I’M not quite sure what the title of this episode means, but it’s a neat single-narrative affair in which a male friend of Miranda’s has a thunderbolt, love-at-first-sight moment after being introduced to her interior designer.
As emphasised previously, I’m no wedding expert, but I do know this: you should not wear a nude dress split to the crotch to anyone’s wedding. Not even if you’re reading a poem.
Miranda’s chums become engaged within a week, much to her disgust and seething envy, and the wedding serves to emphasise Miranda’s feelings of invisibility as well as the rubbishness of Carrie and Big’s relationship (he demands a +1 invite after being amused to learn she’ll be reading some self-penned words about love, only to piss off mid-stanza).
Bridesmaid Charlotte hopes lightning will strike twice after being paired with a handsome best man, but there’s a cruel twist in the tail, as there so often is for poor Charlotte. This time the problem is the wandering hands of her beau’s father. Her continued optimism in the face of constant defeat really is quite inspiring sometimes.
Carrie’s column: In a city as cynical as New York, is it still possible to believe in love at first sight?
Fashion: Miranda might have had a chance to hook up with her pal, pre-thunderbolt, if only she hadn’t opted to team a grey silk blouse with weirdly billowing powder blue pantaloons when seeing him for the first time in ages. The women mostly look terrible at the impromptu engagement party, in a host of unflattering cuts and in Samantha’s case a bonkers jacket covered in fluffy tassels. In culinary fashion faux pas, I’m sure I spotted Carr’s water biscuits being served out of the packet.
Puns: None, just poetry.