OK, so look. I’m just excited to see the new Sex and the City movie as the next girl, and had tentatively accepted an invite to see it with a bunch of girls this Tuesday night.
But over the last week, something strange and disconcerting has been happening.
Ladies are making serious investments in clothes, shoes and handbags—just to go to this movie. One girl I work with sported a pair of new heels every day for the last two weeks. When finally asked about it yesterday, she said, “Yeah, these are all my Sex and the City shoes. I saved this pair for last because I’m going to the movie tonight.” She also made her brother send her a ridiculously expensive pair of jeans from LA for the occasion.
Later in the day, another woman with whom I work came over to my desk in a brightly patterned silk top. “Cute shirt,” I said. To which she replied, “Oh, thanks. It’s my Sex and the City Shirt!”
These are two small instances after a week of wondering what is wrong with my gender. Maybe I should look a little harder about what this says about me, but it’s never crossed my mind to dress up, let alone buy a new wardrobe to see this movie.
Anyway, I’m 90% sure I’m going to turn down the invite this Tuesday; I’ve emailed a friend of D’s who is gauranteed not to make such a huge fuss over the flick. If she already has plans to see it, I’ll go to an afternoon matinee by myself on my day off. Which might make me pathetic. But not nearly pathetic as those spending a grip of money to outfit themselves for this movie.