Sex and the City in Hong Kong
Central, Hong Kong
2nd November, 2024
I shake my head, trying to conjure up the image of Hong Kong,
and fleeting glimpses come to mind.
I see the poised heroines from old Hong Kong dramas,
donning Ralph Lauren's iconic striped dresses from the '90s,
clutching briefcases as they merge into the throng on Pedder Street.
Then there's the vision of a sultry lady in a fiery red dress,
navigating the uneven cobblestone alleys.
But my impression of Hong Kong is as crisp as autumn air.
The moment I try to grasp it, it slips through my fingers,
turning to liquid as it drips off my hand and smears over the red cover of 'Sex and the City'.
In Manhattan, Carrie steps gracefully in a lotus-patterned Vivienne Tam skirt;
she and her three friends sit by a window,
watching a strip show unfold in the building across,
with Samantha wearing a blue silk YSL chiffon dress adorned with golden velvet roses.
Carrieās handbag, printed with magazine covers,
dangles as she crosses paths with her ex, Big, on a boat.
Back in her New York apartment, sheās cinched into a '90s Dolce & Gabbana corset,
opening yet another "not quite right" gift from Big.
Every street corner where she might bump into an old lover;
every gift that misses the mark;
every path walked with friends in carefree laughter.
Love, hate, joy, and unforgettable memoriesāthey all blaze brightly after you've left them behind.
And then it strikes meāIāve been living my own 'Sex and the City' in Hong Kong all along,
vibrantly and unapologetically alive.
I am Carrie. We all are.
I shake my head, trying to conjure up the image of Hong Kong,
and fleeting glimpses come to mind.
I see the poised heroines from old Hong Kong dramas,
donning Ralph Lauren's iconic striped dresses from the '90s,
clutching briefcases as they merge into the throng on Pedder Street.
Then there's the vision of a sultry lady in a fiery red dress,
navigating the uneven cobblestone alleys.
But my impression of Hong Kong is as crisp as autumn air.
The moment I try to grasp it, it slips through my fingers,
turning to liquid as it drips off my hand and smears over the red cover of 'Sex and the City'.
In Manhattan, Carrie steps gracefully in a lotus-patterned Vivienne Tam skirt;
she and her three friends sit by a window,
watching a strip show unfold in the building across,
with Samantha wearing a blue silk YSL chiffon dress adorned with golden velvet roses.
Carrieās handbag, printed with magazine covers,
dangles as she crosses paths with her ex, Big, on a boat.
Back in her New York apartment, sheās cinched into a '90s Dolce & Gabbana corset,
opening yet another "not quite right" gift from Big.
Every street corner where she might bump into an old lover;
every gift that misses the mark;
every path walked with friends in carefree laughter.
Love, hate, joy, and unforgettable memoriesāthey all blaze brightly after you've left them behind.
And then it strikes meāIāve been living my own 'Sex and the City' in Hong Kong all along,
vibrantly and unapologetically alive.
I am Carrie. We all are.