Carrie grew up. And it's triggering us.

Is And Just Like That simply an uncomfortable midlife mirror?

Hands up if you’re hate watching And Just Like That (henceforth AJLT) right now?

I thought so. Me too.

I hate it so much (and love SATC SO MUCH) that I’ve gone back for yet another rewatch of the original, plus I’m listening to the delightful and insightful podcast “Sentimental and the City” from Dolly Alderton and Caroline O’Donoghue. (This is an excellent substack on both the podcast and the show btw.)

But this isn’t yet another article about why SATC is a superior TV show to AJLT. I mean it is. Of course it is. But if we’re honest, that’s not what is really bothering us is it.

I think I’ve figured it out.

Carrie grew up. And we don’t like it.

I mean, all of the characters grew up. Of course they did.

And of the original trio (RIP Samantha - I hope you’re loving life in “London”), both Miranda, with her mid life romantic and professional pivot, and Charlotte, with her “I have it all, and yet I still don’t have time for me” storylines, are perhaps the most obvious and recognisable on screen. Even if they’re rendered as crudely as your five year old’s latest artwork.

I see myself in both of them. On the edge of menopause (teetering actually and losing my balance - that’s the next post). I went through my own professional pivot at the magic age of 44. I regularly bemoan the lack of time I have to myself and FOR myself.

But until episode 4 of season 3 (yep, it’s a long haul), I hadn’t really considered how Carrie had changed. Perhaps evolved is a better word, perhaps not. Let’s find out shall we?

Carrie has always been the character written in bold Sharpie. To know Carrie is to be simultaneously frustrated, inspired, excited, disappointed - ALL THE THINGS.

• I mean, remember when she showed up at church to spy on Big and his mother?

• When she accepted a downpayment for her apartment from Charlotte after calling her out earlier in the episode for being rich and not “helping” her friends?

• When she ditched Miranda for a piece of veal??

(And obviously, when she did all the terrible things. Mostly to Aidan. More on that below.)

The one thing you could always rely on Carrie for, was that she was going to be messy.

To be all in on a selfish/bold/downright stupid course of action. In pursuit of ONE GOAL - her happiness at all costs.

As a 20 something, I KNEW this Carrie. For of course I was her.

But now? Most of us would say we don’t recognise THIS Carrie - the one in her 50s - at all. She doesn’t play according to our Carrie rule book. This is now…

• The Carrie who accepts sleeping in the guest annex of her boyfriend’s house, you know, the boyfriend she bought a townhouse in Manhattan for, so she doesn’t upset his family dynamic. Even when his divorced wife happily brings her boyfriend to the house for family occasions.

• The Carrie who accepts a FIVE YEAR pause on their relationship, and all of the “rules” that seemingly get imposed with it. (I mean, the postcards, c’mon.)

• The Carrie who sits silently at the dinner table whilst that complicated family dynamic plays out and explodes, right in front of her.

And seemingly, the Carrie who talks more slowly, more thoughtfully, at a lower pitch and about serious stuff. Like dining tables as a metaphor for romantic commitment. (I mean, we’ve all been there…)

We’re all horrified. We have the ick. We don’t recognise “this Carrie.”

And yet. We do.

At least, I do. Maybe you do too?

This is the Carrie that has been through some stuff.

In our 20s and into our 30s, we generally don’t have stuff do we? I sailed through most of mine, with one serious heartbreak, sure, but not much else. I was pretty unscathed by life, love, work. Was everything perfect? No. But it didn’t feel HEAVY. I didn’t feel the weight of it all.

Except that one time. But that heartbreak led to great things, as they often do, so I can now look back on that with gratitude.

I graduated university, entered the world of work, lived and socialised in London, moved continents, and even got married, all without it leaving much of a trace for my San Francisco therapist to pillage. (Except that one thing.)

Until.

And this is where it gets uncomfortable.

Because I now recognise myself in this Carrie. The one who’s a bit more tentative. Not as messy (although my husband would dispute this I fear). Not as loud (And again). Who listens more. (Yep.) Accepts more in other people (and perhaps in myself.) And accepts that life isn’t going to go 100% how we need or want it to, all of the time.

Life is messier now. So perhaps we can’t be?

And sure, we can rail against it and the dying of that particular light as much as we want to. But fighting it won’t fix messy problems.

It won’t fix people that are never coming back. And whose loss resonates throughout generations and affects your closest relationships every single day.

It won’t change the real and complex issues that accompany our journey into midlife and beyond. When we feel responsible (and perhaps are) for other people’s wellbeing and not just our own.

When we are changed forever by life that we’ve now experienced.

And when that changes how we show up and how we navigate all the messiness that is yet to come.

Perhaps we know we can’t fight it, ignore, or simply run away from it anymore.

We have to stay in the moment and sit with it. Until a path forward starts to emerge, one small step at a time. Sometimes taking a step back. Then inching forward again.

We learn to see people for who they really are. Not who we want them to be (we all want SATC Aidan back, but that’s…not realistic.) Or even how we may think we need them to be. And we navigate our closest relationships more carefully.

Because if WE’VE been changed by life that has happened to us…

So have they.

So perhaps WE can’t be as messy or careless or selfish anymore.

That’s what I see Carrie doing in AJLT and in particular, in season 3 in her relationship with Aidan. (In my more immature moments though, I still wonder if this is all just an elaborate long con that Aidan is playing on Carrie for her cheating on him with Big - a 25 year revenge arc that will culminate in an Agatha Christie style shocking denoument in the drawing room - we can but hope.)

The bold, raw, messy, selfish Carrie? Shaped by actual tragedy and actual life.

Has she changed? Or evolved?

I’m not sure people do really change deep down. So I’m going with evolution.

Shaped by events, people, relationships and a compassionate realisation that life leaves a mark.

It leaves a trace and we’re all better for it. But it doesn’t feel good at the time. And it’s certainly not as sexy and alluring as being the messy raw one. It doesn’t give us those great stories to share over one too many cocktails. (Mocktails in my case, I mean, evolution.)

It just gives us more for our therapist to unpack.

Like I said, not sexy. Not fun.

I think that’s why we don’t like “this Carrie.”

This Carrie is far more like us in midlife than we care to admit. Ok, she’s not yet taking an afternoon nap (Michael Patrick King - please get on this) and I haven’t seen her neck her HRT supplements with the wild abandon that I used to down shots with, but she’s there.

She’s in it with us. As a proper grown up this time (albeit with a kitten called Shoe…)

Tentatively shaping her next relationship. Knowing she can’t be the messy one this time. Because it’s already too complex, too layered and too damned difficult. And because she’s clear on what (and who) she wants but now knows, it’s not all about her.

We miss the old Carrie. Because (I’m going to have to spell it out aren’t I)…

Because we mourn our old selves. Of course we do.

That can be a devastating and sobering realisation. Yet also an incredibly powerful one.

My own came when I navigated tremendous loss in my own extended family. Life would never be the same again.

And again, when I was seriously ill whilst I was pregnant. Life would never be the same again.

And again now, when I consider the future, as I close one chapter of womanhood (ok that term really does give me the ick) just as my daughter prepares to open hers. Life will never be the same again.

Carrie realises this. And so we do.

Not sexy. But perhaps the realest she’s ever gotten.

(Ok except for that one time in SATC when she tried every day to get her dress back from the dry cleaners and it was always shut. It’s 2025 and I’m still living this nightmare with a rapidly expiring “collection code” on Amazon lockers…)