'The Unmarried Woman'

Why Carrie Bradshaw Was Made to Be Hated...

Carrie Bradshaw wasn’t just the queen of cosmos and couture; she was a walking conversation starter. To some, she was an iconic symbol of independence, strutting through Manhattan in heels that cost more than her rent. To others, she was a maddening contradiction—a woman who embodied empowerment while perpetually undone by her own choices.

Carrie’s life glistened like a pair of new Tiffany earrings: her rent-controlled brownstone, the enviable designer wardrobe, and her seemingly effortless column that funded it all (or so we were led to believe). Yet, as aspirational as her world appeared, it was steeped in contradictions. Carrie’s empowerment was constantly undercut by her insecurities, most visibly in her obsession with ‘Mr. Big’—a man epitomising emotional unavailability, the ultimate red flag.

‘Big’ was, in every sense, larger than life—his ego, his wealth, and his ability to remain emotionally distant. And Carrie? She was a woman caught in a never-ending loop, swinging between running towards him and running away from herself. Despite her confident columns and proclamations of independence, she couldn’t quit him, even when it meant erasing parts of herself to fit into his elusive world. It was as futile as watching Carrie try to give up Marlboros for Aidan...

But was that Carrie’s flaw, or was it a reflection of something deeper? Society has been whispering the same tired story to women for years: no matter how successful or self-sufficient you are, your value is still measured by the man standing beside you.

Carrie’s best friends were no strangers to these pressures, either. Samantha, with her unapologetic embrace of sexuality, was painted as "too much," free yet forever branded as the woman destined to be alone. Miranda could win a courtroom battle before breakfast but couldn’t eat cake without judgement from her peers. Charlotte? She had the ‘fairy-tale dream’, only to later admit her perfect marriage was more fake Fendi than Prada. Carrie summed it up perfectly: “What if no one’s coming to save you?” Charlotte’s story wasn’t about waiting for a knight in shining armour; it was about waking up and realising she didn’t need one.

And yet, Carrie stayed stuck. She lived in the in-between—not as hard-nosed as Miranda, not as unapologetic as Samantha, and nowhere near as romantic as Charlotte. She was messy, imperfect, and unapologetically Carrie. By this I mean she could eloquently write about independence, yet falter at the mere sound of Big’s voice. The woman who indulged in $600 designer heels still craved validation from a man who offered her nothing but crumbs in return…

Ultimately, her choices stirred admiration and frustration in equal measure. Why risk losing someone like Aidan, who was loving and dependable, to chase the toxic pull of Big? The painful reality was that society had conditioned women to believe that the ultimate victory was the chase—the pursuit of the man who always seemed just out of reach.

And then there was the other elephant in the room: being single. For Carrie, ‘unmarried’ was never just a relationship status—it was a verdict. Every bad date, and failed relationship, felt like proof she was falling short of society’s expectations. Even when she rejected convention, her storylines often revolved around the same exhausting question: how far is too far when it comes to love?

What made Carrie memorable wasn’t her fashion or even her writing—it was her flaws. She wasn’t perfect because no woman can be. She reflected the impossible rules we’re all expected to live by as women: be independent, but not too independent. Be successful, but still approachable. Be sexy, but not in a way that makes people uncomfortable.

Carrie wasn’t created to be perfect; she was designed to provoke. She challenged us to reflect on the boxes we place women in and questioned the fine line between empowerment and entrapment. Was she a feminist icon, or was she proof that even the most glamorous women are weighed down by societal expectations?

Carrie wasn’t a role model; she was a mirror. She forced us to question the way we think about women, their choices, and the labels we put on them. Feminist icon or cautionary tale? Maybe she was a bit of both…

What’s certain is this: Carrie’s story wasn’t about the shoes, the men, or even the city. It was about trying to figure out who you are when everyone else is trying to tell you who to be. And maybe, just maybe, she taught us that the only thing harder to wear than a pair of five-inch Manolos is the weight of everyone else’s expectations.