Due to circumstances beyond my control, I am very late in seeing Sex in the City. I was supposed to go to a press screening over two weeks ago but it didn't happen etc boringly etc.
Now I have seen it. What point were they trying to make by scripting Hudson to fall in love with the most hideous Vuitton bag ever produced?
Other than that, it was two and a half hours of ceaseless frocks, Chanel 2.55s and their variants and a hunch that if Carrie had not come across Big in that closet she might never have forgiven him.
Now I must go and find a pink drink.
No comments:
Post a Comment