This week in Manhattan, the land of visible bra straps and questionable haircuts, Carrie can’t help but ask: is she good in bed? Are any of her friends? And how do you know? Charlotte’s pretty sure she’s not, when her guy falls asleep literally mid-deed. Sam’s positive she’s hot stuff, especially after two of her gay male friends invite her to a threesome. And Carrie’s new guy is clearly impressed by her moves — but is that just because he’s a recovering alcoholic? Also Miranda buys new bedsheets.
Good news first: Carrie’s hair is looking fab again. The state of her hair has been as on-again/off-again as her relationship with Big these last few weeks. Remember how she was all California tan last week with all her bright minidresses? This week she’s bringing a more San Fran type of Cali style in a boho dress with half-updo.
This sort of breezy look isn’t part of her usual repertoire, but I’ve got to say she’s working it. The hem is maybe a little weirdly short, but then again, she’s also short, so maybe it’s all good? Charlotte is obviously a disaster, but she’s mid-crisis. How could her piece of the week fall asleep in flagrante? Totes humiliating.
Carrie shapeshifts into a blonde Zooey Deschanel in this adorable retro-styled azure sundress.
The fit on this dress is sick. Check the bodice:
And it’s not that it’s been carefully tailored, it’s got this sweet back detail for a custom fit:
For all of her fashion misses, it’s worth it for a sweet win like this. Oh, and that dude she’s with? All you need to know is that a) they met when he accidentally threw a lit cigarette at her and b) he’s one month away from a year of sobriety. He isn’t supposed to date anyone for another month, but he and Carrie and like, “What’s the worst that can happen?” (Never a good question to ask on this show)
Part of the Alcoholics Anonymous thing is “one day at a time,” right? That could be Carrie’s fashion manifesto as well, as her look veers so drastically from day to day it’s like she’s constantly in costume. The look below is more 80s than what her junior doppelganger wears on The Carrie Diaries.
This episode was shot in 2000. Carrie and Sam actually mention IN THIS SCENE that it’s the year 2000. So what is going on with the HIGH WAISTED ACID WASH JEAN SKIRT? That is slightly hipster cool in 2013, but I’m fairly certain this was not a normal outfit in 2000.
In other news, Sam looks flawless as ever, and not just by comparison. The subtly different shades of red in her power suit keep her from looking too matchy and the fit is perfectly tailored as always.
Sam upstages Carrie again at brunch, as Carrie serves up the first of several napkin/bandana tops this week while Sam keeps it classy with a striped tank.
I’m dying at this Mariah Carey circa Heartbreaker top. We all know Carrie’s got a sick bod, but this makes it look like she’s got handkerchiefs on her boobs. Her boobs are also contorted into a sort of pancake scenario that makes me question why, out of all her outfits, this is the one she failed to wear a bra with.
She’s looking oh-so-iconic Carrie Bradshaw in this floral mini with ghetto fab gold accessories. This is sort of the sartorial muse for a lot of Aria’s ensembles on PLL.
All the shopping came in handy for the following montage of dates with her Recovering Alcoholic beau.
Date #1 brought a leopard-print ruched tube top and black skinny jeans.
No kiss goodnight.
So for Date #2, she went in her best Sookie Stackhouse drag.
Still no luck, but I’m liking this look.
So, for Date #3, she went all-out with another handkerchief top (this time with visible bra straps) and white capris.
Not sure if it was this outfit that finally helped out, or if it was the way she more-or-less hauled him up to her place. Either way, a new addiction was born… to her sweet, sweet lovin’.
Note: Carrie’s devotion to visible bra straps is not limited to the daytime. Apparently bras — and necklaces — are necessary even under nightgowns.
Girl chooses a look and sticks to it. You gotta respect that.
Also in the bras-worn-at-all-times-always department is Charlotte, whose sheer bra is so NSFW I can only show you this slightly-covered-up version:
She’s worried it’s her bedroom skills that made her guy doze off during the act, but maybe it’s her weird compulsion to always wear a bra? Just a suggestion.
Anyway, like the Type A keener she is, Charlotte enrolls in a tantric sex workshop to learn how to please her guy. While she’s super-attentive in this sexy secretary ensemble…
… the rest of the ladies make fun of the proceedings because they think they know it all already.
Fair enough. I mean, Samantha could probably teach this class. Love her casual nautical look here, especially compared with Miranda’s grey curtain-skirt and Carrie’s randomly visible pink bra straps and tube top pillowcase.
To show just how advanced Sam’s sexual prowess is, she’s invited (mainly by reputation) to join two of her gay male friends in their first-ever sexual experience with a woman. Imma be honest here, though, the outfit she wore when she received this invitation wasn’t her hottest look. This is a little too muumuu/kimono by way of mosquito netting and the Martha Stewart bedsheet collection.
That being said, of course she’s up for the threesome. I mean, look at the dudes who issued the invite:
Sam busted out a lacy peignoir with a vintage Hollywood feel for the main event.
Tragically, the boys realize soon after this screencap that as much as Sam is a Sex Goddess, they don’t swing that way.
Charlotte finds more success, post-workshop, as she blows her guy’s… er, mind… with her new skillz. Loving her black vintage lingerie and JBF hair.
When she drops the little-girl baby pink looks, Charlotte could give Sam a run for the money as Sex Goddess of the East Side.
You may have noticed a lack of Miranda in this recap. That’s because she got the Worst Plotline Ever, in that, she didn’t even really get a plot. The first time we see her, she’s working a handkerchief top similar to Carrie’s, but in more redhead-friendly colours as she — wait for it — makes her bed.
Yes, friends, while the other ladies are busy gettin’ busy, Miranda decides to remedy the bad karma of her bedroom by purchasing new bedsheets.
Then, at brunch, she wears this screenprinted top with what looks like ladies’ lower legs right over her clavicle.
Not her finest look. While the blues and browns are a good palette, the placement of those legs makes her look like some sort of mutant head/legs creature.
Miranda’s mojo goes further downhill as she’s the accidental recipient of the tantric sex instructor male assistant’s… well… it’s there in her hair.
Remember in like season three, she falls in the shower and throws out her back, and Carrie’s boyfriend has to come help her up and she’s naked? Why does she always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop on this show?
Anyway, things wrap up well in the Worst Plotline Ever because she likes her new bedsheets. Or whatever.
Although, I bet Cynthia Nixon enjoyed having a week off from awkward nude scenes or making out with guys who look like Skipper.
Anyway, Carrie’s relationship with the recovering alcoholic goes quickly downhill (who could have seen that coming? Oh that’s right, everyone) after she asks for some space, and her reacts with this Streetcar Named Desire moment.
Except not romantic, like, at all. Especially after she blows him off and he runs back down the street totally naked. And drunk.
You’d think things could only go up from here for Carrie’s love life, but you would be wrong. Check back next week for the return of Big… with some Very Big News. Uh-oh…