Our Journey to Miranda
Lauren and Chelsea here. We are the authors of this book, and we are both Mirandas. Chelsea is a Miranda with a Samantha rising and Lauren is a Miranda with a Carrie rising—but more on that later. Even though we are proud to identify as Mirandas today, the road to self-acceptance has been rough. When we first discovered Sex and the City, both of us felt a strong kinship with Carrie. She was the series’ preeminent It girl, with a cool job, a hot sex life, and a plentiful supply of Nicolas Ghesquiere-era Balenciaga. She was charismatic and impossibly chic, yet flawed enough to be relatable. In a matter of months, we were both self-proclaimed Carries, with the vintage slip dresses to prove it. Chelsea smoked Ms. Bradshaw’s preferred brand of cigarettes (Marlboro Lights) before begrudgingly quitting, while Lauren almost broke up with her college boyfriend for merely suggesting that she was a Miranda. It’s shameful to admit, but in the early aughts, no one wanted to be a Miranda—but we both had a change of heart when we revisited the series as adults. Miranda’s take-no-shit attitude was inspiring. Her pantsuits were chicer than we remembered, and her mere presence was an essential counter to Carrie’s drama and Charlotte’s optimism. After repeat viewings, we started to question why we had aligned ourselves with Carrie at all, especially given her fondness for finance bros and fascinators.
We Should All Be Mirandas was born from our satirical Instagram account Every Outfit on Sex & the City (@everyoutfitonsatc), which launched in 2016 with a simple mission to document every outfit on the series. After conceiving of the account during a night of drinking, we began posting images of the show’s more outrageous ensembles, accompanied by irreverent captions. Within days, it amassed tens of thousands of followers. We anticipated that our audience would enjoy revisiting Carrie’s wacky fashion blunders—after all, her belt-over-a-bare-midriff look is just as batshit today as it was in 2002. But it quickly became apparent that Ms. Hobbes had an equally devoted (and chronically underserved) fan base. A post celebrating her overalls and puffer coat look from season two elicited such a strong response that we realized that there were a lot of other closeted Mirandas out there.
This revelation led us to question exactly why we had been so reluctant to identify with her in the first place. It quickly became apparent that we had been gaslit—by society, and the series itself—into believing that Miranda was the least aspirational character. Sure, she had her awkward moments, and yes, some of her hairstyles throughout the course of the show were truly bizarre. At the end of the day, though, this woman is a Harvard graduate who made partner by the age of thirty-five. She owns a brownstone and employs a full-time housekeeper. If that isn’t aspirational, we don’t know what is.
After we became aware of the societal bias against the Miranda-identified, we had to give it a name: Mirandaphobia. We delve into this concept on page 12, but in short, Mirandaphobia is the belief that Mirandas are inferior to other Sex and the City personality types. After internalizing this toxic messaging for most of our adult lives, we hid our true nature from our friends, our families, and (most importantly) ourselves. This resulted in some seriously self-destructive behavior, like romanticizing toxic love affairs and wearing stilettos in the dead of winter. We thought that adopting a Carrie-esque lifestyle would lead us down the path of enlightenment. Instead, we wound up with sociopathic lovers and a closet full of regrettable H&M purchases. However, after a considerable amount of soul-searching, we are proud to say that Miranda Hobbes is the only icon we need. Beyond her six-figure salary and designer wardrobe, Miranda’s fierce intelligence and drama-free approach to living are the real things worth coveting. She speaks her mind, stands her ground, and refuses to apologize for her success—or the contents of her bedside drawer. Ms. Hobbes eschews repressive gender norms with style and grace, all while serving up the greatest menswear looks that you’ve ever seen. In short, we should all be Mirandas. To those of you who are out and proud, we salute you. As for those of you who are still closeted, we hope this helps.
—Chelsea Fairless & Lauren Garroni