For years, HBO’s Sex and the City made New York City an excitable frontier of moneyed men, inexplicably well-off women (despite shitty writing jobs that realistically pay nothing), and a world where everyone is someone else’s plus-one. And that frontier was then seized upon by basically every Murray Hill city-import under the age of 30.
Thankfully, the new film will possibly give cause for those same people to send themselves to World-renowned real-estate bust market Abu Dubai, where a holy war between Louboutin-heeled jobless I-Bakers’ ex-wives and the Nation of Islam will collide. No, really.
This comes via the New York Daily News, who spoils much of the new movie in an article today. Here’s the setup: a bunch of rich women are having mid-life malaise. Bitch, bitch, whine, moan, “I need to get out of New York and ruining Montauk won’t do,” what to do? Answer:
The antidote is an all-expenses-paid trip to Abu Dhabi, thanks to Samantha, who has been asked to rep a hotel there.
While the rest of us deal with our problems by, well, dealing with them, these women get a grand escape. You’ll need to suspend disbelief a bit and give in to the fantasy to walk down the yellow brick road with Carrie and company. The clothes, naturally, are the real stars of this film, but it’s hard not to scoff when Carrie sets off for a day of shopping at the souk, dressed like Glinda the Good Witch in a “J’Adore Dior” tee and a ball gown skirt. It’s what she’s wearing when she bumps into Aidan, a meeting that causes a storm, as does the inevitable clash between four of the most liberated women on Earth and a conservative culture whose females are veiled.
Just because we’re nice, a tip for those who follow the ladies over: “Allahu Akbar” is not the latest Eugene Remm-opened restaurant-nightclub, and you can not get cupcake-dusted mini-donuts there. That said: Godspeed. And if it doesn’t work out, there’s always LA.
Oh, also, guess what song is now officially ruined?
The long-awaited sequel opens with soaring shots of that skyscraper, set to Jay-Z and Alicia Keys’ love letter to N.Y.C., “Empire State of Mind.”
Yeah, that’ll do it.