Carrie's apartment is a whirlwind of shoe boxes and pink tulle. She's packing. Everything must go. To Paris. The credits begin with, "Guest starring Chris Noth," and I think I hear a fleet of car alarms going off. Nope -- just the screams of all the legions of Big fans watching. Carrie VOs that some outfits have waited their whole lives for their debut. She tears the dry-cleaner wrap off a Gaultier-looking black and white striped skirt and top, with a honking black and white striped flower in the center. Love! Carrie, in a cardigan and big black granny panties, moves boxes and selects shoes and pushes the button on her answering machine: Alek, admonishing her to stop packing and come to Paris already, since they have clothes there. Beep. Miranda, who is not calling to ask her not to go, like she has a billion times already, but to tell her that their dinner reservations are at 6 PM, making them old ladies. But that's the only way Carrie will make her plane. Oh, and "merci-beau-please don't go." Beep.
More answering machine fun. Hi, Carrie. It's Big. Carrie pauses. He's in town and wants to talk to her. Same number. In case you forgot, it's -- WHAM. Carrie hits the "delete" button and beep! The message is deleted. Carrie pushes a shoe box across the floor like she's curling, except no one is at the other end of her apartment to sweep the box to a standstill.
Carrie steps out of her apartment door in a lovely pink Oscar de la Renta dress and white evening coat. Pretty! She makes it down a few steps, then looks up and sees it: Big, parked out front in his limo, his face framed in the car window like she's seen so many times before. Instantly, she looks pissed and disarmed. He turns on the charm and drawls, "Well, if Mohammed won't come to the mountain…" She exhales a little and cocks her head. Finally he says hi, then she says hi breathlessly. Big says casually that he was in the neighborhood. So, can he talk to her? She says she's late for dinner with the girls. Big looks at his watch and makes a polite little WTF? face. "Its five forty-five." Yes, in the time you've been gone, Bog, Carrie and her friends have turned into old ladies. Now get out of the way, they're missing Matlock! He beseeches her to get into the car, since it's cold outside. Carrie obliges.
Big sends his driver Raoul outside so they can have a moment. Carrie says that's okay, since it's cold. Big urges Raoul to go, and whispers to Carrie that he'll "tip like a Rockefeller." Will he also save all his toenail clippings like one, and wear tissue boxes on his feet for slippers? Oh, my bad, that was Howard Hughes. Or maybe just a joke from The Simpsons. This late in the season, my brain has turned to mush. And with no bad fashion to make fun of, well, I'm just grasping at straws here. Carrie's even being so quiet that I can't tell her to shut up. How am I supposed to do my job?
Anyway. Now they're alone in the car. Big puts on the cute (which at his age seems more than a little desperate) and says he was "feeling like a needy chick" what with all the phone calls, and did he do anything to "piss [Carrie] off?" Hmm, where can I start? First, you went and married another girl. Then there was the going to France and leaving Carrie all alone thing. Then you came back; then you moved to Napa. Then just last year you dropped the bomb that you were having heart surgery, let Carrie take care of you, then closed the door of your heart, leaving her on the outside again, some more? Come on, dude. You've been a major cad. Now you ask if you've pissed her off? She just shakes her head and says she's "been busy with other things." He looks supremely sad. Well, that's what you get, dude. Too little, too late. The barn, she is closed. The cow giveth no more milk. Eth. Then he says he knows he freaked out about them the last time he saw her, and Carrie says it's fine, and he's fine, and he "really doesn't have to do this, okay, there's no point! It's all fine! Raoul's freezing and I have to go meet the girls." Big looks sad again, some more, then suggests that they get together for dinner tomorrow night. No response. Drinks? Nothing. Then she licks her lips like Cher and says she won't be around tomorrow night, as she's leaving for Paris tonight. Big says wow, finally taking that vacation, huh? Nope. She's going "with a man that [she's] in a relationship with." She looks at him like, so there. Boat-misser. See the tiny sails in the horizon? That's me, sucka. Big raises his eyebrows like, oh. She says, "He's wonderful, and I'm happy, so don't feel bad. Goodbye."
She jumps out of the car. Big leaps out after her. "Carrie! Carrie! What are you doing, saying goodbye and leaping out of the car like that?" Well, maybe she doesn't trust herself around him. Maybe she thinks he doesn't deserve any more of her time or energy. Maybe she's MAD at him for being an unfeeling jerk. Carrie does that lip-licking thing like Cher again, and exhales. She looks away, stamps her foot, and is silent. ["Okay, I'm sorry, but that was bratty. Shut up, Carrie." -- Sars] Big is all, "Are you moving to Paris? When were you going to tell me?" She still can't say anything to him. He continues and asks who the guy is. She says, his name is Aleksandr Petrovsky. He jokes, "You're moving to Paris with a Russkie?" She wheels around and stomps away. He yells after her to stop, and she spins around and lets him have it. "You do this every time! Every time! You must have some kind of radar! 'Carrie might be happy, it's time to sweep in and shit all over it!'" Big says gently that he came here to tell her something. "You and I..." Carrie screams, "You and I, NOTHING! You CANNOT DO this to me again, you CANNOT jerk me around!" He says this time it's different. She says it's never different. "I'm done! Don't call me ever again! Forget you know my number! In fact, forget you know my name! And you can drive down this street all you want. Because I don't live here anymore!" She turns and walks away, then breaks into a run (not easy in stilettos). Big watches her go, dumbfounded. Yup. Looks like you lost her, dude.
Dinner with the girls. Carrie, in lovely dewy makeup, rants about Big. Too little too late, now that she's leaving he thinks he can swoop in, and "you know what he is? He's the Boy Who Cried Love. Too little, too late." Mir laughs a bitter little laugh. Charlotte leans forward and says, "Love? He said he loved you?" Carrie, annoyed, says, no, it's an allegory. Her point is, it was years, YEARS! But mostly she's upset about Big "ruining [her] last night in New York. Well, fuck him! And you know I never say that." Ooh, Carrie cursed! That's as rare an occurrence as it is rare to not see Carrie's bra. Actually, even rarer. Carrie drains her cosmo, and Sam offers her another. No, Carrie wants not to be drunk on the plane, and to arrive looking "impossibly fresh." Good luck with that. No one ever looks good after a flight. If you're lucky, you end up looking slightly better than the awful food they serve. Carrie clinks her glass and begins, "Ladies." Char stops her, already tearful, saying she's going to cry. Mir looks like her usual cynical self and says, "She didn't even say anything yet." Let me guess how it's going to go: And it wasn't a dream, it was a place. And you, and you, and even you were there. And I remember that some of it wasn't very nice. But most of it was beautiful. Oh Toto, there's no place like home! Oh, wait. That's Dorothy's speech from The Wizard of Oz. Also, for trivia fans, the quote for my senior yearbook page in high school. I guess every goodbye scene in a movie or TV show echoes that final scene somehow. On Beverly Hills, didn't Brandon call Donna "Scarecrow" as he left for good? ["Probably because she looked like one. Hi-yo!" -- Sars]
Char weeps, "I know what's coming!" Sad Piano, pull up a chair, or push in a stool, whichever you prefer. Tinkle on something. Just go with your slow-tempo-ed self and set that mood to "wistful." Someone smeared Vaseline on the lens, because all of a sudden the girls look hazy. Carrie begins her farewell speech. And can I just say that, if this is the last scene with all four friends, I'm going to be bummed? It's the only part I really enjoy, since I know how hard it is to get together with one special friend, let alone three. The fact that these women so consistently make time for each other is the most unrealistic, and yet the most satisfying, aspect of this whole show. I mean, if I could have lunch with a group of friends every week, I think I'd be a lot happier and more well-rounded. My friends are great. But I'm busy, and they're busy, and it just makes me glad for things like Friendster where you can feel like you're in touch with people even though you only get to hang out once a week or so. Carrie wants to thank her friends for being supportive, in spite of some of their opinions on her move across an ocean. Mir says, straight-faced, "Me? I've never had an opinion in my life." Carrie grins, and they hug. Char begs for them to stop. Sam says, "Easy there, Waterworks," and hugs her. Then Sad Piano kicks it up a notch as Carrie says, "Today I had a thought. What if I had never met you?" Um, is that deep? It isn't the same as saying what someone means to you. I guess this echoes the reality that there isn't much love lost between the women on this show. I mean, if they hadn't sanitized the life out of those E! True Hollywood Stories, they could do a great one on this show, one that's less about red carpet poses and more about hair-pulling cat fights in the Hamptons.
Sad Piano rocks on with its black and white self. Everyone sobs and bows their heads like they're in church. The waiter quietly puts down a plate and tiptoes away. Sam says she wants to show her face in the restaurant again, so they should try to pull it together. Carrie asks someone to say something not sentimental. Sam has this: "Chemo may have pushed me into early menopause." Mir laughs. "Task accomplished." Sam goes on about the hot flashes. "I can barely keep my clothes on!" Carrie says, "And what was your excuse before?" Sam says, "Oh I'm gonna miss you, you cunt." Awesome. And, I'm not. Char sobs anew, clearly overcome by that, um, touching display. Mir says, "Wow, even 'cunt' didn't stop her."
Carrie, now in her traveling outfit of that crazy Gaultier-esque black and white striped skirt and top (with the big old flower on it), hears that the car is downstairs to take her to the airport. Now, I kind of like this outfit. It looks stretchy and comfortable, good for the plane. And it's graphic, but simple. She goes through a dish on her vanity and grabs her Carrie nameplate necklace, tosses it in her bag, and runs out.
Sitting in the car, she looks at her building. She's totally having a more loving moment staring at her apartment than she did saying goodbye to her friends. And the lighting is better. Her lips, glossier. Her makeup, dewier. This really says it all, doesn't it? It really is All About Carrie. And even though she isn't saying anything, Shut Up, Carrie. The car slides away.
Four forks dive into a dessert. Sam's at her second dinner date of the evening, a meeting to hash out the details of "the best breast cancer benefit ever." Sam, clearly overcome by a hot flash, perspires and fans herself with a napkin, refusing the waitresses offer of "more hot decaf." The perky woman leading the dinner meeting asks the status of the goody bags. First up is the pink ribbon breast cancer cookie! Applause, applause! Sam scoffs. Every breast cancer benefit she's been to in the last five years have had "that fucking cookie," and even she, who had breast cancer, doesn't care about the fucking cookie. Some of the women that will be at the event are currently battling cancer, and "they need something more outrageous and inspirational than a fucking cookie!" Oh yeah. But let's not hate completely on the cookie's power to motivate people. I mean, some cookies can move mountains, or lift cars off babies. Maybe not that tired old pink ribbon cookie. But some cookies truly can work miracles. Sam theatrically drinks the last of her water as the meeting head agrees with her point. Those women do need something inspirational. So, she's giving them the gift of Sam. Sam gulps, then makes a "wha?" face. Her? Make a speech? But what can she say? Meeting Head doesn't know, but her parents are coming, "so please try not to say 'fuck' so much." Good luck with that. Is "cunt" still in-bounds? What about "knob-gobbler"? I don't see how one can get through an inspirational speech without utilizing those words. I mean, they both say so very much.
Whee, l'hotel en a rue du Paris! La Plaza Athenee! Carrie steps out, in striped shoes to match her traveling outfit. And a little hat. Chapeau. It's, um, shrunken. And at a jaunty angle. It's like a beret crossed with an Oreo. Double Stuf with very bad things. Hydrogenated pain oils. Le ouch. That hat. People hate mimes, right? Well, that hat is some mime's revenge on Pat Fields. Can you see the miming? First the mime will pull Pat close to him with the invisible rope. Then the mime will walk against the wind, holding the hat firmly to his head. Then a fake gust of wind will blow the hat into Pat Field's waiting hands, where she snatches it and rides her bike like a good little fashion witch of the East Village all the way to the costume department. "Look! Look! It's the Frenchiest hat ever! And it's so STREET!" Then everyone oohs and pretends to love it, then rolls their eyes and thanks God that there's only one more episode. Myself included.
Carrie "mercis" and "bonjours" everyone into the hotel. Her accent is l'horrible. Then the desk clerk actually says a sentence to her en Francais, and she's all, le slower, please? Okay. Alek is in the salon. She's all, "Ah! Oui!" She has the luggage sent to her room and dashes off to see her LOVAH.
Carrie, charmed by the genteel manner of the salon, sees Alek in a snuggly position with a young woman. Typically, she looks shocked to the core, then waffles. Alek sees her and leaps up, saying how good it is to see her. They kiss passionately, as Carrie looks out of one eye at the woman sitting there, smoking as she gives Carrie le hairy eyeball. She's Alek's daughter, Chloe. Bonjour. Carrie says she's fine, et toi? Chloe rattles off a long complaint en Francais, none of which Carrie understands. Chloe says, "Oh! You don't speak French!" No. She's learning. Alek explains that Chloe said she's having a bad day, and that she wants to kill herself. Charmer. Alek finishes with, "Boyfriend problems." Carrie perks up and says that's her department. "Tell me all about the bum!" Chloe exhales a plume of tobacco smoke and just stares at her. Wow, I can tell Carrie isn't thinking "stepmom." Also, maybe she hasn't learned yet that you can't be everybody's buddy. Not right off the bat, and sometimes never. Particularly when you meet your b.f.'s daughter. Give it time. Or let it go. Whatever. Chloe asks if this is Carrie's "first visit to Paris." Yup. And she "almost screamed" when she went past the Eiffel Tower. Chloe says the Eiffel Tower "used to be tolerable, but now, with that light show? Hideous. Simply hideous!" Carrie says, "Oh," and picks up her clutch like a security blanket. Chloe lights another cigarette. Alek says quietly, "du trop," which if I remember my All About Eve correctly, means she's in the way or too much or something. Then Alek says Chloe won't be joining them for dinner or drinks later, just the afternoon. Carrie excuses herself to nap and unpack so they can catch up without having to interpret for her benefit. They don't look like they'll miss her. And Alek will be going out later with some museum people, so he won't see Carrie until later. She says, "I'm in Paris! Don't worry about me!" Oh, and what's their room number again? 625, got it.
The valet lets Carrie into her room. It's fabulous. She munches on a grape, opens the curtains, then steps out onto the balcony. Lovely view of the street, and Le Tour Eiffel. She claps her hands and jumps up and down like a 38-year-old girlish woman. Wheee! Pareee!
It's night. The "hideous" light show is going on. It's not so bad. Carrie waits in her hotel room, all tricked out in what looks like an Alexander McQueen multi-layered gray and purple gown. Haute couture. Extreme. I generally call gowns like that "goons." And she's waiting for her man, who hasn't shown up yet. Tell us about the bum, Carrie.
Puppies nestle at Harry and Charlotte's feet. They're filling out adoption paperwork. (Harry and Char, not the puppies.) Harry can't believe the paperwork. Char turns to him and says that God is going to send them a baby. And, it's their job to be "as aggressive as [they] can, up to the point of being obnoxious." Harry says, "Amen." Here's a haiku I wrote for this scene:
No babies for Char
per se. None in her oven.
Adoption will work.
Finally, Alek returns to the room. Carrie's all spread out on the bed in her goon, asleep. He wakes her, then says the museum dinner turned into this whole big thing. Sad Piano starts up, heavy on the wistful. He would have called, but she put the "do not disturb" message on her phone. She did? I wonder why she would willingly cut herself off from everything she...oh. They kiss, then Alek says, "You look like dessert." She whispers that her dress is "a thousand layers." Oh boy. Counting, he begins to go up under the many layers of her goon. Oh, ew.
Sam practices her inspirational cancer speech in front of Smith, in a leopard bra and red boy-cut panties. Hee. Hot flashes. Sam's speech is rather bland. It doesn't sound like her. "It's in a woman's knowing smile..." Sam pants and sweats under her wig. Then, tah-dah! How did Smith like it? Smith makes an "eh" face. "It's kinda stiff." He thought it would sound more like Sam. At AA, "the most inspirational speakers are the ones that keep it real." Sam rolls her eyes. She's "speaking at a black tie benefit, not chilling at P. Diddy's crib." Heh. Won't she be rollin' on dubs to the benefit? Maybe she should keep all of this on the down-low. Ain't nobody have to know. Then she could shake it like a salt shaker. See the wall, shorty? Put your hands on it. Hey, I listen to far too much hip-hop. She finishes with, "You may know AA, but I know PR." Then she runs off to stick her head in the freezer. Aww, hot flashes.
It's rainy out on the Paris streets. Carrie doesn't mind; she has her red umbrella and a teeny bag from Chanel to keep her happy and warm. She VOs that, after a week there, her French should be strong enough for a day of shopping. She heads into Dior, and the rain that falls off her umbrella makes a puddle on the floor. She calls, "Bonjour!" then slips and falls right on her face. All her belongings scatter everywhere. She slides several feet across the floor. It's quite dramatic and embarrassing. Very Carrie. She's fine, though. Just bruised her dignity. And maybe a shattered ego. She stays on her knees and picks up her purse's scattered contents as some customers smirk at her. Heh.
Carrie returns to the hotel, laden with Dior bags. She explains to Alek that she overshopped in order to make the store's staff forget her awful fall. Oh, wow. She overcompensated for falling down! They should have tried to make her feel comfortable. Or maybe John Galliano has a "must mock" policy in place at all of his design houses. I knew John Galliano was cool. Carrie says she came all the way to Paris to "squat and scoop in Dior." Alek comforts her with a "poor baby." Carrie says that she didn't even check to see if she had all her credit cards. She rummages through her purse and panics. "Oh no. Oh, my god!" Her Carrie necklace is missing. Carrie frantically searches, then dumps out her purse. Alek sort of pays attention as he talks on the phone. Yup. The necklace is gone. Carrie is lost. Oh, boy, the anvils are heavy today.
Carrie walks the sidewalk, alone, alone. Sad Piano has been replaced by Sad Electric Piano, and I think the keyboard player from Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark is sitting in. Carrie stares at four women having lunch, laughing and chatting, and it hits her. She made a mistake.
Miranda takes a handful of Cheerios. Her phone rings. It's Carrie, of course. Mir is thrilled. How's it going? Carrie's really upset. She lost her Carrie necklace, the one she got at that street fair when they were all together, and she'll never be able to replace it, and it makes her so sad, and no one in France understands her, and it sucks. Mir is all, come home. Carrie can't, it's only been a week. Mir asks how things are going otherwise. Well, not good. She's been to every museum "twice," and she's "just sort of lost." And she's alone a lot, since Alek is busy with the opening. But she can't come home, she's just being a baby, she didn't know how much she would miss her friends. Mir says they miss her too. Carrie says she "has too much time to think." Mir, channeling me, says, "What does that mean." Oh, shit. Carrie says she keeps thinking about Big, and what it would be like if she had come to Paris with Big. Mir is silent. Hello? Mir's still there. Then the phone chirps en Francais, and just as Mir says, "Carrie, listen," it cuts her off. Carrie hangs up and walks away.
Sam's giving her inspirational speech, which is turning into a perspirational speech: hot flash going on, big-time. "Look around you...it's the woman to you at the dry cleaners, ahem, the single mother picking her child up from school. She's brave, she's capable, she's you...oh, fuck it, she's me. And if any of you were having hot flashes, you deserve a fucking medal." Sam pants and complains that first she lost her hair, now her face is running down her couture. Hey, at least you have couture. Your hair will grow back. Then she says, "Oh, fuck it," and pulls off her wig. Smith watches, impressed. A woman in the audience lights up, then pulls off her wig and applauds. Then another woman de-wigs and gives Sam a standing O; then it's a bunch of wigged babes taking it all off and showing Sam some love. It's very sweet. Sam's surprised. She was just being in the moment and being honest. And it paid off. Smith is impressed. He leaps to his feet ands screams for her. The whole room is on its feet, screaming for her. And I think this is Sam's last scene ever. I'm so verklempt! I hope there's more Sam week. But if this is how she goes out -- herself, warts and all, with some regained dignity and the love of her boyfriend and respect of her peers? I can live with it.
Char steps into Carrie's apartment with her mail, and sees Carrie's laptop lying on the bed, alone, alone. This makes Char cock her head like a puppy. Hmm? Biscuit goes what? She peruses Carrie's recommendation letter for her and Harry's adoption process. Then the phone rings. It's Big, leaving a message. He "can't lose" Carrie again. Then he says it: he loves her. Char snatches up the phone.
Brunch, the truncated version: just the three remaining girls in NYC. Char says, "And her computer was just sitting on the bed!" Um, they have laptops in France. The power conversion thing may have been an issue. Or maybe it's a sign. At least, it's symbolic. Big walks in. Char looks, then smiles a little. Mir and Sam look at him like an evil thing, then as a necessary evil. Big says he made a lot of mistakes with Carrie: "I fucked it up. Many times." Then he says that the three of them are "the loves of her life, and a guy is just lucky to come in fourth." God, that's sweet. Then he says, "I do love her. And if you think I have the slightest chance, I'm on the flight to Paris...but if you think that she really is happy, then I don't want to wreck that for her. And I'll be history." Pause. Silence. Sam looks at Miranda. Mir looks at Sam. Char looks at them both, blinking back tears. Then Mir leans forward and -- god, I love her eye makeup here. All blue and lovely -- says, "Go get our girl." I love Miranda! Time for another haiku:
Yes: Big has returned.
He'll snatch the Little Kept Girl
Back to NYC
Carrie sips champagne and giggles. Alek hands her a jewelry box. She's all, what's this? He says he knows it isn't "the Carrie necklace. But it's a necklace for Carrie."
Carrie kvells and tries it on. It's GORGE. Rough diamonds, loose, on a chain, not set. Lovely, light, subtle. Alek leans in and says he knows he's been busy, but as soon as the opening is over, it will just be the two of them. Carrie smiles and leans in for a kiss. Then Alek is hailed by one of his friends, who has a woman in tow. They hail-fellow-well-met each other, then Carrie is brushed aside for another rapid-fire conversation en Francais. She sits quietly, looking on unhappily, as the party talk in another language falls around her like a piece of toast, buttered side down. Carrie wants no part of it. And everyone around her is oblivious to the fact, or just ignoring her as they natter on. Quel rudeness! Carrie's lost! Unhappy! It's so obvious! Carrie, come home!