, and Carrie whispers about how "sweet" and "smart" he is. Enid hisses, "He's! A! Hobbit!" Oh my god, at my New Year's Eve party some nerds were putting all the party guests into their places: Elf or Hobbit. I was an elf. And I said, you guys are NERDS. Want to play Dungeons and Dragons? Then go back in time to fifth grade and have at it. Then they were all like, "You're the Cate Blanchett," and I was all, thanks, nerds.
The party parties on, and a tall, glamorous woman bellows, "Carrie Bradshaw! Where the FUCK have you been hiding!" She gallops toward Carrie in slow motion. Carrie cringes and tries to fade into the wall, but then the woman -- Lexi Featherington, played winningly by Kristin Johnston, of Third Rock from the Sun and Austin Powers ("Ivana. Ivana Humpalot!") fame -- heads up to the roof for a smoke. Carrie slumps in relief.
Mir and Steve get ready for bed. Mir says, "He's just so...pre-TEN-tious!" Steve is all, are we still talking about him? Wow, do we still need to set up the fact that Miranda hates Alek? Oh, but this time it's how Carrie is around him. "She didn't laugh once at dinner." Steve finally admits that he's "a little full of himself," and Mir screams, "THANK YOU!!" Steve admonishes her not to "wake the kid." They get into bed and spoon. Mir mutters that she thinks Carrie won't go. "She has too much here." Steve says if she does, it will be okay. "You'll talk, you'll visit." Mir looks into the dark glumly and takes Steve's hand and clasps it to her chest. Aww! That's sweet.
Wallace Shawn natters on to Carrie about the best cheddar he ever had. Carrie looks over to the couch, where Enid and Alek sit comfortably, chatting and laughing. She VOs that somehow they switched dates. She excuses herself from Wallace and beelines over to the couch to check up on her guy and her boss. Wow, threatened much, Carrie? Oh, what am I saying, Carrie is like the most insecure person on TV. Enid sees Carrie and is all, "I love this man!" Alek goes to get Enid a drink (she gushes, "Are you always this attentive?"), and after he's gone, Enid says, "Oh Carrie, why aren't I with him." Whoa! Damn! Snap! Dip! Et cetera! I can't believe she said that. I mean, Carrie is a glamorous writer. Enid, an older, far less glamorous editor. And who can explain how love works? It just sort of struck them both out of the blue. Although whether Carrie and Alek are really in love remains a little unclear. Carrie says, "Because I am?" There's a pause, and Carrie asks, "What are you doing?" Enid snaps, "What!" Then, "I'm sorry." Seriously! That's crossing the line. But Enid can't stop with an apology. She says, "It's not fair." She stands up to face Carrie and speak more quietly. When you're a successful fifty-something woman, all the men your age like the "bimbos," and so it's a "very small pool...it's a wading pool, actually. So why are you swimming in my wading pool?" Carrie excuses herself to go to the powder room.
She VOs that the snow was starting to come down, and in the powder room, it's starting to go up. Lexi is snorting blow, and she didn't lock the door, so Carrie walks in on her. Carrie is all, wow, do people still do coke? What a thing to say! Lexi groans that no, they don't. Hey, remember when they used to go to Tunnel together? They were "like FIVE!" And oh, she's forty, and so glad to see Carrie. "We're the only two single girls here"! Carrie can't keep her mouth shut. "Actually, I'm with someone." Lexi says, "FUCK you!" and laughs, then leaves. Carrie winces and rolls her eyes.
Char is continuing her pitiful scrub of the apartment. Harry calls her, and she snaps that she can't come to bed because SOMEONE left her a little present because SOMEONE is too pregnant to HOLD IT IN. Harry says someone isn't holding it in anymore, and is having puppies in the bathroom. Char whips off her rubber gloves (yellow this time) and runs to help ET. Carrie VOs that Char embraced her maternal instinct, and three puppies that night. Aww. And wow, fastest gestation period ever.
Carrie hangs on Alek's arm as a charming couple explains their life to them: They split their time between L.A. and Calcutta. He edits movies there, and she stays in Calcutta, because "frozen yogurt is not culture." Heh. Then, ultimately, she gets "final Calcutta." Oh, the punning. Stop, before it's too late. The Punners excuse themselves, and Carrie suggests maybe they can do it like them, meaning split the time. Alek says that's not what he wants. He wants to wake up and see her, go to dinner. Every day, not a few months of the year. "You know. Life?" She says she wants to see him every day too, but she has a life in New York. He says, yes, but what does she want to come home to? What does she want her life to be? Wow. That is some deep shit. Lexi comes up and asks Carrie for a light. Carrie says she quit smoking. Wow, good for her. Lexi snarls, "Fuck YOU," and stomps off with her Marc Jacobs gold mesh purse swinging. LOVE the purse. Love the dice charm hanging on it. And I even love Lexi, though she's being the bad party girl right now.
Lexi stomps by Enid and Wallace and asks if THEY have a light. Enid is all, "There's no smoking in here, please go outside." Lexi says, "There is no outside, it's fucking snowing." Then, heels teetering, she bends over to open the floor-to-ceiling window so she can smoke in the living room. Wallace heads over to save the day: No smoking, young lady! Lexi wheels around and starts yelling. "When did everyone stop smoking? When did everyone pair off? This used to be the most exciting city in the world. Now it's all smoking in front of open fucking windows. What happened to FUN! New York is over. O. V. E. R. I'm so bored I could die." Alex smirks, Enid cringes, and the party pays attention to Lexi's rant. It's pretty good, actually. Then, her heel snaps, and she falls through the open window. It's awful. What a self-fulfilling prophecy. What instant karma. Everyone gasps. Carrie hides her head on Alek's shoulder. And Wallace sticks his head out the window to watch her descent, then pulls it back in, apres the thud. Oh, wow. Bye-bye, Lexi. I would have had a light for you!
The snow continues to fall. The first time that winter, Carrie VOs. "The city was silent. There were no more questions. Only white noise." Alek reads the Daily News about Lexi's horrible death, and Carrie turns to him and says, "I want to go to Paris." He smiles, and I tear up a little. Wow. She made a decision. She took a risk. Go, Carrie.
Miranda and Steve make snow angels in their backyard. Brady lies on Mir's chest. He laughs his baby laugh. It's so fucking adorable.
Char scoops the puppies out of their box. Lining it is the New York Post, with the headline, "SPLAT!" Go, New York Post, GO! Now that I'm a full-time tabloid reporter, I have to say, I covet the Post. I worship the Post. It's just the queen bee of tabloid journalism. Let me give you an example. My favorite recent Post headline? It was about the Britney marriage scandal: "SPLITNEY!" I mean, come on. Perfection. Beauty. Trashy and funny. It's what I aspire to.
Church bells ding. It's Lexi's funeral. Carrie walks with Stanford on her arm. Stanford can't believe the tale: "She tripped on her Manolos?" Carrie says it's sad, she died, the end. He says it is sad that he missed the scandal of the social season. "I need details. I need last words." Carrie intones, "'I'm so bored, I could die.'" Stanford stifles a giggle. They see Sam, who says the funeral is "better than Fashion Week!" Stanny gushes that Marcus us saving seats to Hugh Jackman. He runs inside. The four girlfriends hang around outside. Carrie says, "It's the end of an era. The party is officially over." Well, for you old coots, anyway. There's always someone else at the party doing coke and smoking. They're just half your age. Carrie sees Enid and Wallace walk into the church arm-in-arm. They nod at each other, and Carrie says, "If you're single in New York after a certain point, there is no where to go but down." Mir says, "Eighteen stories down." Carrie pauses, then says she's going to Paris. Char and Sam offer happy congratulations, but Mir's face darkens as she says, "Because you're afraid of going out a window?" Wow. Mir is taking this rather badly. ["Woman's got a point, though." -- Sars] Carrie says she wants to open a new one. Wow! Now, I like this Carrie. She's going for something other than shoes or a man that doesn't want her (meaning Big). Mir has more questions. What about her job? Carrie quit. Mir opens her mouth, and Carrie cuts her off. "We're done with the question portion of our program. I'm going. I'm happy. Now let's say goodbye to Lexi." The four friends go inside.
Apres funeral, Carrie and Mir walk and talk. Mir has on this great Marc Jacobs black coat. It's fab. They both look grim and unhappy. They decide to go to Gordon's. Then Mir says tearfully, "I can't believe you quit your job! Couldn't you write your column there?" Carrie says they didn't like her American-in-Paris angle, and that they will probably get a twenty-nine-year-old single girl with all new problems to write a column. Mir says she thinks Carrie is making a mistake. Her column is who Carrie is. Carrie snaps, "It's not who I am, it's what I do." Then she decides to skip Gordon's and just go home. Mir says tearfully, "I'm not allowed to have an opinion? What are you going to do over there without a job, eat croissants?" Carrie asks why Miranda can't be happy for her. Mir says she's sorry, but she doesn't see why Carrie has to move and "give up" her life. Carrie says Mir moved to Brooklyn. Mir yells, "That's just Brooklyn!" Carrie says this is all about Miranda needing her to stay in the same place. Mir screeches, "What?" As long as Carrie stays single and in New York and writing her column, it'll mean that nothing has really changed. When really, everything has changed. Two years after 9/11, and everything has changed again and again. Mir says this is about Carrie. Carrie disagrees; she can stay here and write about her life, or she can go to Paris and live it. Carrie stomps off. Mir yells that she loves Carrie. Carrie has another issue: "Just say it! You don't like him!" Mir yells that all right, she doesn't like him. Carrie wheels around and says, "Then don't you go to Paris with him." She walks away in her black coat and high-heeled boots. Mir yells after her, "You're living in a fantasy!" Carrie keeps on walking, like boots are made to do.
The music starts up, hopeful piano this time. Lights up on a horse-drawn sleigh with Alek and Carrie inside. Hooves pound in the snow. Bells ring. Carrie VOs that maybe she is living in a fantasy, but she's found a man who can make it a reality. And she's not going to question it. Not even to ask how he found a horse-drawn sleigh in the middle of Manhattan.
The music starts up, hopeful piano this time. Lights up on a horse-drawn sleigh with Alek and Carrie inside. Hooves pound in the snow. Bells ring. Carrie VOs that maybe she is living in a fantasy, but she's found a man who can make it a reality. And she's not going to question it. Not even to ask how he found a horse-drawn sleigh in the middle of Manhattan.