It is fair to say that I love everything about New York. The fashion, the lights, the hustle and bustle, the smell of street pretzels, hell I even love the angry taxi drivers. But my biggest love about it – is a television programme that came out of it. No not Friends – although I do love that – but Sex and the City.
I have been a huge fan of Sex and the City from the young age of 10 when I went downstairs one night, way after my bed time to see my Mum, who was watching the 6th series finale on Channel 4 when Mr. Big races to the oh-so romantic Paris to save Carrie from the quite honestly creepy, Aleksandr Petrovsky. I wondered to myself then what the huge deal was when I saw my Mum welling up with happiness, but my poor little naive self did not understand or appreciate the love of love that consumes every female on this planet.
Anyway, nine years on, and a more suitable age; (being thirteen and watching a sex scene with your Mum isn’t the nicest thing), I can admit that now, I understand everything that little Fern never even thought about. However; on a boring Tuesday afternoon, after re-watching my Sex and the City box set for the nth-hundredth time, I decided that I wanted to see where it all began for the beautiful and very fabulous – Carrie Bradshaw, by watching The Carrie Diaries. And all I can say is that just like the adult series, I was hooked. Thirteen episodes down and one and a half weeks later, I have finished every episode. And loved every minute.
As silly as it may sound, but watching both Sex and the City and the Carrie Diaries inspired me to really start taking writing seriously again. I have become a bit lax over the summer as any other student becomes. But seeing how she started off with just a pen and paper, dreaming big – which led to her having her own column in the city newspaper just made me think maybe anyone could do it if they work hard enough. I think maybe Candace Bushnell designed the Carrie Bradshaw, not just on herself, but as a representation of every woman out there. Dreams can come true if you make it happen. And oddly enough, despite it being fictional, it made me realize what I want to see of my writing career, or journalism career in general.
Nevertheless, I find it difficult to be inspired when living in Bournemouth. Yes it’s a pretty town and it is filled with amazing sights and people, but it doesn’t hold as much opportunity as a big city could. I want to be able to walk down a street and see a crazy piece of clothing or person or artwork that could instantly make me want to write or blog or design. Unfortunately, walking down a little road and having to pick up your dog’s crap doesn’t involve that kind of inspiration!
This may not make much sense to some people, and I may sound like an absolute idiot for idolizing and taking inspiration from a fictional character, but as long as it’s motivating me, then that’s all that matters. I hope that in a couple of years I can look back at this and see that some of my aspirations have been achieved, and that I am a step closer to fulfilling my life long goals.
And as much as I wish I could be writing this from a cute little studio apartment in Greenwich Village in Manhattan, with the world outside my window – I’m sadly writing this on my bed in my small bedroom in the town of Bournemouth, listening to the sound of nothing but rain outside.
Oh well, maybe one day. A girl can dream.
Sex and the Town just doesn’t have the right ring to it.