And Just Like That... Sex and the City Ends

In early August, the news broke: And Just Like That..., the continuation of Sex and the City, would end with its third season. For many, it wasn’t a shock – it was a relief. What was supposed to be a revival became a pale, alternate-universe version of the original. A "what if" scenario – or more accurately: "what for?"

A Personal Starting Point: Love at First Film

While many fell in love with Sex and the City through the original series, I came to it differently – through the two movies. I watched five hours of SATC across two consecutive nights, and I’ve adored them ever since. The first movie retained the magic of the series, the second was over-the-top, yet still cult for me.

Years later, I began the series itself and only made it to the end of season two. It wasn’t bad, but it didn’t capture the spirit of the films for me. Now that And Just Like That... is officially ending, I’ve restarted the original – currently rewatching the early part of season four. With more life experience, the show resonates deeper: the money, the apartments, the glamor – all accounted for, but the man, the true partner, remains elusive.

The Original Magic: Four Women, One City, Infinite Truths

The six seasons of Sex and the City were a raw, unapologetic encyclopedia of sexually liberated yet emotionally vulnerable women. Four women in their 30s and 40s trying to navigate the chaos of love, lust, careers, and self-worth. Men came and went, but their friendship was the anchor – the true love story of the series.

And Just Like That... Everything Changed

And Just Like That... veered hard in a new direction. It felt like the writers wanted to erase the past. The characters barely resembled their former selves: Miranda spiraled into an identity crisis, Charlotte became a caricature, and Carrie wandered aimlessly – without her friends or her former spark.

The biggest loss? Samantha Jones. Kim Cattrall, who brought to life the fierce, sex-positive and deeply loyal Samantha, didn’t return due to long-standing tensions with Sarah Jessica Parker. The feud, simmering for years, exploded in 2018 when Cattrall publicly rebuked Parker after a condolence message following her brother’s death. Cattrall refused to participate in the revival – and Samantha was reduced to a few text messages from London. But Samantha wasn’t just a character – she was a force. No message thread can replace her energy.

Death and Scandal: Willie Garson and Chris Noth

As if Samantha’s absence wasn’t enough, Willie Garson – beloved as Stanford Blatch – tragically passed away mid-filming. The writers hastily wrote him off with a plotline that made no sense: Stanford moves to Tokyo and ghosts Carrie. No goodbye. No tribute. It was a betrayal of the character.

And then came the ultimate gut-punch. Mr. Big dies in episode one. Carrie’s soulmate, the iconic John James Preston, dies on a Peloton bike. While he was supposed to appear in flashbacks throughout the season, those scenes were cut after Chris Noth – the actor – was accused of sexual assault by multiple women in December 2021. Noth denied the allegations, but the producers reacted swiftly. Big’s story ended – not just on screen, but in real life.

New Characters – As Forgettable As a Warm Cosmopolitan

The creators tried to fill the void with new faces. They introduced LGBTQ+ representation, non-binary characters, new friends, new love interests – but none carried the weight or depth of the originals. The issue wasn’t diversity – it was lack of substance. The new characters often floated through scenes without emotional gravity.

Samantha’s stand-in, Seema – a stylish real estate broker – was clearly meant to be "cool," but lacked the rawness and heart Samantha had. Lisa, the documentarian, was talented but distant. Nya, the professor, had potential, but little presence. None of them became iconic. Viewers didn’t board a new Manolo express – they stood on the platform, missing the old train.

The Beginning of the End – and a Flicker of Hope

And Just Like That... couldn’t live up to the legacy of Sex and the City. The original was bold, funny, sexy, and painfully honest. The revival often felt unsure, forced, and overcompensating. It didn’t explore where these women were 20 years later – it showed how lost they were trying to meet today’s expectations.

Maybe that’s okay. Maybe it needed to end this way. Now that it’s over, we can finally reflect on what Sex and the City truly gave us: friendship, freedom, vulnerability, and questions. An entire generation grew up on it – and now we know: good things do end. And that’s okay.

Because... And just like that...

...we reclaim our memories.

...we begin again.

...we fall in love with the old all over again.

And that’s no longer the show’s responsibility.

That part belongs to us.