Touche Ann Hornaday

I read Ann Hornaday’s review of Sex and the City in the Washington Post and one paragraph stuck out.

Parker, far from a conventional beauty, rocks a mean smoky eye, and proves that even at 43 she’s a clotheshorse extraordinaire. Here she works the screen like a catwalk, never ending up, like Carrie did in one famous episode, as fashion roadkill. (For the uninitiated on their way to "Sex and the City" this weekend: Think of the clothes, shoes and accessories simply as the movie’s version of Iron Man’s robot suit, Speed Racer’s cars or Indiana Jones’s fedora and bullwhip. And judge not others’ escapist fetishes lest ye be judged.)

I normally scoff at that sort of thing, but I’ve got to say game, set, and match.