
For two series, it’s felt as though And Just Like That has been deliberately trying to turn off Sex and the City fans.
Che Diaz was criminally offensive to non-binary people and comedy; every storyline was a misfire so off the mark it felt like it was trying to hurt us; and the gaping hole left by Samantha Jones was inescapable.
Basically, watching the series’ desperate attempts to right the politically correct wrongs of Sex and the City’s past have been unbearable.
So far, the show’s only redeeming quality, and the one which keeps Sex and the City’s most loyal fanbase invested, is that it’s allowed us to get reacquainted with Carrie Bradshaw, Charlotte York and Miranda Hobbes, who, with Samantha, were some the most important fictional women of the late 90s.
The first two episodes of And Just Like That felt like there was so much promise. Mr Big was conveniently killed off before actor Chris Noth was accused of sexual assault by two women, and Carrie was unexpectedly single and steering through her 50s as a widow.
It wasn’t just a promising start; it was a revival with purpose – single women dating in their 50s is still somehow a novel concept for a television show, and if anyone was going to spearhead the revolution, it should be Carrie.
Charlotte has remained largely unchanged, now a mother of two insufferable teenagers and still married to the unsung hero of Sex and the City, Harry.
She’s back to working in a gallery and perhaps has more self-worth than the Charlotte we knew 20 years ago, but she’s easily the one hero who brings the most familiarity to And Just Like That.
Miranda, however, has been by far And Just Like That’s biggest problem, completely unrecognisable to the righteous, self-assured and utterly brilliant Miranda of Sex and the City – easily the most aspirational of the Fab Four.

She was needlessly cruel to her husband Steve who had done nothing wrong other than age and try to love her, she became a bumbling mess, completely useless in life and out of nowhere discovered she’s a lesbian and dated stoned gamer Che Diaz, one of the most sinister TV villains of the last decade.
She became such an unrealistic version of herself, it destroyed everything great about Miranda, as though the woman she was in the 00s was somehow shameful today, when she was by far the most progressive character the show ever had.
Thankfully, in season three, it feels as though the Sex and the City fans are finally being listened to.
Calls to rid And Just Like That of any trace of Che Diaz have been heard, Miranda is finally back to being the sharp, quick-witted career-driven lawyer she used to be, and she’s thrown herself straight back into the dating pool.

And Just Like That’s third season opens with Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda at a gay bar, Miranda on the prowl. She’s being eyed up by a bombshell sitting at the bar, only to find said bombshell is her son’s old babysitter, and her girlfriend is about to arrive.
It was a classic foot-in-mouth moment, and it was brilliant seeing Miranda, so often a pillar of strength, collapse in seconds.
Soon after, however, she’s accosted by a lonely tourist played by Rosie O’Donnell, and they spend the night in her hotel. It turns out, though, that for reasons we can’t get into here, that there’s a good reason said lonely tourist was a virgin.
Miranda taking the virginity of a person who should probably have stayed a virgin is the first storyline from And Just Like That, which bears any resemblance to the fun of Sex and the City.

It cautiously feels as though we’re finally back on the right track.
Or at least it did until the completely pointless Lisa Todd Wexley, introduced in season one as an associate of Charlotte’s, who somehow became a main character, reappeared.
There shouldn’t be a single scene in And Just Like That which doesn’t include Carrie, Miranda or Charlotte, yet it feels as though Lisa takes up more space than anyone else, and what would be a fantastic return to form for Miranda just gets lost.
Still, the essence of Miranda is back, even if we don’t see enough of it, and for now, it feels like a positive sign we’re on the road to recovery.

Carrie is putting on a brave face after going long-distance with Aidan while his son is in recovery. Again, it feels like a meaningful storyline for Carrie when And Just Like That has struggled to make the most of characters which had once been so great.
Carrie was never the most interesting thing about Sex and the City, but she definitely feels like the most consistent character in And Just Like That, with her whimsical fashion choices and constant use of puns when they’re least appropriate.
I like her much more in And Just Like That than I ever did in Sex and the City, and you’d hope with growth, everyone else would become more likeable too – but they don’t.
And Just Like That is still so far from the Sex and the City revival that could be possible by just giving the fans what they want – nostalgia, sex and Samantha. But this is the first time I’ve had any faith that it’s getting there.
And Just Like That… will be available from 30 May on Sky and streaming service NOW.
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