\n
Charlotte having an uncomfortable run-in at her husband’s cancer treatment center in \u201cSilent Mode.”<\/p>\n
Photo: Courtesy of Warner Bros. Discovery<\/cite><\/div>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nAs I processed those unanswered questions through the rest of the episode, I could feel my connection to Carrie snapping like a rubber band stretched past its limits. I don\u2019t think the show\u2019s production team meant to imply what I inferred from that scene, but it didn\u2019t change the fact that she had glossed over and even justified a frustrating number of red flags Aidan had waved before this. Carrie\u2019s knack for questionable decision-making in her 30s is what made her a captivatingly (and sometimes infuriatingly) relatable character in Sex and the City<\/em>, but watching her wake up in her long-distance, low-commitment boyfriend\u2019s house in full glam and then act like things were peachy keen as a 50-something went beyond questionable\u2014she seemed completely detached from the reality of the situation, as if she\u2019d been wiped clean of all the dating lessons we watched her learn so many years ago. She felt almost like a stranger.<\/p>\nFrom thereon out, these instances of over-polish were all I could see when I watched the show, one of which even felt like a personal attack. Earlier in the season, Charlotte\u2019s husband Harry learns he has prostate cancer, which he asks Charlotte to keep a secret\u2014and she manages to until a scene in episode six, \u201cSilent Mode,\u201d wherein she runs into Carrie at a pharmacy and ends up tearfully confiding in her about Harry\u2019s diagnosis. Sobbing in Carrie\u2019s arms, Charlotte looks as she always does with her sculpted barrel waves and full-coverage porcelain complexion. Kristin Davis makes a meal out of the performance, and her tears are so believable until you realize there\u2019s no running mascara, no streaks in her base makeup, no hair falling into her face. I couldn\u2019t help but imagine a director calling cut mid-sob so someone could touch up Davis\u2019s makeup before it dared to smudge.<\/p>\n
Ironically enough, I watched that episode not long after my own father was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and I had been a wreck for months at that point. I was barely taking showers and washing my face let alone styling my hair or putting on makeup. In a way it gladdened me to see a show tackling what I\u2019ve learned is a rather common but underdiscussed experience, but watching Charlotte maintain her impenetrable Upper East Side fa\u00e7ade in that moment and beyond while I was sporting stained sweatpants, unwashed hair, and a greasy, tear-soaked face undermined the physical and emotional exhaustion that cancer patients and their loved ones face in reality. As a result, Charlotte, my favorite character in the whole franchise, simply didn\u2019t feel as real to me as she did before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lisa Todd Wexler during a tense meeting about her father’s funeral plans in \u201cSilent Mode.\u201d<\/p>\n
Photo: Courtesy of Warner Bros. Discovery<\/cite><\/div>\n<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nThere are more examples I could get into (like Lisa Todd Wexler mourning the death of her father in the cuntiest little bob of all time), but that last tidbit really says it all. Whether people are actively clocking them or not, the choices made by a show\u2019s hair and makeup department are an integral part of the storytelling process. They can make the difference between a viewer feeling embedded in a fictional world and a viewer being distracted by the sense that something\u2019s off (this also played out with The Last of Us<\/em><\/a> earlier this year). When it\u2019s done with intention, putting a character in a ponytail versus a blowout or showing dark circles instead of covering them up clues us into how a character is feeling beyond what they say out loud.<\/p>\nThe glam in Sex and the City<\/em> was arguably overdone at times, too, but it was<\/em> intentional, reflecting its characters\u2019 personalities and evolutions in the way they colored, cut, or styled their hair, among other things (Carrie\u2019s corkscrew curls didn\u2019t become iconic just because they were pretty). In the case of And Just Like That\u2026<\/em> the hairstyling and makeup seemingly had little intention other than making its actors look beautiful.<\/p>\nWe could argue about whether these fictional women use their hyper-polished looks as a way to exert control in their lives, and I won\u2019t deny there\u2019s merit to that argument. But like Sex and the City,<\/em> the whole schtick of And Just Like That\u2026<\/em> is telling stories that convey what it\u2019s really like to be a modern-day woman. But, much as we\u2019d like to, women in real life rarely look picture-perfect through phases of grief or frustration or confusion. Carrie\u2019s invincibly slick buns or Charlotte\u2019s impressively tear-proof makeup surely aren\u2019t the reason for the show\u2019s cancellation\u2014but I can\u2019t deny that it would have been objectively better if we\u2019d been allowed to see the less polished versions of them\u2014the versions that actually reflect reality.<\/p>\nMore from the beauty news desk:<\/strong><\/p>\nNow, watch Nicole Kidman break down her most iconic looks:<\/strong><\/p>\nFollow<\/em> Allure on<\/em>\u00a0Instagram<\/em><\/a> and<\/em>\u00a0TikTok<\/a>, or<\/em>\u00a0 subscribe to our newsletter<\/em><\/a> to stay up to date on all things beauty.<\/em><\/p>\nOriginally Appeared on Allure<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n