Every girl has a defining, distinct moment that she remembers where she believes that she emotionally (not physically, there’s actually a difference) (at least in my book) transforms into a woman. Some may replay the memory of their first kiss playing spin-the-bottle and consider that their coming-of-age tale. It may be the purchase your first Coach purse with those backwards and side-to-side, outlined in glitter C’s. On a more graphic note, I was blessed with this moment sitting in front of the TV at age seven or whatever, exposed to a censored ad for HBO’s “Sex and the City.”
I knew my parents were avid fans of “The Sopranos,” but they assumed they could hide it from me. From then on, I was aware that any content on HBO would be risqué, but ads for “Sex and the City” did pop up on other cable outlets and I couldn’t avoid them. But from what I saw, it was just a group of girls hanging out and gossiping, which, even at age seven, my friends and I were guilty of.
So it was relatable. But it wasn’t until I entered my last year of middle school that the movie was released, and a year after that, it was running on HBO. By then, I was 15 and I finally got to meet Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and the infamous Samantha Jones.
At that age, my career interests were seeping into public relations and, to quote myself, “wanting to make people famous.” I related to Samantha because she was a PR executive with her own firm. I quickly caught on that her boyfriend/eventual ex-boyfriend was not just an actor, but also her client, who she helped to quickly rise to fame.
While I can’t say that I’m on the same page as all of Samantha’s lifestyle pursuits, I do value her as a career inspiration. After watching the first SATC movie and then catching up on the series via E! re-runs, I admired her non-stop life in PR and her constantly evolving circle of colleagues and friends. Just as a high school student, I envisioned myself like her, working in a floor-to-ceiling glass window office by day, speaking boldly and confidently branding herself, and running around from event to event, including those that she most likely threw together without breaking a sweat, with her clique by night. As fictitious as her character is, her career is achievable for hungry girls like myself. What she does when the work is done, however, isn’t something she has to share.