Picture it: Cold, dark theatre, opening credits begin, drinks and food in place and Sex and the City’s biggest fan (a.k.a. me) sitting with her arms crossed, scowling at the loud, gaudy mess that is Sex and the City 2. I’ve been disappointed and heartbroken before by many men, but never …EVER…have I had my heart and soul ripped from my body, thrown in a garbage disposal and fed to the hobo on the street the way writer/producer/director Michael Patrick King has done. It is my belief that Mr. King has safely secured his placement in hell when he began making this movie. I am a huge fan of the Sex and the City television series. I own every season on DVD and have just about every single episode memorized. It’s a clever, witty show and to me has always been ahead of the curve when it comes to fashion. In fact, costume designer Patricia Field was a huge influence in my decision to study fashion design. So just realize that I know my shit, and I’m not pulling complaints out of my ass when I say these things.
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