Carrie Bradshaw and Me

Love, labels, the love of labels, and a walk-in closet the size of Chelsea. We all have our reasons for living and dreaming in New York City. Coincidentally...or because of great taste...my main reasons happen to resemble those of Carrie Bradshaw--the fictional fashionista and columnist we've all come to know and love thanks to Sarah Jessica Parker and Sex and the City--does that give people the right to want to adorn me with the "I'm a Carrie" tee or title?

Granted, our interests and characteristics to run somewhat deeper...
In addition to our core of friends--I, too, have my Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha (as a matter of fact, I have 2 or 3 Samanthas)--we're both fashion conscience and forward, old-fashioned with a modern twist, and deep romantics at heart. For me, when I say deep romantic, I mean I have values I won't sacrifice and standards that I refuse to lower. Call me a diva and say my standards for love are unrealistic if you want, but I will see stars and sparkles, hear bells and whistles, and be engulfed by twinkling lights, hearts stopping, and bombs bursting in air. When it happens, don't be jealous...Carrie found her Big, I'll find mine, too. I've been to the point where "I revealed too much too soon. I was emotionally slutty." (That might have been last weekend, but that's another story.) Please note--and don't forget or misinterpret--this doesn't mean I'm after the ring or the long white train. I've already said...it's all about the walk-in closet, labels, and 100xx ZIP code.

Throughout all of this, I do believe many compare Carrie and I for our personalities and our love and style of writing -- the way we share our musings on life, relationships, New York City, and anything else that needs to be addressed (ok, that may be all mine; we have to have our differences somewhere); but, let's not get 'carrie-d' away. All of this doesn't mean I have an inner Caroline Marie Bradshaw. Does it?