“Alone, who am I?” Carrie ponders. “Without Carrie, who are we?” I ponder.
Caution: This article contains spoilers for season 3, episode 12 of And Just Like That…
Joan Didion once said in 1967, “It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends.” In New York City, where literary figures loom large, Carrie Bradshaw takes the crown as perhaps the most iconic, a once demure columnist on sex and relationships who evolved into a flawless historical fiction writer. In what seems to be the last chapter of the expansive Sex and the City narrative—a narrative we’ve trekked through since 1998—Carrie faces a future that might just be solitary. With Big gone, Aidan back in Virginia, and a fizzled fling with Duncan who returned to the UK, she’s at a crossroads.
Yet, there’s much to be grateful for in the episode titled “Party of One,” particularly the build-up to Miranda’s Thanksgiving gathering. Suddenly, it seems as though the writers have lifted a fog that lasted three seasons, delivering an episode that truly shines. It was witty, poignant, and well-paced, with characters who felt genuine—a rarity in this series.
As the episode begins, Carrie ventures into a Korean BBQ on her own. To ease the perceived sadness of dining solo, the hostess places a large plushy toy across from her. As robot waiters glide by, Carrie, stunned, later jokes to her friends at a bridal show in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, “So being alone was tragic in the past, and it’s still seen as tragic in the future.” It’s an ideal setting for the group to evaluate the state of marriage, both their own and the institution itself.
Lisa Todd Wexley finally confronts brewing tensions with Hot Editor Marion, while navigating her husband Herbert’s depression post-election. Charlotte, whose spouse survived cancer, now faces new challenges in their intimate life. Yet, both would choose marriage again, despite its realities.
PICTURE
Carrie and Seema delve into deeper existential matters. Seema, having discovered that Hot Gardener Adam rejects marriage, questions her own attachment to the idea. Carrie, asked why she married, admits, “It meant I was chosen.” Miranda, previously chosen herself, now chooses a different path and meets Steve to discuss their upcoming role as grandparents. “Our grandkid will definitely know us,” Steve reassures, his characteristic warmth evident.
Yet, Carrie is left pondering Seema’s question and her own solitary dining experience. She later asks Charlotte, “Who am I alone?” This follows Charlotte’s enthusiastic invitation to show off her new hallway, a moment of lightness. Carrie, though often seen solo, never envisioned it as a permanent state. Yet the reality that there might not be another man on the horizon weighs on her.
Despite these fears, Carrie immerses herself in Thanksgiving preparations, delivering pies to friends like a fashionable Santa Claus. Without a romantic partner, she remains a vibrant figure in the city. At Miranda’s, she discovers a reduced guest list: Seema with Adam’s family, Charlotte and Harry opting for a quieter celebration, and Steve stepping back to minimize tension with Brady. Unexpected guests include Brady’s partner, Mia, her eclectic friends, and a rather dull colleague of Charlotte’s.
We don’t witness the likely chaotic dinner, but the aftermath involves Carrie lamenting Charlotte’s matchmaking attempt and Miranda tackling a plumbing disaster. Joy arrives just in time for dessert after a pet emergency. Carrie, feeling like a third wheel, returns home, disarms her security, and faces the karaoke machine gifted by Miranda. Finally, she plays a song that triggers a montage of our beloved, eccentric characters—Anthony and Giuseppe in a playful tiff, the Goldblatts reviewing photos, Seema with her non-committal beau, Herbert brightening up, and Miranda enjoying dessert with Joy. Carrie, alone but empowered, types a hopeful revision to her novel’s epilogue: “The woman realized she was not alone; she was on her own.” A fitting edit.
While Carrie’s journey with us might be ending, her story continues. Despite the show’s flaws—never forget Lisa’s father’s storyline—it remains a delightful peek into the lives of our most eccentric friends. As Joan Didion aptly noted, endings are tough to discern, but this final episode of And Just Like That… concluded with something both fun and comforting: the original Sex and the City theme song.
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Avery Sandridge has an unmatched love for storytelling and the screen. From detailed analyses of your favorite shows to behind-the-scenes scoops, Avery offers a fresh and engaging take on everything TV series.