Every week a new story seems to come over the ticker about how groundbreakingly post-post-feminist "Sex & the City was and how influential it was on culture at large. And every week the 'New York Observer' prints one of the original Candace Bushnell columns on which the show was based to remind us that this is why people now watch 'The Hills."'
Land Rover, Mercedes, Maserati and the bar Pravda are name-checked, but column is light on product placement as a considerable effort is made to sentimentalize the inner monologue of the Samantha-esque Janey Wilcox, which is most simply conveyed as: "I guess I will sleep with that guy if he is paying for a house in the Hamptons. Wait, why doesn't Hamptons guy want to fuck anymore? I guess I will make out with this guy if he is buying dinner. Wait, why doesn't dinner guy want to fuck anymore?"
There's a subplot involving the first Hamptons guy's large dick, which is the reason she can feel non-whorey fucking him even though he's eighty years old and spends an hour on the toilet every day, but when he breaks up with her and gives her a $5,000 Chanel gift certificate she still doesn't feel whorey, presumably because she is a "feminist", even though she has no job, and the Republican in me would think her idea that she should be able to sit around drinking bellinis and collecting womyn reparations for those thousands of years of suffering is a little outrageous, but there is no Republican in me and instead I just feel kind of sad and alone. Janey does not seem to grasp the depths of her shallowness, probably because the point of shallowness is that it has no depth and she is really, really shallow, even as there are certain actions that indicate she has a conscience. Janey was probably abused as a child but she has repressed all the memories just as we should all repress the memories of this show because it is seriously, seriously, was a bad idea to begin watching.