Just the Girls

Last night, we participated in a cinematic and socialogical milestone. We went to the premiere of Sex and the City.

The movie was everything fans could have hoped for. A reunion of friends. And not just friends on the screen.

Whatever naysayers' sour predictions, the movie was a smashing success. It brought us Mr. Big, fashion, intimacy, heartbreak and healing. The critics who panned it missed the point. It wasn't about the movie at all.

I don't think there has been a gathering of women this large since the suffragette movement. Together, we admired each others dresses, and shoes. Together, we laughed; we cried; we gasped; we clapped in enthusiasm.

I have lived in this city for many years, and I cannot remember another time I felt so close to total strangers except during the blackout a few years ago. This was more fun.

It was the sisters movement, inspired by four fictional women who became our friends for 6 years. It doesn't matter if the movie had plot holes, or if the ending was tight. What mattered is that we shared an experience unlike any other.

The ladies I gathered for this outing and I raised our cosmos to toast friendship. We talked about work and babies and men over sushi. We might not have been wearing designer clothing or accessories, but we felt like a million dollars. No movie has ever made us feel that way. So, to all reviewers who panned this movie, you missed a lot. You missed the experience. You missed the bonding. You missed the real reason Sex and the City captivated so many. It made us fall in love with ourselves. So put that in your Jimmy Choos and wear it.