Male Box. Hot Ticket – Sex and The City


Joseph Ungoco for Second City Style Magazine

From the moment I stepped out from my building that morning, there was a charge in the air – I should have known then. My doorman had just offered a cheery “good morning” to the smartly dressed woman ahead of me who was armed with a lipstick red 40 cm Hermes Birkin. From behind, her black linen suit was strikingly well cut, but it was signature red flash of the soles of her shoes that caught my eye. I had to admire her skill as she expertly navigated the crowded Wall Street sidewalks in her Louboutin Architek peeptoes with the 5 inch heel and the hidden platform. That should have tipped me off. Sex and the City was opening in New York City that day.

In the streets on my way to the subway and during my short ride to work, the usually well dressed commuters I see every day seemed particularly well put together that day. All week long, I had heard my fellow editors gossiping about the movie and what they had heard or read on the internet about it. The buzz had been building for a long time. I had received passes to several press screenings (although not the big premiere with SJP) and had passed them along to the more hardcore fans in the office. I opted instead to attend the noontime show on 42nd street with several of my fellow editors and writers, as well as our newly arrived summer interns. They were all abuzz when I got into the office.


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We arrived at the theater almost a full hour early and the crowd outside the theater was as chic as any I’ve ever seen on the steps of Bryant Park during Fashion Week. Small groups of women dressed more for cocktails at a chic downtown watering hole than for a movie matinee – some with their very own Stanford Blatch in tow – waited patiently to get their tickets from will call as the board above flashed “SOLD OUT” for every show until midnight on all five screens that were showing the movie. The parade of Manolo Blahniks, Jimmy Choos, and Christian Louboutins was almost as dizzying as the endless array of must-have-but-can’t-get “it bags”. I recognized a few faces from Fashion Week, but for the most part, these were real (i.e., non-fashion industry) women who were every bit as stylish and sophisticated as the front row editors at the Dior resort show the week before.

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