And just like that, the Sex and The City reboot is dead.
Michael Patrick King, who co-produced And Just Like That, tried to control the message on Instagram last week, claiming he had always “decided to end the popular series this year… SJP [Sarah Jessica Parker] and I held off announcing the news until now because we didn’t want the word ‘final’ to overshadow the fun of watching the season”.
But everyone knows the real story. It’s about dwindling numbers, a lousy show and the reputational death of four iconic characters.
The season one premiere of the Sex and the City spin-off on HBO Max pulled in a meager 1.1 million viewers — and the following seasons were even worse. Season two debuted at 463,000, and this latest effort to open season three attracted just 429,000. Parker, Kristin Davis and Cynthia Nixon all made $10 million per season — a price tag that isn’t justifiable.
Cynthia Nixon — who plays Miranda — and two of her co-stars were paid $10 million per season for And Just Like That
HBO
To compare, in 1998 the first season of Sex and the City brought in 2.8 million viewers, and more than ten million tuned in for the finale.
Here’s why the new version bombed: it turns out America was just not that into a show that turned independent, intellectual Carrie Bradshaw into an insecure, man-panicked teenager. Nor did we want to see successful corporate lawyer Miranda leave her job and husband to follow an odious and boring woman to Los Angeles. And we didn’t care to watch sweet, marriage-minded Charlotte become an annoying helicopter parent, not just to her children but to her dysfunctional husband, too.
Who was this Carrie Bradshaw who suddenly could not say the word “vagina”
HBO
Sex and the City has always been a fantasy — treating New York and its dating scene with rose-tinted glasses. But in 2025, with its three leading ladies pushing 60, it became a farce.
The show was packed with unfathomable storylines, like when Carrie — a writer who focuses on dating and sex — couldn’t bring herself to say the word “vagina” (huh?).
The writers also wanted us to believe that, in 2025, it’s mortifying for women to dine solo. In one episode, when Carrie eats alone at a restaurant, a waitress puts a large plush toy in the shape of a boy across from her, telling her, “You don’t have to eat alone.” Later, Carrie tells her friends it was “lunch with a side of shame”.
In reality, not only would this never happen (outside of a Tokyo eatery that specialises in plushies), it is now considered chic for women to eat alone. And in the age of social media, when diners can close a restaurant with one click, no waitress would ever dream of pulling such a ridiculous move.
Not that the regressive writers of And Just Like That would know anything about that.
Sex and the City was once a show that was so groundbreaking and honest, women identified with the characters to the point they called themselves a “Carrie”, a “Samantha”, a “Miranda” or a “Charlotte”. Their trials and tribulations were relatable and made women feel seen.
Kim Cattrall as Samantha Jones in Sex and the City. She refused to return for the spin-off series except for a seven-figure payday for a walk-on part
ALAMY
But And Just Like That was so out of touch, no one wanted to be any of these idiotic people who continually sabotaged their own lives without any of the fun involved.
No wonder Kim Cattrall, the true star of the show, was the only woman to decline the $10 million salary and refuse to return for the whole show. (Cattrall did make a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it special appearance in season two, only after she insisted on a seven-figure payday and a closed set with no contact from the other three women.)
Parker and King squandered the chance to portray the lives of 50-something women with heart and nuance. If they really wanted to do it right, they should have taken a leaf out of Candace Bushnell’s book, literally. Bushnell, who is 66 and wrote the column and the book that inspired the show, published Is There Still Sex in the City? in 2019 — which is realistic, funny, devastating and fascinating. Unlike And Just Like That, her book details the actual joys and struggles of women dating when they’re older, as well as the suicide of a beloved friend.
It’s a wonder Bushnell wasn’t hired as a writer on this reboot. Perhaps, in the ultimate hubris move, King and Parker decided they were more interesting and original than the original Carrie. A fatal mistake.
Instead, we are left with And Just Like That. And the finale says it all.
At a Thanksgiving dinner party — where none of Carrie’s actual friends are present — a friend of Miranda’s son Brady uses the toilet and, upon exiting, suggests that someone should light a candle (cue bad joke set-up).
Soon after, the camera pans in on the poop with a disgusting close-up that one guesses the show’s creators and writers thought was hilarious. It’s a finale faecal scene that’s a euphemism for the entire show.
Carrie Bradshaw has gone out, not with a bang but a flush. Good riddance.
Paula Froelich is the senior story editor and on-air correspondent for NewsNation. You can follow her trials and travails in New York City on Instagram at @pfro.