Sex and the Other City
The first rule of television seems to be: if something works once, do it again. Sarah Jessica Parker’s production company has reportedly optioned the novel Prospect Park West to turn into a TV show. The book, by former sex columnist Amy Sohn, who also wrote the companion book for HBO’s Sex and the City, chronicles…
The first rule of television seems to be: if something works once, do it again. Sarah Jessica Parker’s production company has reportedly optioned the novel Prospect Park West to turn into a TV show. The book, by former sex columnist Amy Sohn, who also wrote the companion book for HBO’s Sex and the City, chronicles the lives, urges, and dissatisfactions of four Park Slope mothers. Here’s how The Post summed it up this morning: “The book creates a scathing portrait of Park Slope’s mommy brigade — of which Sohn is a breast-feeding member — as a parade of unsatisfied thirty- and forty-something moms sizing up their plights relative to all the other stroller-pushers at the playground. Few are having sex — at least not with their spouses.” It’s definitely the Sex and the City formula, but who knows if it will take off? Gawker asks the more important question: will it ruin Park Slope? There is already a festoon of strollers; will Berkeley Place now be clogged with red double-decker buses?
Sarah Jessica Parker’s Sex & the Stroller Set Show [Gawker]
Treading on a Slippery Slope [NY Post]
Is Prospect Park West the New SATC? [BuzzSugar]
Wow – you guys are funny
that Bayridge one is poifect!
I know, right?
you guys are hilarious!!
Yep, Bay Ridge! And Bushwick was awesome! We should write a book….
What the hell, is this turning into some type of writer’s workshop?
rh – I know the difference between a mom and a nanny – even when the nanny isnt Caribbean….
MM – please tell me where i might spot some “chic” looking PS Moms
Thanks
Park Sloper, I think I wuv you. Bay Ridge?
you want bitchy, you should see stay-at-home vs. working moms at a 321 PTA meeting!
Bushwick.
“Those men are staring at us.” Rosalie elbowed me, half-disrupting little Stone, who had fallen asleep feeding again.
I shrugged. “It’s a free fucking country. Let them look.”
One of them hooted appreciatively, sucking in his cheeks lewdly. “Nice, Mami!”
My friend laughed, a little nervous. Sometimes I didn’t think Rosalie really belonged here, not like I did. You could see the suburbs bred in her bone, especially in a place like Maria Hernandez Park.
“So anyways–” I raised my voice a little to get her attention again. She was watching her son, Suydam, take some tentative steps towards the slide. “I’ve got this great opportunity to direct, but I’m not sure if we can swing the child care. It’s such a drag–”
“Yeah,” she echoed emptily. I could tell she wasn’t really listening. Why did some women seem to lose all their brain cells when their kids were around? “Hold on — Suy — put that down!!”
Suydam turned to look at us, face in a comical ‘o’. The broken beer bottle dangled from his hand.
“Ooops,” I giggled, watching as she retrieved the deadly weapon and dispatched it in the nearest trash can. “Wow, close one.”