A little past 10:00, I was dressed to the nines at Brasserie 81⁄2.
Located on the corner of "right now" and "everyone was there," it was the place to see and be seen.
Oh, look at that one.
Oh, wow. Mary, hail a cab!
Do you think he's a model?
A model what?
A model citizen? A model home?
A model airplane?
I think he's the "dirty-haired Gucci guy" with clean hair.
Wow, he's so versatile.
Why don't you go over and say hello?
Oh, he's gorgeous.
The only way I could get a guy like that interested in me would be to pay him. Stanford, my love, there's no need for you to enter "Hookerville."
Carrie, I know what I look like.
Then you can't see what I see.
Carrie! Hey!
Lynne Camron was a much sought after fashion show producer, as valuable to a show's success as Valium or Velcro.
I just told Damian, you have just so f*cking saved my life.
I did? Oh, sorry.
This is my boyfriend Damian.
I use the term "boyfriend" loosely, as Damian is clearly a h*m*.
Well, in that case, this is my boyfriend, Stanford.
You so have to be in this fashion show I'm doing.
A mix of models and New York people with style.
And no one is more New York or has more style than you.
Lynne, I'm a writer.
You're f*cking doing my show if I have to hunt you down, skin you alive, and have one of the other models f*cking wear you.
I'll call you next week.
Could this place be any louder?
Ugh!
Bye.
I am so coming.
To what?
I'm not a model.
Then you can't see what I see.
Hmm...
Um, I'll start with a salad with extra blue cheese dressing.
Thank you. Thanks.
Are the vegetables on the "veggie plate" organic?
They have "beef pot pie" on the menu. What do you think?
I'll just have a cup of hot water with lemon.
Thank you. Thanks.
Isn't it hard to eat just organic all the time?
Oh, it is so hard.
Last night I could not stop thinking about a Big Mac.
I finally had to get dressed, go out, and pick up a guy.
Talk about a "happy meal."
Well, lady, you have never looked better.
Your body is amazing.
Well, I hope so.
I'm having nude photographs taken on Wednesday.
What are you gonna do?
Have postcards made up to hand out to prospective dates?
This is not about a man's approval.
This photo is just for me.
So when I'm old, and my tits are in my shoes, I can look at it and say, "Damn, I was hot."
Isn't that a little narcissistic?
No one thinks it's narcissistic when you get your seventh grade picture taken.
You weren't naked in that.
That we know of.
Look, I like my body.
I'm getting these pictures taken. What's the big problem?
No problem. You're my hero.
I think it's fantastic that you can just put it out there.
I can't even say yes to being in some charity fashion show.
"New York Style"? Yeah.
You were asked to be part of that? That's huge.
All the top designers are doing it.
Wait, they want you to be a model?
No, no, no, it's a mix of real people and models.
I know the producer.
Carrie, you have to do it, you live for fashion.
I do not live for fashion.
How many fashion shows did you drag me to during fashion week?
Eight. What's your point?
Why are you turning down the chance to actually be in one?
I do not belong on a runway.
Runways are for models, not writers.
What's the difference between strutting down a runway and the way you strut down Fifth Avenue?
Strut?
Do I strut? Am I a strutter?
I think it'd be fun.
I was a teen model when the Ralph Lauren store opened in New Haven.
Okay, it's amazing I was able to keep my lunch down just now.
I just...
I cannot imagine walking down a runway while people sit there and judge me.
No one would judge you.
Oh, we judge models all the time.
But you're not a model. You're one of the real people.
Exactly. And I don't want people to think that I can't see the difference between a model and me.
Oh, who gives a f*ck what people think?
This is a fabulous opportunity.
Honey... you'll probably get to keep the clothes.
I thought of that!
I'd do it in a New York minute.
So would I.
What do you think, mutey?
While Miranda would never dream of walking on a runway, she had no problem running on one.
♪ She looks like a flower But she stings like a bee ♪
♪ Like every girl in history ♪
♪ She bangs, she bangs ♪
♪ I'm wasted by the way ♪
♪ She moves, she moves ♪
♪ No one ever Looked so fi... ♪ I happen to know you were on that treadmill for longer than 30 minutes.
That's illegal here at Crunch Fitness.
I'm, uh, I'm starting to train for the marathon.
First time.
Wow! Good for you.
I was the captain of my high school track team, but the marathon? Uh-uh.
I'm Dave.
Miranda.
Well, have a good workout.
That's it?
Is there more?
I hope so.
I've been watching you for months.
And I think that you are very sexy.
So what's the problem?
He said, "I think you're very sexy."
And?
I was wearing no makeup, and my Hanes $3.00 old man's undershirt.
Nice.
I just can't believe that a guy would think that I was sexy.
Okay, I'm hanging up now.
No, I'm serious.
Smart, yes. Sometimes cute. But never sexy.
Sexy is the thing I try to get them to see me as after I win them over with my personality.
You win men over with your personality?
They want you to be a model?
Okay, I'm hanging up now.
Later that night, I got to thinking about Narcissus.
A man so consumed with his own image, he drowned in it.
Did he have no best friends to mirror back a healthier view of himself?
And why is it that we can see our friends perfectly, but when it comes to ourselves, no matter how hard we look, do we ever see ourselves clearly?
Samantha, on the other hand, saw herself a little too clearly.
Okay, Samantha...
Tiger, here, has a variety of music choices to ease you into the sh**t and help you to feel more comfortable.
Tiger?
Yeah, I've got some Steely Dan...
I'm comfortable.
Okay. Camera, Tiger...
Tiger?
Yeah, yes, sir.
Do you like your gynecologist?
Yeah, she's amazing. Why?
I think I might want to see someone else.
What's happening?
Well, Trey and I are still just talking.
We're not ready to move back in yet...
No, what's happening with your vag*na?
Shh.
Sweetie, I'm not bugged. It's just us listening.
Maybe a yeast infection.
But my gynecologist says no.
But something's definitely off.
What are the symptoms?
I don't want to talk about this.
Can you just call my machine and leave her number?
Hey, do you know anyone that Stanford could go out with?
Hmm. If we don't find him someone he's gonna start dating hookers.
Hookers, ew!
Mm. Exactly.
Charlotte? Hmm?
Would you say that I'm strutting right now?
Charlotte decided for Stanford Blatch it would have to be someone cute, someone with style, someone like...
Anthony Marantino, her wedding gown stylist.
What? Anthony, hi!
It's Charlotte York MacDougal.
Sorry, thought it was my mother.
Fifteen phone calls to make sure I get her the cheapest possible sheets from Bed Bath and friggin' Beyond.
I was wondering if you were dating anyone right now.
I'm dating everyone right now, why?
I have this friend, Stanford...
What's he look like?
He is adorable.
Who would play him?
In a movie, who would play him?
I don't know...
Ed Harris.
Yeah. A younger Ed Harris.
That's hot.
And speaking of hot, Miranda ended her first date with Captain Crunch.
That was fun.
I hope I didn't talk too much.
I think the only words you actually said all night were, "Well, that was fun."
God, you are so sexy.
What?
You don't think so?
Maybe he was right. After all, who was Miranda to argue with the captain?
Hello?
Miss m*therf*cker, why have you not returned my last 200 phone calls?
Lynne.
I really don't think that I should do this show.
I mean, come on. I am not a model.
And as much as I would like to think that I could...
Carrie, you're in or you're out. I don't have time for this.
I'm sure Dolce & Gabbana can find someone else to dress.
Dolce & Gabbana?
Each designer picks the person they want to dress.
Dolce & Gabbana picked me?
Yes, fuckette.
And those are some picky Italians.
Um...
Do you think that I would be able to keep the outfit?
What's up, love?
Oh, I'm coming. Sorry.
Oh, me likey.
Perfect in the bust and the waist, turn.
Turn, love. Turn, love.
Do we likey? Oh, no likey the length.
We'd have to take it up about four feet.
Yeah, I know, I'm short. I'm too short.
No. But I'm very, very comfortable in heels.
Honestly, the higher the better.
So y'know, feel free to put me up in the big gal shoes.
Walk, love, walk.
If we gave it to Heidi, we wouldn't have to take it up at all.
Heidi Klum?
Yes. Turn, love, turn. Yes, and trot back.
Trot?
Trot. Good, good, good.
Oh, look what the p*ssy's dragged in.
Hello, Oscar.
We're just calling me "O" now, love.
Oh. Who's this? Carrie Bradshaw.
Our "New York Style" model.
Model? God, no.
No, no, no, no. No, I'm a writer.
I'm Paul Denai, I'm a photographer. I'm working...
Oh, sure! I love...
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
No, I'm sorry.
I just... I know your photographs.
Ah. Well, I'm just doing a little behind the scenes book about fashion week.
Do you mind if I sh**t your fitting?
Oh, sorry, that was, I wasn't ready.
So go ahead.
That's the point. Don't mind me.
I like the element of surprise.
I could give you a surprise, love.
Now, what's your opinion, love?
Oh, me love? Or him love? You, love.
Oh, I don't know, whatever you think.
No, changed my mind. Got something better.
Oh.
Oh. Well, that was bad.
I'm sorry, I'm very uncomfortable having my photograph taken.
How does a girl who doesn't like having her picture taken wind up in a fashion show?
I'm in it for the free goods.
Well, maybe if I explained how a camera works over a glass of wine sometime.
Well, I've never been a gal to turn down a free lesson.
Or a free dress!
Here it is! Do we likey?
Oh, we likey!
And speaking of uncomfortable...
Okay, you can put your legs down now.
It is not a yeast infection.
It's not?
I have an entire file of women, all with the same symptoms, itching, stinging, burning.
All of them think they have a yeast infection.
It's not. It could be vulvodynia.
Is it serious?
No, it's mostly just uncomfortable.
We can get it under control.
I'm gonna prescribe a light antidepressant.
But I'm not depress...
It's not for you. It's for your vag*na.
Your vag*na's depressed?
The mood elevator sort of corrects the imbalance.
Wait a minute, how do you know your vag*na's depressed?
There are symptoms.
Like what? It can't meet its deadline?
It always wants to go to Krispy Kreme?
Oh, "Ha, ha, it's so funny, my vag*na's depressed!"
Stop, I might have vulvodynia. Vulva-what-ya?
So, every day, I have to keep a vag*na journal.
No, come on. A "Dear vag*na, why so blue?" kind of journal?
"Dear vag*na, guess who I have a crush on?"
No, more like, "Itchy today, not itchy."
Sounds like a bestseller.
Ready to order?
Um, I guess we're still waiting.
Oh, but you know, could I have a hot water and lemon? Thanks.
Um, I'm fine, but, Charlotte, maybe you're "hmm-hmm" would like an order of fries.
I guess not. Thank you.
Sorry I'm late. Hi.
I had to pick up my nude contact sheets.
Look.
Okay, but only until the food arrives.
Charlotte, I want your professional
"art eye" opinion.
That's not very arty.
I can see your... everything.
Oh, that's the full frontal.
I just did that to warm up.
You should have warned me, really.
Well, what's the big deal? It's just a vag*na.
It's magnified.
I've never even seen mine that close.
Oh, come on, you've never seen yourself
"up close and personal"?
Carrie, have you seen yours that close?
How'd I get involved?
Charlotte, you've never looked at yourself with a hand mirror?
Oh, my God!
Honey, I insist you go home right now and take a look.
Or better yet, take my compact and make a quick trip to the ladies room.
I don't want to look.
I think it's ugly.
Well, maybe that's why it's depressed.
What did I miss?
On their second date, Miranda did most of the talking.
She was feeling confident and sexy.
I like my life.
I love my job. I love my friends.
She couldn't believe how comfortable this new Miranda felt.
And I love meeting new people, like you.
Miranda had no idea what had changed.
I want pure class.
I'm thinking ash or a charcoal gray matte inside the frame.
An inch on either side?
Even though Samantha had done the photo just for her, she still wanted to be seen a certain way by men.
Charcoal would bring out the gray tones.
The matte should stop about an inch away from my breast.
Right here. See my breast?
And then, stop right around here near my ass.
See that?
Right near my ass.
How's next Thursday?
Whatever.
And you took this one of Cindy Crawford.
See? "Photo by Paul Denai."
How can you still remember? It was the '90s.
It was '92.
I loved her beauty mark so much.
I used to um, pencil one on, you know, and then I'd move it around whenever I had a blemish.
So y'know, it'd be here, and then, it'd be here.
And then, sometimes it'd be here and here.
Oh, here's another one.
Oh, man.
I can't believe you have this book.
It's getting embarrassing.
No, are you crazy? I love this.
You know, when I first moved to New York and I was totally broke, sometimes I would buy Vogue instead of dinner.
I just felt it fed me more.
You know, I used to do all that high fashion sh*t, but the behind the scenes stuff I'm doing now is so much better.
It's more real.
Real? Ick.
No, the reality of people and all their little flaws.
It's the little flaws that make 'em so much more beautiful.
Oh, forget reality and tell me about the models.
Who's a big bitch and who's a bigger bitch?
Sorry, I never click and tell.
Why are you so fascinated with the models?
I just love 'em.
And they're just beautiful.
I wanna show you something.
All right.
You show me... one model who's more alive, or more beautiful than her.
So which one is your new boyfriend?
Oh, it was only one kiss.
It's so predictable.
A model dating a photographer.
Stanny, I'm a model!
Excuse me.
I may have a stroke.
So, do I look all right?
I'm a little nervous about the Charlotte fix-up.
Oh, you look fabulous, you have fabulous seats, everything's gonna be fabulous.
Now, I can't think about you anymore, I'm a model.
-You're a supermodel.
Oh, and I made them put me in these super-high high heels, so I'm gonna be so freakin' tall.
Supermodel and supersize it, please.
Excuse me, hi. I'm Carrie Bradshaw.
Where do I go?
Over with the non-models.
What's her problem?
Oh, Gucci, and Dolce, and Dior.
Oh, my!
Oh look, this is the Polaroid of the dress.
Oh, me likey.
That's a fashion thing.
Oh, here's one of Frank Rich.
And Fran Lebowitz.
These are the other real people?
Okay, what the f*ck's wrong?
Frank Rich, Lynne? Fran Lebowitz?
What, Dolce & Gabbana couldn't get Ed Koch?
Gucci got him. What's the problem?
I'm such an idiot.
I actually convinced myself I belonged here.
You do belong here.
Can I go home?
Ah, no, the entire show is timed per model.
I'm a non-model.
But you're fabulous. Champagne?
Lighten up.
Okay, so you're not Heidi Klum. Huh!
But you're the "modeliest" of the real people.
I mean, he told me I was sexy and then he didn't want to kiss me.
Was it me?
Suddenly I wasn't sexy?
What does it mean?
Who knows? He's a man.
You can lay your p*ssy on a table right in front of one and still not know what he's thinking.
And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse...
There's been a change. You're not wearing this.
You're wearing this.
Okay, I... I'm gonna need to speak to someone.
I had to lose the dress, love.
I saw that Dior is showing something similar right before you.
Uh-huh, uh-huh.
It's a fashion house of cards, love.
I can't wear jeweled underwear.
No, no, no, I just want you to look at them.
Aren't they fantastic?
How can I make this clear?
Me no likey.
Paul, can you do something?
Okay, but not that.
Come on, love. Try them on, you'll love them, love.
No, please, really, I'm gonna faint.
I can't wear jeweled panties and strut out in front of Frank Rich.
I respect Frank Rich. Frank Rich is a writer.
Oh, you're not just wearing panties, love, they come with a fantastic coat.
Trot round there and try them on. Trot on, trot, trot.
It's just... I have a certain look, you know?
And I just really don't think that jeweled panties is it.
Exactly, exactly. If you look like a whale, we won't send you out there.
We're Dolce & Gabbana, for Christ sake.
Now, come out or I'm coming in.
God!
Fantastic.
Now, the hair's all wrong.
We need big hair, big hair.
Char, this is so exciting!
Stanford Blatch, this is Anthony Marantino.
Hi.
Marantino, is that Italian?
Sicilian.
Is that different?
Yeah.
Well, I'd better go check on Carrie.
Ed Harris?
Ed Harris?
Try Ed "I have no hair-is."
I really thought you two would hit it off.
Why, because he's gay and I'm gay?
Well... Char!
Let me clear something up for you.
I'm a nice little package.
I got good arms and a high, tight ass.
I could do a lot better.
Ten minutes and ten hair extensions later...
I can't believe Charlotte would set me up with such a queen.
Is that who she thinks I am?
Someone who would date such a queen?
Stanford, I don't have time to decipher the levels of "queendom" in your world right now.
Would you please go get me another champagne?
Wow, that is big hair.
Thank you.
Orlando, she looks fabulous.
Now, love, we need the big eyes to go with the big hair.
Kevyn Aucoin, Carrie Bradshaw.
Nice to meet you. Ready for makeup?
Okay, sure. Come on.
Hi, I know you're a genius, but here's the thing.
I'm a writer.
I know, I'm a big fan of your column, so don't worry, you're gonna look fabulous.
-Okay. Okay?
Stanford, nobody's listening to me.
They just keep telling me I'm fabulous.
You are fabulous.
Go get Samantha and tell her to come back here.
She'll tell me the truth.
I can't go back out there.
That queen's out there. Go!
We're running out of time.
Come on, let's speed this along!
Crisis.
Carrie needs to see you backstage.
Where's her highness?
What? Your little friend.
Where is he?
Oh, he had to go.
Why? He didn't like me?
No, he had a... a decorating emergency.
I've been rejected by someone I wasn't interested in.
I hate when that happens.
Lynne, we're okay to go.
Lights, go.
Music cue four, go.
Gucci.
Samantha? Well, tell me the truth.
I know people don't mean it when they say that, but I do.
Oh, honey, you're a model.
You'd tell me, right?
Absolutely.
You're a model.
Look how tall I am.
The shoes were my idea.
I gotta get out there. Okay.
Go, model. All right.
Okay.
Wow, you're Heidi Klum.
Mm-hmm.
Wow, those are fantastic.
Really? Oof!
Do I look okay?
You look fabulous.
Thanks. Okay, let's go.
Okay.
Bye. Bye-bye.
Wait 'til you see our gal.
Really? Yeah?
When is she coming out?
She's next. I think she's next!
Dolce & Gabbana.
Carrie, go.
Didn't I tell you?
f*ck me hard!
Heidi, go.
Oh, my God! She's fashion roadkill.
Stop f*ckin' taking my picture.
I had a choice.
I could slink off the runway and let my inner model die of shame.
Or I could pick myself up, flaws and all, and finish.
Woo!
Woo!
And that's just what I did.
Because when real people fall down in life, they get right back up and keep on walking.
Katia, go.
Turns out, my little act of bravery inspired three other people to acts of bravery as well.
Miranda faced her fear of knowing the truth.
Hi. Hi.
I'm really confused.
I thought we had a good time, and then you never called.
And I never called because you never called, and...
I guess that's fine.
But I just have to know... did I do something? Or...
No. Well, yeah... I don't know...
We were sitting on the couch, and... you just seemed a little full of yourself.
Okay, glad we straightened that out.
Cheeseburger and fries.
Samantha faced her fear of what real food would do to her perfect figure.
Thanks.
Nice ass.
I didn't tip you enough.
And Charlotte faced her fear of seeing... herself.
And just like Narcissus before her, Charlotte became so mesmerized by what she saw that...
Ow!
And as for me, I tucked my jeweled underwear and my inner model away where they belonged.
And went back to my life as a real person.