Forget the Galliano-era Dior newspaper dress. Forget the Vivienne Westwood wedding gown. Forget, even, the many Manolos. As sensational as they all were, the fashion legacy of Carrie Bradshaw is less about pieces and more about spirit. It’s all about an attitude.
Hers were looks that expressed a love of fashion (obsession, perhaps) while refusing to be beholden to the arbitrary ‘rules’ around it. Originally masterminded by costume designer Patricia Field, Carrie’s calling card was elegance and glamour coupled with kitsch and camp. A lot of the decisions were downright odd (the belt around the bare midriff, the flat caps, hell, even that tutu in Sex And The City’s opening credits) and some get-ups would be deemed a little ‘too much’ even at a fancy dress party (see the gigantic gingham Maryam Keyhani bonnet worn for a stroll through Washington Square Park in the first episode of the final season of And Just Like That) – but that is all part of the charm.
As Sex And The City morphed into the bemusing spin-offs (two films, then three seasons of And Just Like That), one of the only threads that united them all – even as Miranda and Charlotte seemed to be slowly lobotomised into entirely different people – was Carrie’s love of fashion, the more outré and maximal the better.
One thing we can thank Carrie for is high/low, opposites-attract dressing. Fresh-off-the-runway designer pieces and legit couture creations (see the Atelier Versace ‘mille-feuille’ gown she falls asleep in in the SATC finale) are mixed with pocket change bric-a-brac, notably those jumbo corsages and the signature name-plate necklace.
I’m surprised how excited I still get to see Carrie’s outfits on an idle rewatch of a SATC episode that I’ve seen thousands of times before – first in a semi-furtive viewing on TV in my teenage bedroom, then on the complete DVD boxset in shared houses, now streamed as the ultimate comfort background watch. The ravaged Roberto Cavalli top! The skimpy DKNY slip, aka the OG naked dress! The fur coat and avia- tors at a Yankees game! The bustle-backed Westwood miniskirt!
Why and how do they still look good? Because they never kowtowed to current trends, but were built around the character (even AJLT had some viral fashion and mega style moments – like the JW Anderson pigeon bag and the carnation-filled Simone Rocha dress).
Indeed, the biggest joy of Carrie’s wardrobe is that it is a celebration of personal style, instinctiveness, dressing with emotion (joy, by the way, is the word! She’s a one- woman advert for the immense pleasure that can be found in effortful dressing). Sure, the colours and volumes and, yes, the prices are dialled up high – but there’s something weirdly relatable about the haphazardness of it all. In a beige-washed world, anyone can be a knock-off Natasha (who, for the record, deserved better), but restraint is not necessarily synonymous with either taste or effortlessness.
That Carrie/Natasha dichotomy illustrates how vital the clothes were to SATC. When they first come face to face, the awkwardness is amplified by the contrast between the two women: Carrie in a python-print bandeau, striped skirt, straw hat and scarf inexplicably tied around her arm; Natasha in white tank and grey trousers. Sure, IRL we might know better than to ever wear a cowboy hat in public, but we have all, I think, been a Carrie in that moment, simultaneously too much and not enough.
Where we have probably not been Carries is in matching her voracious spending (certainly not if we, like her, chose the famously unlucrative career path of ‘freelance writer’). But I can dismiss this as part of the fantasy – along with the fact that she is a prudish sex writer. I do think, however, that there is something pertinent raised in how she unapologetically indulges her love of Manolos and Fendi Baguettes. It is an illustration of autonomy and, particularly in her dating days, was indicative of a woman being able to live her life on her terms, rather than waiting for it to begin. One of the reasons that the SATC season six episode A Woman’s Right To Shoes hits – in which she is scolded by new mum Tatum O’Neill for her ‘extravagant footwear and lifestyle choices’ after Carrie’s Manolos are stolen at the former’s baby shower – is because it put into sharp focus that we all have permission to live our lives as we choose.
One of the best and boldest things about Carrie’s look, however, is that for all her longing for romance, she never dressed for the male gaze. Mercurial, insecure writer Jack Berger’s ‘nice hat!’ burn is a two-word summation of everything that was wrong with their relationship. Arguably a more successful writer, AJLT’s Duncan Reeves’ bizarre, gaga reaction to seeing her shoe closet, however, is shorthand – I think – for him being essentially a good egg. The lesson: why dress for men at all? They either get it or they don’t.
Indeed, why ever dress for anyone but yourself ?