Kaboom -- Charlotte is at a jewelry store, facing an upbeat saleswoman. She's getting her 2.17-carat ring (from Tiffany's, don't you know) appraised and seeing what it can be turned into. The saleswoman gushes that a floating diamond necklace would be "to die." Or maybe a pendant? Or earrings? Char draws back a bit and asks if this turning an engagement ring into some other piece of jewelry thing is often done. The saleswoman points to her earrings, which used to be her baguettes, until her husband turned out to be a "fag-uette. He had good taste, though." Sigh. Char grabs her ring and runs for the door, not ready to give up the rock.
Carrie sits in her bank, trying to get a loan, in a hiddy black plastic-bead necklace and a bright, cute tulip sundress. Her bank officer is all, let's look at your assets! Oh, you have none. Plus, Carrie has no income other than her column. Okay, I write some stuff for newspapers, and a weekly column written from home would have to pay her at least $5000 a month for her to live the way she does. And newspapers don't play that. I mean, "pay that." Especially the weekly variety, which is what she's supposed to be writing for. But whatever, right? In checking, Car's got $700, and in savings just $957. Not a lot! She tries to appeal to the bank lady, telling the sad story about breaking up with her fiancé and having only 25 days to buy or fly. The bank woman is all, yeah. That's real sad. But we don't give out money for sad stories. Or, Carrie isn't "a desirable candidate for a loan." Next! Oh, the end, she is nigh.
So, Carrie realizes she has to make some "lifestyle changes." Please say fashion accessories are topping the list. Oh, she means taking the bus instead of cabs. She asks a woman how much the bus is, then pops her monocle at the news that the fare is a buck fifty. Don't ever move to Philly, dear, it's TWO FREAKING DOLLARS to ride. Cheaper if you buy tokens, but don't take on too much at once. Carrie blabbers to the woman, who probably couldn't care less, that the last time she rode the bus it was seventy-five cents! "Did you know for three more bucks, you could take a cab?" The look the woman gives her is, Cabs are that way, freakazoid. The bus rolls up, and there's the goddamn ad on the side for Carrie's column. The woman turns to Carrie and is all, "If you're ON the bus, how come you have to TAKE the bus?" Hee.
Carrie types on about how she's thirty-five with no financial security (didn't she see the inevitable coming?), but with "many life experiences behind" her, and she should "get credit for enduring them." Oh, give me strength. In VO, she really hits "life experiences," in a desperate attempt to make Carrie seem sympathetic, like broken hearts are some kind of accomplishment. And, um, career? No small potatoes. God, is her brain really located south of her belt buckle? Think, damn you! The toilet ghost-flushes, and Carrie looks in the direction of the toilet furtively. Another problem! Which you will NOT get credit for fixing. So Carrie says she's loaded up with "war wounds and self-doubt," boo hoo, and asks the Question of the Week about failed relationships and blah blah blah: "What's it all worth?" In dollar value? Not a damn thing. Oh, but her trials have fed the column. In that case, a little something.