"She got the Manolos wet, she got the Manolos wet!"
I don’t like reboots. There, I said it. I’ve never done and probably never will. They rarely live up to anything, and they just serve to infuriate true fans and followers. But when I saw the livid reaction our expert editor and fashion writer, Josefin Forsberg, had upon watching the first episode of the much-anticipated series, I couldn’t help but wonder, could it really be that bad?
While Sex And The City was never my main series (a bit more of a Desperate Housewives type of guy myself), the New York City gals did give me my fair share of drama and laughs. So while I was not planning to spend my Thursday night revisiting this long-forgotten era of my life, there I was, logging onto HBO Max for what was going to be a very interesting, almost mind-numbing, ride.
For the very scientific purposes of this article, I will try to treat this as a new spin-off series – you know, give it a little bit of leeway. Of course, I’m slightly biased by now, but it will have to do. I’ve always been a lover of trash-TV, so let’s see what my low standards make of this recent resurrection.