jump to navigation

let’s go. May 9, 2010

Posted by Victoria Fredericks in Uncategorized.
add a comment

Dear beautiful Glamour Junkies,

Please refer to: vfredericks.wordpress.com from now on. I’ve transferred all the goodies and am slowly getting into a new blogging vibe.





me, myself, and Carrie Bradshaw May 24, 2008

Posted by Victoria Fredericks in Culture, Dating/Relationships, Personal, Television, Uncategorized.
Tags: , ,

My personal love affair with a fictional icon

Her name has become synonymous with style and the chic, single-girl lifestyle. She represents the new woman’s funny, sharp, likable everygirl. She’s Carrie Bradshaw, possibly one of the most influential fictional characters to ever influence a generation. Sex and the City played a huge role in revolutionizing the way America views single women; presenting the idea that we do not have to be programmed primarily to achieve the cookie-cutter life targets we’ve been told we should reach for so long (marriage, house, baby, etc). Instead, the bachelorette cherishes single life, independence and freedom. The major storylines in the show, however, do center on not whether or not the characters do in fact marry, have children, or even serious relationships, but how they do it–without losing their sense of self. Being single is not the key, a sense of self is, and Carrie Bradshaw leads the way.

Along with many other women around the world, I have always identified with Carrie. She’s all about opening your heart and your mind at the same time. She’s witty, she’s sharp, she’s sexy–but all in a very accessible, believable way. Mine and Carrie’s “storylines” have coincided as I have watched and re-watched the show and begun to experience my single life as a young woman. While I’m not near my thirties yet, I still feel the inevitable pull from older influences–and society in general–to “settle down,” whatever that means. For Carrie and I, marriage and “happily ever after” is not the be-all, end-all in life. And just like Carrie, I’m a career-focused girl but not necessarily as schooled or as driven as the other three women on the show.

I feel akin to Carrie in many ways. She smokes and drinks and has had a fair helping of casual dating and one-night-stands, but at the end of the day, she’s an old-fashioned girl. She believes in the One, she believes in romance, and most of all, she believes in love. She’s sentimental and reflective. All women are complex, but I relate to Carrie a lot in this way too–her needs and feelings are often conflicted and result in charged and sometimes difficult relationships with men. She’s had to know when to walk away, and it’s bittersweet; especially in her second breakup with Aidan, whom she truly loved and respected, but it just didn’t work, and she couldn’t be what he wanted her to be. It’s never easy to strike a balance. Not just anyone will do. Mischiko Kakutani accused Carrie of “disposing” of men when she reviewed her book in Season Five; I’ve had many of my older friends and colleagues say the same thing to me. But I digress: When searching for a soulmate, one can never be too picky. And so continues the endless search. Carrie was looking for love, real love. “Ridiculous, consuming, can’t live without each other love.” And she found it, as we all hoped and predicted–in Mr. Big.

It’s easy to make a sweeping judgment of the carefree single girl–Carrie and myself included–and throw out terms like “promiscuous” and the like. Aside from the ludicrous societal double-standard, I like to believe that I’ve maintained a moral compass. You can’t look back, you can only learn. Carrie is flawed. I am flawed. We trip over things, we can’t (don’t?) cook, have messy apartments and high credit card bills due to an unshakable shopping addiction. But she’s real–still fictional–but that’s what makes the show so amazing. The writers really, really made Carrie real and relatable to all of us. We can look at her and say: “I’m her.”

beautiful disaster? March 5, 2008

Posted by Victoria Fredericks in Uncategorized.
1 comment so far

While I must confess that my life–creative and physical–is always in a sort of slight disarray, heavily afflicted by procrastination (I’m supposed to be doing laundry right now) –there is nothing better than that apres-cleaning feeling. Look at me! I’ve put away my dishes. My electronics are Swiffered and have been rendered dustless. My clothes, sheets and towels are laundry-fresh. My life is beautiful! I’m in control! I can take on the world!

Sigh. If only. I live alone, and if you cruelly “drop in” on me (in which case, figure I have 30 seconds to reasonably sort my apartment, hide my dirty playthings, dirty lingerie, dirty trash, and chuck those dirty dishes into the dirty sink) you’ll discover my somewhat chaotic natural state of living. Before company, especially anticipated male visitors, I try to spend the day prior putting things in order…but that almost never happens. I wind up doing odd tasks completely unrelated to housekeeping, like writing this for instance. My mom used to tell me that creative people can never be fully organized because there’s just too much activity going on in our heads. Maybe…that and I’m forgetful. I leave lights on then I’m not in the room (for mucho kilowatt hours, want my electricity bill? Also prefer a balmy 75 in winter and frosty AC in summer) , forget where I put things…and have we talked about procrastination yet?

I’m waiting helplessly for the perfect man to enter my life so I can finally have a working smoke detector and over-sink light (my landlord, apparently isn’t that man, I’ve discovered, a few pleading machine messages later). Not that I couldn’t do it, but I certainly couldn’t do it with alacrity and poise, that’s for sure. When my toilet became clogged a few months back, I remember poring at EHow.com for an unreasonable amount of time, then frantically calling a reliable ex-boyfriend for advice…I managed to come out triumphant in the end.

While there’s no feeling more impervious and domestically satisfying than having a tidy house, there’s none more temporary. I’m constantly striving, never achieving. My apartment, and yes–my life–are going to always be in some state of crisis.

Well, off to do the laundry…with my newfound sense of bizarre urgency.