My hand reaches into the fruit bowl. Two fruit flies stir, floating away away like the soot sprites from Spirited Away.
Juicy brats with grill marks and sesame seeded buns, air dried wavy hair, neighbors leaving giant garden zucchinis on the curb to share, corn cob bits stuck between your teeth, the pinkish gold horizon line glow at 8:30pm, painting your toenails a “summer color,” ketchup stains on your tomate colorway Gil Rodriguez top, people-watching from under the brim of your secret agent straw hat, excessive blush but not a lick of eye makeup, morning stretches with armpit hairs flowing freely in the crisp breeze.
This is the beauty of California summer, and I’m really trying not to take it for granted.
My style is just better in the summer.
The sun just does something for me. I soak up inspiration from heat and hot places…summer is when I go through big style "growth spurts.” Last year, I was heavily influenced by the energy of the southwest—New Mexico, specifically. Because of my time there, I now think of ornamentation and adornment in a different way. I loved wearing breezy slip dresses last summer and that remains true this summer.
What’s on my mind this summer? Honestly, it’s Carrie Bradshaw.
I’ve been thinking about her a lot…her enormous presence in y2k style and fashion as a whole…and what it means to engage with Carrie Bradshaw inspo as a nonwhite woman.
Carrie has always been a popular source of fashion inspiration for women, but this is especially true for summer 2024. SATC landed on Netflix in April so we’ve had 3 months as a culture to marinate our eyeballs in tube tops, fluttery dresses and kitten heels…so yeah, Carrie’s influence is in full swing.
There has been a noticeable uptick in Depop descriptions that leverage Carrie/SATC as SEO keywords. Some Gen Z viewers are discovering the show for the first time, whereas older millennials are viewing it from a nostalgic lens. While she isn’t my one of my personal style icons, I do appreciate bits and pieces of her y2k style!
I’ve been seeing several examples of social media emulating the “Carrie Bradshaw aesthetic” and want to tease apart what I think are two very separate conversations: dressing like Carrie vs. looking like Carrie. And when they get conflated, it can be really confusing—or at worst, perpetuate the glorification of whiteness as the aesthetic ideal.
When a trend or aesthetic is hinged around a specific character played by a real person (SJP in this case), the physical characteristics of that person are infused into their overall “style.” There’s a lot of Carrie cosplay on social media right now. When a tall, thin white woman with curly blonde hair dresses in a tube top, skirt and kitten heels, comments applaud the successful accuracy of her Carrie-fishing. This response stems from her physical resemblance to Carrie—not necessarily the outfit that is playing into the aesthetic.
But most of us do not look like SJP.
What’s missing from the Carrie style inspo and SATC meme-sharing is a conversation about the race and body politics at play:
I have worn outfits that could fall under the category of dressing like Carrie (midriff showing, patterned skirt) but I’m not really trying to look like Carrie—nor would most people associate my outfit with her. I am not trying to dissuade anyone from loving Carrie’s style, by the way. Go for it! But I think we ought to recognize that SJP and her whiteness are an inherent part of being “Carrie-coded”—and why she is the poster child for that particular y2k style.
That said, when I look at some of my recent favorite outfits (shown in collage at the top), a lot of them do draw inspiration from Carrie.
Personally, I think the ONE common denominator among all good Carrie outfits is