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.