Photo: Craig Blankenhorn/Max
Rabid fashion hounds love to reference a quote by Coco Chanel that might not have ever actually been said: “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off.” I don’t, nor have I ever, subscribe to this philosophy when it comes to getting dressed (stack those rings, baby!) — but I might begin to do so when it comes to And Just Like That … plotlines. Yes, this is a fashion column, but it’s proving difficult to focus on the clothes when the story lines are becoming increasingly cumbersome and convoluted.
What’s that? Carrie’s wearing bedazzled slouchy boots to Coney Island? Sorry, I couldn’t hear them over the sound of Steve impulse-opening an oyster shack on the boardwalk to get over the heartbreak of his sexually confused, soon-to-be ex-wife. Nya’s wearing a highly coveted Loewe knit sweater to get petty reverse-revenge on her good-for-nothing estranged husband? That almost got buried under the weight of Miranda mistakenly giving Che a second chance at existing in her life. Those très adorable Paris-themed pajama pants Carrie paired with heels and a Cosmo in the morning? Yeah, that was overshadowed by the massive thud heard round the world that was Stanford becoming a MONK (?!?!?) and relinquishing all of his worldly position after getting into an argument with a single TikTok client in Japan. I’m having sartorial whiplash. The only characters I can count on to have appropriately sized subplots and adequate outfits to match are the three gallerists who got Charlotte drunk on a weeknight at Chapel Bar (where, by the way, martinis cost $50).
Sometimes I catch myself feeling sorry for being so harsh on AJLT. The show really is trying to do what I assume is its best. The clothes could be worse. Carrie’s plaids could’ve clashed more, and Charlotte’s sleeves could’ve been puffier, and Lisa Todd Wexley’s snowstorm heels could’ve been higher. Perhaps if AJLT existed entirely on its own, without Sex and the City as its predecessor, we’d all be tickled pink by the costuming at hand. But that isn’t the case. AJLT always had big Jimmy Choos to fill, and now, as we have come to feel lukewarm about its revival, the reboot will have to live on both in the shadow of “what could’ve been” and “what could’ve been worn.”
Fine. I will accept the animal print. I give up.
Photo: Craig Blankenhorn/Max
Early on in the season, I abandoned all hope that they’d stop putting Seema in animal print, and thank God I did because the costume department pulled out every bit of leopard-print fabric it had in storage for this episode. One of my colleagues called Seema’s homage to big cats an “assault on the eyes,” and, yes, while it’s an unconventional outfit, I have to admit, I kind of … loved it? It takes a comfortable and confident person to adorn every inch of their body in a print that says “Look at me!” in a concrete jungle, and Seema, paired with that red lip, is the only person who could pull it off. To be fair, though, she could probably make a paper bag look good.
Editors note: We hear you, we see you, we’re listening and learning. For these last couple of recaps, we are giving you as many images as Daddy HBO (Max? Warner Bros.?) will let us have. Keep scrolling for more.
• Sam Smith’s (hello, cameo!) electric-blue set while they drop at least over $100,000 on a piece of art by Alex Israel.
• Carrie’s yellow, floral-sleeve jacket. I wish this coat had gotten more screen time!
• Charlotte’s Mugler-esque skirt-suit situation is “slayinggggg,” as she would say.
Lisette’s long denim shorts! Finally, a true New York Gen-Z/zillennial-cusp thrift-store outfit!
Carrie’s ivory sweater and slip skirt for moving out. If you’d seen what I wore last time I moved you would’ve shed a tear.
Nya’s Loewe knit sweater.
The Parisian pajamas in question.
Miranda’s gradient coat is fun! She’s been very purple this season! Unexpected, but I’ll take it.
Carrie’s signature pink, sequined Fendi purse worn with her gingham multicolored skirt and graphic shirt? That’s a Carrie outfit.
Che “stays wearing Alessandro Michele–ass bomber jackets,” as New York editor Brandon Sanchez puts it. So true, Brandon. So true.
Warner Bros. Craig Blankenhorn/Max
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