Sex and the City was a TV show (and, later, a series of peculiar films) about four debauchery seeking women with a lust for booze, men, and shopping. It was pretty sensational stuff, frankly, and most men simply adored it. Not that they’d admit it, of course, but we’re willing to bet 70% of men who watched it loved it. The films were weird, though, and you should watch the film critic Mark Kermode’s gloriously scathing Sex and the City 2 rant for a laugh.
Things could have been so much more different, and so much more critically acclaimed. How? Well, we often feel socks are overlooked in televisual feasts, placed on the backburner in favour of more “exciting” topics such as: 20/30 somethings living in big cities, relationships, some chemistry guy going nuts and cooking meth, or some drunks and their socialising in a pub. Socks and the City would have provided none of this and more!
It would have starred the same cast, but instead of pursuing carnal desires through a mixture of cocktails and rampant hedonism, socks would have been the story of the day. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda would have been the owners of four respective sock shops, all of them competing violently for commercial supremacy.
The sock trade is a harsh mistress, and the four competitors would have taken a unique approach to their marketing and sales endeavours. As expert marketers ourselves, we’d have been able to get judgemental on the crazy antics of the, initially, naïve sock sellers. In time, however, we’d have rejoiced as their shops made earnings, gradually forming into vast conglomerates which forced socks upon the world in their billions.
There would have been laughter (that time Carrie’s shop was infested by an army of diseased rats), sadness (Samantha losing an arm whilst wrestling with a football hooligan), trauma (Miranda selling her shop, Socks ‘N’ Socks ‘N’ Socks, earning $70 billion, and buying out Google), and horror (Charlotte losing her favourite pair of socks and burning her shop down in pursuit of them).
The season finale would have seen, as is known in the industry, a Sock Off where the four shop owners would have gathered in times square and busted out a gangsta rap. For the winner, the key to the city! The losers? Thrashed to within an inch of their lives with pungent old socks.
Socks and the City would have been better than Sex and the City, of this we are certain. It would have won 37 Emmy awards, an Oscar (for the hell of it), and grown men would have wept at the sheer beauty of it all. Alas, it shall never be. It shall never be.