Sex and the City

“Clothing,” Camilla said. “I already have too many Chanel bags. They bore me.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Shiloh spoke up.

“I hardly ever go out anymore. I can’t take it. I’ve become very spiritual.” A thin piece of rawhide hung from her neck, twisted around a small crystal. What had finally done her in was an encounter with a famous movie actor in his early thirties who had seen her photo in a magazine and tracked down her agency. They passed on his number, and because she had just seen him in a movie and thought he was cute, she called him. He invited her to spend two weeks with him at his house in Los Angeles. Then he came to New York, and he started to get weird. He refused to go out, except to strip clubs, where he tried to get girls to do special things to him for free, “because he was famous,” Shiloh said.

Kitty put her elbows on the table. “A couple of years ago, I said, ‘I’ve been screwed over too many times.’ So I decided to take a guy’s virginity and then leave him. I was bad, but on the other hand, he was twenty-one, which is probably too old to be a virgin, so he deserved it. I was as sweet as could be, and then I never talked to him again. It doesn’t matter how pretty you are. If you can create who the guy wants you to be, you can get him.”

“If a guy says to me, ‘I like fishnets and red lipstick,’ I see it as accessorizing,” said Teesie.

“If Hubert was a girl, he’d be the trashiest girl you’ve ever seen,” said Kitty. “I said, ‘Yes, I’ll wear short skirts, but I’m going to wear underwear underneath.’ One time, I had to totally get him back. He kept harassing me and harassing me to sleep with him and another woman. Finally, I have this friend who’s gay? George? And we kiss sometimes, but it’s like kids? So I said, ‘Honey, George is coming over and he’s going to spend the night.’ Hubert was like, ‘Where is he going to sleep?’ I said, ‘Oh, I thought he’d sleep in the bed with us. And you’re going to play receiver.’ He totally freaked out. I said, ‘Honey, if you really love me, you’ll do this for me because it’s what I want.’ Well,” she said, ordering another margarita. “It had to be done. Now we’re on a level that’s equal.”

“HELLO, KITTY”

“Older guys are gross,” said Camilla. “I won’t go out with them anymore. A couple of years ago, I realized, why do I need to go out with these ugly, rich old men, when I can go out with gorgeous, rich young guys? Plus, these old guys don’t really understand you. No matter how much they think they do. They’re another generation.”

“I don’t think older guys are so bad,” Kitty said. “Of course, when Hubert first called me up and said he wanted to go out with me, I was like, ‘How old are you and how much hair do you have left on your head?’ He really had to woo me. The first time he came to pick me up, I walked out with dirty hair and no makeup. It was like, If you want me so much, get a look at the real me. And after that, the first time I spent the night with him, the next morning I woke up, and he had a bouquet of my favorite flowers in every room. He found out who my favorite author was, and he bought all the books. On the mirror, he wrote in shaving cream, ‘Hello, Kitty.’”

The women squealed. “That is so adorable,” Teesie said. “I love men.”

“I love men too, but sometimes I need a break from them,” Shiloh said.

“Hubert loves it when I mess up,” said Kitty. “He loves it when I buy too many clothes, and I can’t pay the bill. He loves to step in and take care of everything.

“Men are needy, and we’re the goddesses that give to them,” Kitty said triumphantly. She was well into her second margarita. “On the other hand, men are . . . bigger. Larger. They’re comfort.”

“They give you something that women can’t,” Shiloh said, nodding. “A man should provide for his girlfriend.”

“Hubert makes me feel really safe. He’s allowing me to have the childhood I never had,” said Kitty. “I don’t buy this whole feminist idea. Men have a need to be dominant—let them. Embrace your femininity.”

“I think men can be complicated, but I always know there’s another one out there if this one doesn’t work out,” said Teesie. “Men are not high maintenance.”

“It’s other women who are really the problem,” said Camilla.

“At the risk of sounding obnoxio

us, being beautiful is such a power, you can get whatever you want,” said Kitty. “And other women know that and don’t like you, especially older women. They think you’re invading their territory.”

“For a lot of women, when they reach thirty, they start to realize their age,” said Camilla. “Men have given women this stigma. Obviously, a woman who looks like Christie Brinkley is not going to have a problem.”

“But they get mean,” said Kitty. “They make comments. Women just assume that I’m an idiot. That I don’t know anything. That I’m stupid. That I’m with Hubert for his money. You get spiteful and wear an even shorter skirt and more makeup.”

“Nobody bothers to ask. They just assume,” said Teesie.

“Women are so envious in general,” said Shiloh. “It doesn’t have anything to do with their age. It’s disgusting. They see an attractive girl, and they give attitude. It’s so sad and shocking. It’s so telling of where women are in their lives. They’re so insecure and unhappy about where they are, they can’t stand it if it seems like another woman has it better.”

“That’s why most of my friends are men.” The three other women looked around the table and nodded.

What about sex? someone asked.

“I tell every guy they have the biggest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Kitty. The women laughed nervously. Kitty slurped up the last bit of her margarita through a straw. “It’s survival,” she said.

14

Portrait of a Bulgy Underwear Model: The Bone Pops Out of His Giant Billboard

A door opens at the top of the stairs and the Bone, an underwear model and budding actor, stands silhouetted in the doorway of his apartment. One arm is up and he’s leaning against the doorframe and his dark brown hair is falling in his face and he’s laughing as he watches you trudge breathless up the stairs.

“You’re always on the go,” he says, like all he wants to do is lie around in bed all day. You remember what his friend, screenwriter Stanford Blatch, keeps telling you: “The Bone looks like he travels with his own lighting director.” And then it’s too much: You have to look away.