Please Stop Calling Me Carrie!
No, it's not a compliment.
- PJ Gach, BettyConfidential.com
Bazillions of years ago, when Sex and The City premiered on HBO, the nation became entranced with a TV show that celebrated good strong friendships between women who loved sex and were sassy dressers. Suddenly women were saying. "I'm Carrie," "I'm Charlotte," "You're really Samantha, aren't you?"
I wasn't one of the gals who had to pigeonhole their friends. Oh, yes, I enjoyed the storylines and could relate to how hard it is to find a guy and a pair of cute shoes, but I really watched it for the hairstyles. When you're born with unruly hair in a straight hair world, and you spot a celeb with hair like yours, you'll watch anything they do to get styling tips.
As the show became more popular, my friends started calling me Carrie. When it first happened, I looked at them blankly and asked why. They said I was a writer (never mind at the time I was writing about rock, not relationships), I had curly hair (OK, that was true), I had a major shoe obsession (I still do), and to put it kindly by some friends, I dressed funny. And I made up strange nicknames about guys I dated. Some people who are very close to me know exactly why one particular guy was dubbed "Mouse Boy." See, they'd say, you're just like Carrie.
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Yeah, but no. For one, I wasn't needlessly cruel to friends. Watch an old episode: When one of Carrie's closest pals is upset, Carrie just has to say something nasty. It happens every time. She's not a friend, she's a frenemy. Oh, and she wants everyone to stop what they're doing so she can complain. Me? You're hurting, I listen. I don't make fun of your despair…well, when you start bitching about it for the 39th time, then I will. I'm loyal, and if you're hysterical at 3 a.m., you know you can call me up. Just give me chocolate later.
I tried to ignore my friends' comparisons by saying thank you and changing the subject. I never thought I'd continue to hear it for almost 10 years--yes, 10 years, people! And the more involved I got in covering fashion and beauty, the more people called me Carrie. At one New York Fashion Week event, a p.r. person introduced me to her colleagues as "the real Carrie."
That was the first time I gritted my teeth and grimaced in public. I became an expert at gritting my teeth (so I wouldn't scream) and faking a smile at the same time. It got worse as certain publishers, editors and celebrities did the same thing. No, I'm not going to say who. Wherever I went, the damn name stuck to me like gum on the bottom of my shoe.
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I know you're probably thinking, "Hey, lighten up, it's a compliment." Um, imagine being compared to your older sister for most of your life. Now imagine being compared to a fictional character (as in not a real person) for most of your adult life. And you don't do anything at all (well, except for the hairstyling tips) to copy her. Wanna scream, doncha?
Then SATC went bye-bye from HBO, and I thought I had a reprieve at last. No, not me. The comparisons went from "Carrie" to "SJP." I heard that my style was exactly like Sarah Jessica's. Okay, I have a lot of vintage clothing, but Sarah Jessica is taller, has breasts and no thighs. Also, she's got a waay better shoe closet.
And then the movie came along. The more I heard that I resembled Carrie, or SJP, or both, the angrier I got. I was just being me, doing the things I do, dressing the way I liked. But instead of getting credit for looking cool, I got compared to someone else and her alter ego. It's gotten to a point that when someone either mentions the "C" or "S" name, I start ranting. I can't help it. No, I won't go postal on anyone. I'll just sit quietly hoping the second movie fails so I never, ever have to hear those awful names again.
PJ Gach is the Senior Editor: Style + Beauty at BettyConfidential.
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