There was a time when Carrie Bradshaw wasn’t just a character—she was a movement. She was the poster woman for single life in the city, navigating love, heartbreak, and Manolo Blahniks with a Cosmo in hand and a typewriter clacking in the background. But now, with the third season of HBO’s And Just Like That... limping to a close, it appears the beloved columnist-turned-cultural icon has typed her last thought-provoking question. And if we’re being honest, it’s been a slow, uncomfortable fade to black.
Carrie Bradshaw, once synonymous with fierce independence, witty commentary, and impossibly impractical fashion choices, has now become a shadow of her former self. Portrayed by Sarah Jessica Parker with sparkle and spunk for over two decades, the character has struggled to evolve with the grace fans expected. This season’s version of Carrie feels like a puzzle missing half its pieces—and the ones still in the box don’t seem to fit.
Longtime fans have watched with a mixture of nostalgia and disbelief as Carrie Bradshaw stumbles through underwhelming storylines, confusing character choices, and a general lack of narrative purpose. Somewhere between the tragic Peloton incident and the “barefoot in the hallway” subplot, Carrie lost the very essence that once made her so compelling. In truth, this isn’t just the end of a reboot—it’s the burial of a pop culture icon.
A reboot that forgot its roots

What began as a bold opportunity to explore aging, friendship, and identity in a richer, more mature light has instead devolved into clumsy storytelling and character inconsistencies. The revival’s creative team—now led solely by Michael Patrick King—seems determined to reinvent the wheel, even if it rolls square. Gone is the woman who once gave voice to a generation of romantics and realists alike; in her place is someone who apologizes for eating stew and shrugs off infidelity like it's a mild weather report.
The sparkly, subversive DNA of Sex and the City has been replaced with low-stakes drama and an inexplicable focus on side characters who, while occasionally charming, never earned their spotlight. Even the show’s signature wit has become a casualty. This Carrie Bradshaw doesn’t write clever columns; she takes off her shoes when the neighbor asks nicely. It's not character growth—it's character evaporation.
Time to let go of Carrie Bradshaw

While Sarah Jessica Parker remains the elegant heart of the show, even she has hinted at discomfort with some of Carrie’s new directions. Her offscreen comments about skipping scenes or not watching the show altogether emphasize the disconnection between actor and character. And with no official word on a fourth season, the signs are all there: HBO may finally be ready to close the closet door on those infamous tutus and let Carrie Bradshaw rest.
But perhaps that is perfectly acceptable. Perhaps the past serves as an anchor weighing us down. As an audience, we held on to the expectation that Carrie would grow old just as ferociously and without remorse as she once lived—but much like life, television doesn’t always offer a fulfilling narrative. If this is really the ending, then maybe we should uncork one last Cosmopolitan and celebrate what she was instead of what she turned into.
Goodbye, Carrie. We’ll always have the Plaza.