The “Sex and the City” movie (motto: “Like watching four episodes back-to-back”) is shooting in where-else this month, and not many days go by without one of the gossip rags or websites featuring a photo taken on-set. The good news (I guess): Nothing really changes. Carrie isn’t wearing jeans and polos, or even sweats with an Hermes-scarf-as-halter-top. But it’s a good thing this is a movie, because you’re going to need one wiiiide screen for this getup.
The other day the NYPost reported the crew was shooting the Big/Carrie wedding scenes at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, which I forwarded to Amy, because if there’s anything that brightens an orthodox Catholic’s day, it’s news that the One True Church has allowed a production celebrating guilt-free, non-marital fornication to use one of its most famous North American cathedrals as a location.
But we may have to get the Pope involved, after all:
I’m thinking a papal bull condemning stylist Patricia Field is called for here. She has plainly lost her mind.
Never mind the propriety of dressing a woman on the far side of 40 in a dress last worn by the 20-year-old Princess Diana — this is a cathedral wedding, after all. Never mind the horror it makes of SJP’s bony, chicken chest. What is that thing on her head?
I told Amy it was either a Bride of Frankenstein riff or else an abstract representation of the Holy Spirit. Your guess is as good as mine.