If you're anything like us and had so much as a pulse in the late '90s or early aughts, we're willing to wager that the fuel to your teenage fantasies of making it in the big city as a sassy columnist with a roster of handsome men at your beck and call and a shoe closet filled with every rare Manolo known to the Barneys shoe department was (duh) Sex and the City. Yes, you roll your eyes at the Mr. Big dialogue and the very notion of having a $40,000 shoe collection on a writer's wages, but that Dior newspaper dress? The "I had to wonder..." interludes? Samantha's sexcapades? They were the sort of thing every girl sneaking to stay up late and get in on her parents' HBO subscription's dreams were made of.
If a post-recession, more-down-to-earth and simply cooler equivalent exists, it's Karley Sciortino. Bear with us for a sec: Sciortino lives in Williamsburg and is a lot more vintage Moschino than Manolo, but she writes her own blog about sex and dating (Slutever is way better reading than the fictional New York Star anyway, BTW…) and she writes her own column, "Breathless” for Vogue, which was pretty much Carrie Bradshaw’s dream gig. (This might actually be the first time real life trumps SATC fiction.) And when Sciortino drew the comparison herself, we knew we were kind of on to something “For years, when writing my sex blog Slutever, people would jokingly refer to me as Carrie Bradshaw, which, of course, I loved because SATC is my favorite show of all time,” and we totally agreed with her there. “So being approached by Vogue was great because I felt it really solidified the likeness,” she told us as we flipped through enviable vintage Alaïa (including her “lucky” dress—click through below to find out why) and lacy Agent Provocateur lingerie. We mean, talk about making it in the big city, right?
After sharing a large pitcher of homemade iced tea, Sciortino took us through her multiple rolling racks, from a perfectly ‘90s Calvin Klein slip dress to a Saint Laurent cropped jacket and enough vintage to stock her own shop. While the writer admitted to her predisposition for power dressing (defined as super fitted skirt suits and a red lip, in case you were wondering), she looked about as comfortable in her self-designed “vaj t-shirt” and white panties as she did in the black and white checkered suit she’d just had fitted. Carrie Bradshaw could never have pulled that off—just saying.