Sex and the City (1998–2004): Season 3, Episode 14 - Sex and Another City - full transcript

In L.A., Carrie feels naked after a reputed wax beautician, the famous but unintelligible Alicia, gave her an extreme Brazilian. Miranda meets with her former nerdy and jaded New Yorker ...

LA - land of perpetual sun and sun bathing,
which also makes it

land of the perpetual bikini wax.

After a week, I made an appointment
with the city's premier waxer to the stars -


She was known for her artful work,
her lightning-quick hands...

...and her indecipherable accent.

Excuse me?

All done. Beautiful. You look.

She took everything I've got.

It's called "The Brazilian Wax."

Why didn't you tell her to stop.

I feel like one of those hairless dogs.

It's an aesthetic thing. They all do it here.

LA men are too lazy to search for anything.

You can't hide your light under a bush.

Didn't she leave a triangle, a landing strip?

No, I am totally bald and freezing.

- I would have killed her.
- I'm so aware of down there now.

I feel like I'm nothing but walking sex.

The Brazilian makes you do crazy things.

Be careful who you invite to Brazil.

- I'm officially RSVP'ing: no.
- Where are you going?

- I'm meeting Lew.
- Letterman Lew?

He doesn't work for him any more.
He's writing that New York sitcom.

The one about the kids who live in a loft.

- Yeah, one's a feisty waitress.
- What are you and Lew gonna do?

We'll have drinks and bitch about LA.
I can't believe he lives here now.

- You should tell him to move to Brazil.
- You're on your own tonight.

- We'll go to that movie premier.
- What's the movie?

No one sees it. We'll use my press pass,
and get into the after party.

- I love LA.
- You two should get out of the sun.

Lew asked Miranda
to meet him at The Flowing Tree.

Surrounded by all these tanned,
fit, happy people,

she knew she would recognise pale,
chubby, unhappy Lew immediately.


Oh, my God!

- Do I look that different?
- It's a good thing you still wear that hat.

- If you ever see me in a Lakers hat...
- ...shoot you.

- Exactly. Do you want to sit?
- You look amazing.

- Thanks. Wanna grab a drink?
- Please.

Yes, let's go. The sight
of all these bleached teeth is blinding.

No, here. This place is known
for its green tea infusions.

Please - infusions?
Could LA be any worse?

Take off that hat,
I'm gonna shoot you right now.

I really like it here.

What happened to the guy I used to share
beers with and make fun of happy people?

I know. The thing is, I think I'm one
of those happy people now.

- Good for you!
- I know it sounds crazy.

I was supremely unhappy in New York.

I came here, and I let
a lot of that old toxic anger go.

I take things slowly, get outside...
LA agrees with me.

Miranda realised,
she was the one standing out.

She was the only angry
New Yorker for miles.

Let's go for a hike.

Later that night,
two very happy New Yorkers prepared

to hike up their first LA red carpet.

- Carrie Bradshaw of the New York Star.
- Are you on the list?

- I'm a columnist. That's me.
- Press room is to the left.

Crinkle-cut cheese and fat reporters,
I don't think so.

- Let me see your passes from the movie.
- No one goes to the movie.

Everyone goes to the movie.
Could you step off the red carpet?

- Do you know who she is?
- She's not on the list.

OK, OK. Let's just go.

This wouldn't happen in New York.
People know you in New York.

- No one goes to the movie.
- We're out of here.

I'm getting the car.

There I was, a Hollywood nobody,

cast off the red carpet and standing
in my proper place on a parking lot.

I'm talking in circles here. That's right.

I understand.
I heard you. OK, sure.

Tell her that when she's ready to deal,
she can call me herself.

- Please tell me you have another one.
- I thought I had a problem.

Got a light for me?

Whole tars, very nice.
I thought they'd banned these here.

I taped them to my body on the plane.

- New Yorker?
- Yeah.

- Keith Travers, representing Matt Damon.
- Carrie Bradshaw, representing myself.

- Actress?
- No, no. Writer.

Too pretty to be a writer.

That's too cheesy for you to be a writer.

- It will take an hour to get the car.
- Samantha Jones, meet Keith Travers.

He's representing Matt Damon.

- You aren't going anywhere.
- If you say so.

We go inside, just enjoy our evening.

Once we got inside,
our magic carpet ride really began.

I can't believe they wouldn't let you in.
That's a disconnect.

- A disconnect?
- Yeah. It's like a fuck-up.

A disconnect!

Yeah. You writers are word Nazis.
You're gonna ride me with that.

Someone's ass is ringing,
and it ain't mine.

Yours would if it could.
It would ring.

Excuse me, I'll just be one second.
Enjoy yourself.

That is one tall drink of water.

Samantha had worshipped Hugh Hefner
since she was old enough

to steal her father's Playboys.
To her, this wasn't a celebrity sighting.

This was the celebrity sighting.

I'll be back.

Hugh, hi. I'm Samantha Jones.

- Hello.
- I'm a huge fan.

- In that case, join us for a drink.
- A drink?

- That would be great.
- Thank you.


Drinking with three blondes -
I guess that's a regular day for you.

A slow one, yes.

I'm pretty crazed this week,
but I have a lunch opening on Wednesday.

Can I take you out?
Linc, great table.

I had been trying
to get into Linc for a week.

He seemed smart and sexy, and this
outsider liked the view from the inside.

- Yeah, OK. Sure.
- Great.

Hey, Keith.
There's a VIP room.

- Do you want to go there?
- Yeah, I want to go to the VIP room.

- Let's go.
- All right.

Back home,
Charlotte had never felt more inside.

She had just attended
her first black tie doctors' benefit.

- Damn, we make a fine looking couple.
- Yes, we do.

So, how did I do?

Mrs MacDougal, you did quite well.

Thank you, Dr MacDougal.

You know, doctor, I have an itch.
I was hoping you could help me out with it.


Maybe it's time we thought
about some options, like Viagra.

Are you aware that Viagra
is a killer for men with heart problems?

My father died of a heart attack.
It runs in my family.

Trey wasn't the only one
with heart problems.

I'm just trying to help.

Now I'm tense.
I'm going for a run.

It was the fifth time Trey had gone running
at bedtime in the last two weeks.

The next day, Samantha decided
to get some exercise as well.

Her pocketbook was getting
most of the workout.

Fendi, 150.

She decided
to give her old pocketbook a rest.

As Charlotte picked up my mail,
she realised,

she missed a lot more than her sex life.
She missed her single life.

If Trey could run away from their problems,
so could she.

- I can't deal with Trey.
- Calling me might be more economical.

And I really missed you guys.

We missed you too.

- Trey is...
- It's not working.

He refuses to even talk about it.

- I take it from the bag you'll be staying?
- I need a vacation.

You came to the right place.
I gotta meet this Keith guy.

Miranda and Samantha
are down by the pool.

Charlotte glanced at the glistening pool,

and just like that,
her marriage and Trey seemed far away.

Before lunch, I agreed to go with Keith
to see a house he was interested in.

This is not a house. This is an airport.

It's Lorenzo Lamas'.
He's asking 3.4, but it'll go for 3.2.

There's a bargain!

In New York,
a first date is dinner and a movie.

In LA, it's lunch
and seeing a 3.4 million dollar house.

What do you think?

- I should work in syndicated television.
- It's good, right?

It's really good.

But does a single guy like you
need this much space?

Probably not.
But come on, it looks good.

So did he.

And in the South American's living room,
my Brazilian made me kiss him.

Wait till you see the hot tub.

- We should check out the hot tub.
- Okey-dokey.

I'll have the omelette with no cheese,
but tomatoes and mushrooms.

Instead of the fries a side of fruit
with no grapes, and a half decaf skim.

You should get the mushrooms steamed.

It lightens the calories
but retains the flavour.

Great, thanks.

- I really like LA.
- Who wouldn't?

Keith wants a $3.4 m house,
and I can't afford new curtains.

That's where the guys here have
New York men beat - real estate.

- Lew may be the perfect guy.
- Letterman Lew?

Yeah. He's an ideal combination
of the two coasts.

He's still a New Yorker at heart, but he's
lost all his neuroses and 30 pounds.

We're New Yorkers.
Aren't we supposed to like neurotic guys?

The Woody Allen thing is so over.

He's a changed man.
He's spiritual and happy.

- He met the Dalai Lama.
- I met Hugh Hefner.

One woman's pornographer
is another woman's spiritual leader.

Maybe he's on to something.
Maybe it's time I stopped being so angry.

- What would you do with your free time?
- I'll tell you what you could do.

- Shop.
- Jesus!

- No, you didn't!
- That's like $3,000.

Or 150. Fake.

- No.
- It looks so real.

- I know.
- Give me that.

You'd never know it wasn't real
unless you looked at the lining.

I don't have that luxury.
All my insides are on the outside now.

- I don't like fakes.
- All that matters is what it looks like.

It's good.

We could get more. I've got the guy's card.
He lives in the "Valley".

- Could you have more condoms?
- I did.

I am so happy
to be out of that condom stage of life.

I thought it was called "my thirties".

It's nice to go to bed
with the same man every night.

Please tell me you didn't come to LA
to tell us how much sex you're having now.

Charlotte didn't tell them
her conjugal bliss was a conjugal miss.

What should I do first in LA?

The first thing you'll need is
a good bikini wax.

You should try Alicia.

That night, after hours of stress-free
pool time, I realised something startling.

I was actually starting to like LA.

New Yorkers are trained
to hate Los Angeles,

where, supposedly,
intellect is ridiculed

and who you date
and what you look like is revered.

Yet, we were having the time of our lives.

The men were happy, the homes
were huge, the bags looked great.

Maybe that was enough.
The weather moves from west to east.

Was it a just matter of time
before the truth blew across Manhattan?

When it comes to bags, men and cities,
is it really what's outside that counts?

The next day, Samantha and I
went to the Valley for Fendi bags.

This is it, 45386.

- Is that an address or a zip code?
- I don't know.

I miss Lorenzo Lamas' neighbourhood.

- My God.
- Oh, there he is.

We had found it. Fake Fendi paradise.

He should work on his display area.

Seven for 1,000. You like?

I should have liked them. But staring into
that trunk, they no longer looked elegant,

they looked cheap.
Even if everyone else thought it was real,

I'd always know, my bag came
from a trunk deep in the Valley.

You know what? I don't think so.

- You don't want a bag now?
- I'm sorry. They're very nice. It's just...

Please, don't smoke near the bags.

We drove for two hours in the Valley...

That's it. I'm going back to the hotel.

They looked so sad
staring up at me from that trunk.

They were waiting to be adopted.

I was almost eaten by dogs. The least
you could've done was buy a bag.

It's better to wait for the real thing.
Then at least you know it's special.

- My marriage is a fake Fendi.
- Excuse me?

Trey and I look like
the perfect couple from the outside,

but on the inside it's all fake.
It's not special.

- He can't get it up.
- What?

- We've never had sex.
- You've never had sex?

- You've been married for...
- ...over a month.

- You've never had sex?
- It's not physical, it's emotional.

- You know about this?
- She told me at the wedding.

I was afraid you'd say you'd told me so
and I shouldn't have married so quickly.

Who am I to judge you?
We all have our own paths in life.

Three days with Lew
had changed Miranda

from deeply sarcastic to Deepak Chopra.

- What am I gonna do?
- You've never had sex?

- She's never had sex.
- It's only been a month.

- He hasn't seen Brazil.
- A second honeymoon to South America.

- That might do the trick.
- I know how to cheer you up.

A trip to the Playboy mansion.

Hef invited us for one of those
Playmate pool parties.

Did you say, "Hef"?

Why would that cheer her up?
Does she look like a frat boy?

No, but it wouldn't hurt to meet some.

- Sorry, not going.
- Come on, it would be fun.

We're in LA.

All right, fine,
but I better be on the guest list.

Later that night,
I was a guest at Keith's amazing house.

He made sizzling scallops,
and after dinner things got even hotter.

I like hot tubs. New York should have
more hot tubs like on roofs and stuff.

Well, if you like that...

While I was going native with Keith,
Miranda and Lew went back to New York.

At least to the New York strip steak.

- This looks great.
- God, do I miss this smell!

So, you were saying?

Read "Zen And The Art Of Modern Living".

I'm still trying to get used to bath beans.

- You are so New York.
- Come on, don't you miss it?

- Just a little?
- No, I write about it every day.

That's not New York, it's a sound stage.

20-somethings with tiny salaries don't live
in huge SoHo lofts. It's totally fake.

40 million viewers
would disagree with you on that one.

- Is something wrong with your steak?
- No, it's great.

- What are you doing?
- I'm tasting my food.

- Why aren't you swallowing your food?
- Do you think I look this good by eating?

Lew hadn't found inner peace,
he'd found an eating disorder.

- Are you serious?
- Don't put your toxic shit on me.

This is LA. You have no idea
what pressure I'm under.

Who cares what you look like.
You're a writer.

For a hit show.
No one wants to hire a fat story editor.

Miranda wanted
to rip that Knicks hat off his head.

No self-respecting New Yorker
would spit out that good a steak.

Jesus fucking Christ.
Now I've lost my appetite.

Waking up in Keith's sun filled bedroom,
I felt like 3.4 million myself.

I like what you have going on down there.

- That would be a whole lot of nothing.
- Yeah.

- Don't you work?
- I don't have anything till eleven.

- Nice life.
- Yeah.

What the fuck do you think you're doing?

I told you, no prostitutes
when you're house-sitting.

- You're a house-sitter?
- Personal assistant.

- I thought you were an agent.
- I wish my agent would water my plants.

The life I was coveting wasn't Keith's,
it was Carrie Fisher's.

- You're so fired. Wait till I tell Penny.
- Am I going to have to return her car?

And Penny Marshall's.

I'm going to...

- You might need these.
- Thank you.

Are you going to bring prostitutes
to Ben's new three million dollar home?

And Ben Affleck's.

I'm not a prostitute.
I'm Carrie Bradshaw.

I'm a writer too.
I have a column in New York.

I'm Carrie, you're Carrie.
I write, you write.

I have a child. I really can't do this.

Have you been smoking in here?

This was always on.

The dry cleaning and the cat food,
that's all done.

It was the perfect ending
to my week of make-believe -

a visit to the Playboy mansion
and the Playmate pool party.

- Could our lives get any weirder?
- Nothing surprises me any more.

In LA, house-sitters are somebodies
and writers are prostitutes.

- You're at least a high class escort.
- Thank you.

- Carrie Fisher!
- Now we're angry again?

- Yeah.
- I blame the wax.

That's it. Blame it on Rio.

After the sun went down,
the party really started heating up.

Where are the girls
in the satin outfits and the Bunny ears?

Yeah, I want to see some Bunny ears.

Somewhere between
the ltalian grotto and the petting zoo,

Charlotte found something real.
His name was lan.

- That's when I started collecting Hockney.
- I love Hockney.

The colours in his pool series are so LA.

The blues and those deep greens.

God, it is such a pleasure
talking to an intelligent woman for once.

I love talking to you too.

It's so nice to be with a man who talks.
I love LA.

I guess that third welcome drink
has finally kicked in?

This is bad of me.
Is this bad of me? I'm drunk.

I'm lying here with a man I hardly know.

It's the Playboy mansion.
Things could be worse.

- You're nice, lan. You're really nice.
- You're nice too.

- Let me buy you some boobs.
- Pardon me?

- It's a gift.
- I don't need any breasts.

Charlotte had forgotten
how awful single life could be.

Suddenly, marriage with all its problems
wasn't looking so bad.

- Someone stole my fake Fendi.
- Are you sure?

I put it beside me.
When I got up, it was gone.

Oh my God, that Bunny's got my bag.

Give me my bag.

- You stole my bag.
- This is my bag.

- Are we having a problem?
- Yes. This Bunny stole my bag.

- It's my bag.
- She says it's her bag.

Look on the inside.
There's a label that says "made in China"

and there's a bunch
of condoms in there.


Samantha was mortified. She assumed
everything on the Bunny was fake.

OK then. Innocent mistake.

Apparently, one nod from Hef,
and the pool party was over.

- I'm not leaving without my friends.
- I'm so sorry.

The fake Fendi ended up
costing 150 for the bag,

2,000 in stolen credit card charges,
and unspecified costs to Samantha's ego.

Across the compound, Miranda and I
took a wrong turn on the way to the buffet.

Look at that - tit soup.

It's time to go home.

There you are.

- We have to leave.
- We are.

Right now.

Relax. We're going, we're going.

- What did she do?
- I don't know.

What happened?
OK. All right.

The next day,
four New Yorkers left LA a little lighter.

Some of us had lost our hair,
and all of us had lost a little dignity.

Samantha couldn't wait to get back
to the crime free streets of Manhattan.

Miranda couldn't wait
to get back to men who swallowed.

Charlotte couldn't wait to get back to Trey.

And as for me, I couldn't wait.

- You can't smoke in here.
- Relax, we're going.

Six hours later, I was home.

It looked even better on the inside
than I remembered it,

because inside it was all real.

I was starting to feel like myself again.

The rest of me
would grow back eventually.