Candace Bushnell, the Original Carrie, Didn't Get 'And Just Like That'

There were so many ways that "And Just Like That" was thought to be 'just not all that' by viewers, who expressed on social media their issues with numerous plot memes: Mr. Big's death, the clumsy attempt at diversity, Che Diaz, Miranda's meekness, Charlotte's cluelessness, queer stereotypes, and the general lack of snark and sex. The latter came as a result of Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) not returning for the sequel due to both professional and personal reasons.

It turns out that among those confused and not exactly wowed by the show was the real Carrie Bradshaw, novelist and journalist Candace Bushnell, whose New York Observer column about her life as a successful, professional female journalist navigating Manhattan's social scene became the basis for "Sex and the City," which ran on HBO from 1998 to 2004, as well as in two feature films in 2008 and 2010.

Asked by the New Yorker in an interview about the changes made to make the show more culturally relevant, Bushnell said she was "really startled by a lot of the decisions made in the reboot. You know, it's a television product, done with Michael Patrick King and Sarah Jessica Parker, who have both worked with HBO a lot in the past. HBO decided to put this franchise back into their hands for a variety of reasons, and this is what they came up with."

But, it turns out, she also didn't relate to "Sex and the City" after the first two seasons, in which she was a creative consultant. And she jumped the shark over the behavior of her onscreen counterpart. "I've said this, but when the character of Carrie sleeps with Mr. Big after he's married to somebody else–that's when I felt like the character's becoming something other."

She continued: "Not at all. I mean, Carrie Bradshaw ended up being a quirky woman who married a really rich guy. And that's not my story, or any of my friends' stories. But TV has its own logic."

In her recent solo, off-Broadway show "Is There Still Sex in the City?," she emphasized the difference between herself and her onscreen character. "In several places, her stage show emphasizes differences between Bushnell and Carrie, but those differences pertain to matters of men and fashion, not ideology or temperament," reported the New York Times in a preview of the show. "Carrie is flighty; Bushnell has her feet, if not her heels, firmly on the ground. While Carrie's story ultimately became a romance, Bushnell maintains extreme ambivalence about romantic relationships."

(Note: "Is There Still Sex in the City?" closed in December after Bushnell contracted Covid.)

She added to the Times: "The message that I'm delivering is probably risky enough as it is. I sit there and say, 'I'm not married, I don't have kids. And I'm grateful.'"

One of the lingering questions that persisted during "Sex and the City's" run was, how did Carrie afford those Manolo Blahniks? Many wondered how a journalist writing a weekly column for a New York newspaper could drop $500 for a pair of shoes.

It turns out, it was based on fact. Back in the 1990s, Bushnell wrote her column "Sex and the City" for the New York Observer, but at the same time she wrote a monthly column for Vogue that netted her $60,000 a year.

Bushnell tells the New Yorker in a lengthy interview that the 1990s were a real time for media. "I worked for�Vogue, writing the "People Are Talking About" column, and got paid five thousand dollars a month. The�Observer�paid less, but I could afford that, because of�Vogue. I mean, this was a time that writers were getting a�Vanity Fair�contract for six pieces and two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year. People valued writing; it wasn't considered something everyone can do. Now, because of the computer, everyone has to do it, so we think everyone�can�do it."

No. I'm really startled by a lot of the decisions made in the reboot. You know, it's a television product, done with Michael Patrick King and Sarah Jessica Parker, who have both worked with HBO a lot in the past. HBO decided to put this franchise back into their hands for a variety of reasons, and this is what they came up with.

And then, in the eighties, it's "The Bonfire of the Vanities." Money got more important, and the creative people got more and more pushed out. But, in the nineties, for me–it was a real time for media. I worked for�Vogue, writing the "People Are Talking About" column, and got paid five thousand dollars a month. The�Observer�paid less, but I could afford that, because of�Vogue. I mean, this was a time that writers were getting a�Vanity Fair�contract for six pieces and two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year. People valued writing; it wasn't considered something everyone can do. Now, because of the computer, everyone has to do it, so we think everyone�can�do it.

I don't rewatch shows, and I don't like analyzing shows–everyone's writing these recaps of "And Just Like That�.�.�." and I just do not understand it. But I happened to catch an old episode recently, from the first season. All of them were going into a building, Carrie was smoking, and they had that attitude we used to have in the nineties in New York:�We are single women in our thirties, so don't fuck with us, dudes, because guess what? So many people have fucked with us.�I think the first two seasons really captured that joy of not having to follow the rules.

I've said this, but when the character of Carrie sleeps with Mr. Big after he's married to somebody else–that's when I felt like the character's becoming something other.

Was my own world only white people? No, of course not–that's just not New York. But, for the show, that was how people cast things then, it was the way that people in TV were. I don't think anyone was consciously trying to be nasty about it; they just really didn't think.