Cooking is no more the "mark" of a functional adult than sewing. There are plenty of folks in Manhattan who don't cook, in large part because apartments tend to be tiny and many have small, practically useless kitchens. For a single person it's often cheaper and easier just to eat out, especially if you're working crazy hours

Both Carrie and Miranda had apartments with large, perfectly functional kitchens -- which they seemed to consider it a badge of honor to know nothing about. But they certainly drooled when the men in their lives managed to cook up some delicious meals there. True, Miranda worked some crazy hours. Carrie, however, seemed to barely work at all. And the woman had something like $1700 in the bank at age 35, after god knows how many years of enjoying a ridiculously under-priced apartment in Manhattan. I never understood why anyone would feel the least bit of sympathy for Carrie when she initially was unable to buy her apartment in the co-op conversion, when she had $40,000 worth of generally ugly and absurd shoes in her closet, and regularly ate at restaurants that were in no way cheaper than eating at home. I curse the day Charlotte let Carrie shame her into forking over the downpayment money by selling the engagement ring Charlotte loved. Carrie deserved to live above the smell of take-out curry (or in Weehawken) for a while.

I have a question. Was the Oscar de la Renta wedding dress Carrie wore for the Vogue photo-shoot the same as Jenna Bush's wedding dress?

The last paragraph of my letter needs some corrections, as follow herewith:

So why did I bring up this somewhat off-colour story? As I haven't seen either tv serial or movie of "Sex and the City", I just needed to ask:

Is this story of mine perhaps appropriate for a movie/tv serial in the field of 'dick-lit' (assuming of course that there exists such a genre at all) ?

Anyway, I offer it herewith, gratis, to anyone taking up such a project.

Sorry about the goof-up.

-- GSC

I've not seen any episodes at all of the "Sex and the City" tv serials. I do NOT plan to see the movie. I am a male, so that's yet one more reason for me not to say anything at all about the series OR the movie. However, for whatever little or nothing they are worth, the following thoughts did rise on reading (with very keen interest) the apparently excellent review of the movie by Ms Zacharek and the comments on the review by a whole lot of ladies and a few gents:

When I was in college (many, many, many years ago, probably before the protagonists in the tv series were born!), I was something of a quite minor athletic star. (In the India of those days, this was by no means as much of a laudable distinction as it is nowadays). One student, Frank by first name, was often hanging around any athletes he could find who'd accept his presence: he loved our lustre, or something. One day, in the showers, he caught sight of the penis of one of THE big athletic stars of the college, and he was amazed. [I should probably explain here that middle-class Indians are in this day and age relatively prudish and modest, compared to US citizens, about their parts - and even in showers we generally manage to keep our privates private, so to speak. (Khajuraho and Kamasutra were long, long ago].

Anyway, to return to Frank and his sighting of the star athlete's penis: according to Frank, that penis was truly TINY! However, in our collective opinion, the star athlete was, quite normally endowed. On being challenged by the rest of us, Frank revealed himself, and he was really, truly HUGE! Even non-erect, Frank was absolutely awe-inspiring. (I never ever did see Frank in full erectile glory). Anyway, as a result, Frank soon became quite famous throughout college for his stupendous endowment. In due course, he was bestowed the probably appropriate nickname, "God's Gift To Womankind!"

In due course, we variously passed through college, and many, many years later, when I was working in another town (in advertising), I met Frank once again. On exchanging reminiscences and current information about each other, I discovered that Frank had turned religious, was now attending a Christian seminary, studying to be a padre or priest or something of that nature. In my real amazement at this news, I exclaimed: God's Gift to Womankind, now lost forever to womankind, alas!"

Frank was not happy at all about my remembering his mark of collegiate distinction. He kind of grinned, rather grimly, I think. After that, he more or less dropped me... evidently I was not the right sort of acquaintance for someone aspiring to a Godly life as he was.

So why did I bring up this somewhat off-colour story? As I haven't seen either tv serial or movie of "Sex and the City""Sex and the City", in the field of 'dick-lit' (assuming there exists such a genre at all) ? Anyway, I offer it herewith, gratis, to anyone taking up such a project.

-- GSC

However, I really hated all the fur wearing. Did VOGUE and Anna

Wintour finance this thing? And why did the director have to

include the scene at the end with the two women throwing

red paint on Samantha's coat? They were made to look like

two harpies. It's as if the beautiful people who don't give

a damn where their goodies come from are allowed any

legitimacy. Animals have to suffer a lot so bitches can strut

about trying to impress those less fortunate. So of course

Wintour must have had a hand in this.

Also, Chris Noth is not such a good actor. He always seemed

to be looking beyond Carrie, with poor eye contact.

But I did like it overall and the theater audience was fun and

very engaged.

Charlotte is just the best ever.

My wife dragged me to see "Sex and the City" last night. Now, I'm an old fan of the TV show, but I was expecting very little in the wake of several reviews promising no more than Ms. Zacharek's does. Imagine my surprise at finding, instead, one of the most enjoyable movies it's been my pleasure to watch. In fact, I can't imagine the film-makers doing a better job of fulfilling the hopes of HBO's "Sex"-loving throng.

Well, it take all kinds, I suppose. As for me, over and out.