Girl crush.
Sarah Jessica Parker is on the media circuit now, promoting her new movie, Did you hear about the Morgans? I’ve caught her late night on David Letterman and mid-morning on Regis & Kelly — even scooped up a few fashion magazines with her fabulous self front & center. With this cult-like following I exhibit, it hit me — I have a girl crush. Physically, I’d say Megan Fox is my visual cup of tea. But my overall dream girl is SJP.
In Sex & The City, I related to her character Carrie on many levels. She was a writer and had a dating column. I used to write an online blind date column, and now have a personal blog chronicling my own journey for a husband. She had accumulated some serious credit card debt — specifically toward her ridiculously spoiled closet, my wallet of plastic has a long-running case of bronchitis from all the wear and tear. She dated a tall, dark and handsome man on and off for years who wouldn’t commit, so did I. She treasured her close-knit group of girlfriends as family separated at birth, mine are one in the same. Even down to random details — our columns both ran on Wednesdays, we wear the same shoe size, and have an infatuation with changing hair colors and styles on a seasonal basis. Last but certainly not least, Carrie had an obsession with stilettos — I break into a cold sweat whenever passing a storefront of artwork dedicated to feet.
In the flesh, I also relate to SJP herself in meaningful and not so meaningful ways. We both come from extra large families. We both have two first names. We both love language and use it carefully and creatively. We are both in love with New York City. We both laugh at our own jokes. And, no different than her alter ego, equally savor some quality frocks. I’m covered in *beauty marks* and have had more than a dozen sliced off, she recently caused a frenzy by having her staple “signature” chin mole removed.
The dapper and debonair Derek Jeter may hold the key to my heart, but SJP is my sole mate.
