Then I had a thought
Carrie and Miranda, pre-SATC
At one time, a cupcake was just for kids birthday parties. Cosmo meant the magazine with the sex positions. A TV show about four single girls having a wild time referred to Rose, Blanche, Dorothy and Sophia. A baguette was a loaf of bread and expensive shoes cost $200. I missed these pre-Sex and the City days by a mile as I first moved to New York in 2007. I understand why "real" New Yorkers hate those who moved here to live the Carrie Bradshaw life.
Only I didn't. I moved here because I always loved it, I was bored with where I was (Chicago, lovely town but I was in a personal rut) and I knew there would be more jobs here. One of the lasting curses SATC has brought on the city, in addition to horrible overly sweet cupcakes and poof dresses, is the idea that every 20-something single girl with an overpriced handbag and a few pairs of high heels must be relocating to live the SATC dream. I'm no fool. I will not have a rent-controlled 5 room apartment with a walk-in closet filled with designer clothes or trot my Manolo's up and down Fifth avenue on daily shopping binges. I'm sure there are girls who step off the plane from middle-America obscurity onto this hallowed island believing this life will really happen for them. And maybe it does, or maybe they end up married in Connecticut, or maybe they move back home broke and broken.
Just don't assume because I'm here I'm looking for Manolo's, Magnolia and Mr. Big.