Vanity Fair journalist David Friend argues we’re repeating the worst of the 1990s—public shaming, prurient voyeurism and exhibitionism
A decade after ‘Sex and the City,’ she’s back with a dark comedy about middle-aged angst
A more reflective, wry Cattrall emerges in the Toronto-set Sensitive Skin, her first television series in 10 years
Talking points on Girls, Season 2, Episode 2
Scaachi Koul: it’s more depressing to hear this girl complain
A new batch of reality shows is facing up to the fact we live in difficult times
Remakes and sequels don’t always suck
I will use my columnist powers now to enlighten you
The shower scene guy from ‘Sex and the City’ is boosting the ratings on ‘Brothers & Sisters’
When it comes to pop culture and abortion, Bea Arthur’s liberal 1970s character is still the one to watch
…”At first I hated it.And then I liked it. Then I hated it again. Then I got horny. And then I fell asleep. ” (Frank, 30 Rock)
I don’t just mean that they’re both Emmy-winning, critically-acclaimed, somewhat heartless cable shows with attractive casts and great clothes. I mean that Mad Men is on its way to becoming to men what Sex and the City was to women in the late ’90s and early ’00s (also Ally McBeal, for a little while): something that gets dragged into every cultural analysis of what women want, or what men want, or what women want in men or vice-versa and back again. Remember when you kept reading about Sex and the City and the question of what it meant for feminism? Well, the same thing is happening with Mad Men; it’s a convenient symbol of cultural longing for a time when men were men: