RedPoppy's Sex And The City 2 Review

Like most Sex And The City fans I was brimming with excitement to once again see the faces of Carrie Bradshaw, Samantha Jones, Miranda Hobbes, and Charlotte York, and watch the old girls dressed up in their $10M movie wardrobe budget finery. I couldnt wait for the main eye candy, aka THE CLOTHES, but forty minutes into SATC's 2 hours and 27 minutes 'romp' I started to get seat bum fatigue, thanks in part to an unsatisfying silk-thin plot which turns the Fabulous Four of glamorous New York City into a bunch of ungrateful complainers on their way to visit Lawrence of Arabia...

But let's get back to The Clothes! After all SATC is also known as Fashion And The City, and on the whole it did not disappoint. Miranda in particular looked the best she's ever looked: hair and makeup were flawless (except for the scary perm she sported in the karaoke scene), and save for a few disastrous clothing picks (as soon as Miranda landed in Abu Dhabi her wardrobe went south), I loved her all-white skirt/jacket/fedora 'Out of Africa' ensemble for an Abu Dhabi tour of the souk, and the gorgeous studded black dress she wore to Stanford & Anthony's swan-filled wedding. As for Carrie, I loved the J'Adore Dior vintage shirt and purple Zac Posen tafetta ball skirt look for her Souk jaunt with Miranda, and I LOVED all the Halston Heritage dresses she gracefully paraded throughout, especially the blue sparkly number (and Carrie dares to whine that she and John James Preston aka Big lost their 'sparkle'...)

I'm sure Carrie's heels were equally gaze-worthy but all I can remember is more Louboutins than Manolos! Samantha's red Karaoke dress with 'poke someone's eyes out' shoulder armor by The Blonds was a Samantha Jones standout, as was Charlotte's red and white striped traveling suit. There were also some fabulous hats, and necklaces, and handbags, and bracelets galore, but possibly the worst look of the movie belonged to all the ladies when they changed into some really obscene 'camel riding' attire for a desert romp, looking more like the opening act for a Vegas circus show...

While the first Sex And The City film brought a happy, if bumpy, ending to Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte's years of singleton suffering which we all identified, laughed, and cried with, the second installment gives each of the characters a seemingly artificial reason to whine and complain, and make a mockery of SATC's loyal fans in the meantime. Why oh why didn't they make those 1980's flashback scenes longer?? Starting with Samantha's menopause, Miranda's frustrations with a chauvinistic boss, Charlotte's motherhood and perky nanny woes, and Carrie's lackluster relationship with Big (which by the way bored me to tears), none of those concerns felt convincing enough to take us out of the New York City we know and love.

As soon as the Fabulous Four touch down in Abu Dhabi (Morocco was actually the stand-in thanks to a no sex in their city filming ban by the UAE) all hell breaks loose. Sure, the all-expenses paid palatial hotel suite with personal butlers was eye-poppingly luxurious, as well as the chauffeur-driven sedans which conveniently trekked each of the gals through the desert, plus there was that powerful scene in the hotel suite bar between an emotional Miranda and Charlotte, but I could practically feel myself cringing as soon as Samantha (stealing scenes right and left) opened her Westernly mouth and suitcase, filled with a week's worth of revealing outfits better suited for a jaunt to Palm Beach. Throw in a very un-nostalgic appearance by Aidan, a handsome cocky Danish architect, an inevitable arrest, a horrifying display of souk brazenness, and I couldn't help but wish for an Aleksandr Petrovsky mirage...
xoRedPoppy

Photos courtesy of dailymail.co.uk, usmagazine.com