It was Girls’ Night Out in Miami. Six of us were driving through pelting rain and bolts of lightning to view the sequel to Sex and the City. It seemed like a great idea at the time. We had even thought of renting a limo just for the novelty, but with the recession as a fact of life, we reconsidered. Yes, we knew we were on our way to play our grownup version of Barbie Dolls as Georgina Young-Ellis so perfectly phrased it. We all know that Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda don't look or dress or live like regular people but we didn't care. Girls just want to have fun.

 

At the theater we settled in the front row center feeling slightly damp from the drenching buckets of Florida’s liquid sunshine. As I watched my friend Tina pat down her hair – it gets very curly in the rain – I wondered how my London pal, author Jackie Buxton, was doing on the British side of the Atlantic with her Girls Night Out adventure to see the same film on the same night. Jackie lives in London and is the author of Glass Houses. Tina’s a US writer and national publicity guru. While they both share rain- induced super curls, Jackie’s also a look-alike for Sarah Jessica Parker, the star of Sex in the City.

 

The theatre scene in London: Jackie wore tight jeans, a little too tight for sitting for a few hours, but nonetheless, at least they were clean. With those particular jeans, she has to wear her highest sandals, her five foot five shoes, she calls them. (She’s five foot one and a half inches in wet feet.) It was hot and humid and the cinema would be full, so she put on her ten year old silk, baby blue halter neck top with no sleeves. It’s one of her old favorites.

 

“Very Sarah J.P,” Jackie’s equally vertically challenged friend,Fiona, said to her on arrival, donning her dark, Givenchy sun glasses to good Sex in the City effect and blowing her two air kisses. According to Jackie her friend has flawless olive skin and gleaming, straight chestnut brown hair and does look a bit like Kristin Davis, aka Charlotte York.  Fiona put her arm though Jackie’s and on her insistence they walked in together like super stars. The eight British ladies swarmed around the kiosk, filling their arms with the buckets of popcorn  and ordering luke warm cafe lattes in plastic cups because they were too late for Pimms And Lemonade in the pub next door. They giggled and swapped compliments on their varied array of beads, the color of toe nails and Louise’s impressive fake tan. Once prices had been divided by two and three and four, change given and returned, given and returned, they made their way to screen four.

 

Their seats were right at the back, all together, in one line. As Jackie walked up the aisle, juggling her three cups and a bucket, she noticed a girl of about twenty. The girl held up her hand in front of her mouth and whispered to her friend. Then she gave Jackie a small, shy wave. As Jackie continued walking away, the hysterical giggling would have made her fear she had her dress caught in her knickers, but she wasn’t wearing one… dress that is. She couldn’t turn to see if the laughter was aimed at her because the cups and bucket wouldn’t have negotiated the turn. So she carried on, paranoid, and desperate to put down her food  and disappear into a seat. When she arrived at her row, gorgeous, lofty Louise put her arm around her and laughed “No! Not you as well,” Jackie groaned. “What have I done?” Louise pointed to the row of women in front of her. “They asked if you were Sarah Jessica Parker,” she said. “I just nodded.”

 

Meanwhile back in Miami the movie was in full tilt. The fun of any of the SATC films is wondering how the girls especially Carrie  get away with wearing so little and not get mugged. When I travel I try to look as much like Inspector Clouseau (Pink Panther) as possible thus to avoid unwanted male attention. My trench coat has circled the globe three times with me inside it. The idea of running around in teeny skirts and more than flats let alone 5 inch heels terrifies me. I would feel so vulnerable. What if I had to run from a thug? How would I get away? I look at my friends… Sierra Michaels is wearing umpty inch wedge heels that would prevent a hasty escape, but then again she’s much more athletic than me. She could kick-box her way out of a mugger’s grip. Tina was wearing black suede Pradas with gold leather trim and five inch heels, but like most publicity pros she can handle herself. I’d have to rely on sarcasm and mean faces.