An Open Letter to Sarah Jessica Parker Regarding Sex and the City 3

Dear SJP (can I call you SJP? No? Sarah J? Maybe?),

For years you and your ilk misled young writers like myself into thinking that being a writer was in fact an actual JOB that one made actual MONEY DOLLARS for. So many dollars in fact, that you could live in a lavish one-bedroom apartment in New York City sans roaches or kleptomaniac Craigslist roommate and buy a different pair of furry or fuzzy or feathery Jimmy Choos every single week. (The Frenemy writes eloquently about this charade on her blog). But we forgave you because we really liked your outfits, and because your single girl problems were like our single girl problems, and because we liked Miranda’s snarky jokes about Samantha. But six seasons, two films, 2,687,995 outfits, and one cringe-worthy Arabian adventure later, we think we have gotten the gist of it.

Now it’s come to my attention via this Marie Claire UK article that you are considering doing another Sex and the City film. You mentioned that there is still ‘one more small, important story to tell’. If it’s such a little, tiny story, may I suggest you save it for a one-hour Lifetime special? Or perhaps a mini-series on the Oxygen network? What I’m really trying to say is PLEASE for the love of all that is holy and the minimal good will the women of the world still hold for SATC, don’t beat this dead horse into the ground with a Gucci shovel encased in Swarovski crystals and then pour liquid napalm on it and blow it to high heaven.

While we’re slightly intrigued at the prospect of Blake Lively playing a younger Carrie Bradshaw, we don’t think we can handle one more giant extravaganza of inexplicable wardrobe changes (who wears six outfits in one day?) and Carrie’s inspid musings (“I couldn’t help but wonder, are children and chicness mutually exclusive???”). We will even forgive you SATC: Arabian Nights if you just do us a solid and let this whole thing go.

Don’t do it Bradshaw. Just don’t.