This is a story about a lovely couple, Rob and Elaine,
who rented a house one especially hot and sticky summer,
in the Hamptons.
Elaine invited her best single friends, Cindy and Janet.
While Rob invited his single friends, Ira and Matthew,
to share the good times and exorbitant rent.
Until one day, this lovely couple had a terrible fight
when Elaine went out for a run and twisted her ankle,
and came back early to find Rob canoodling with Janet.
And Cindy got tired of Matthew's idiotic jokes
and incessant market chatter.
And Ira tried to be there for Elaine and confessed his true feelings for her,
which she tried to laugh off as a joke.
By August, it got to the point where everything was so awkward
that nobody wanted to come back.
And that's when Janet called her friend Charlotte.
It's a really cute three-bedroom cottage.
And they're giving us a fantastic deal for the month of August.
Yeah, of course, it's a good deal.
It's haunted with cheating boyfriends and sexual rejection.
We can always burn sage.
Hey, sharing a house with your girlfriends
is fine in your 20s,
but I feel like in your 30s, isn't it a tiny bit pathetic,
like being the oldest kid at summer camp?
She has a point.
My 25-year-old assistant, Nina Grabowski,
has a summer share in Bridgehampton with 18 other girls.
They have to sleep in shifts!
What do they do when they meet someone?
Oh, they fuck in shifts too.
Hold it, hold it.
I can't believe you guys would pass up a chance
to get out of this sweltering heat.
And besides, the city's completely dead during August.
That's because everyone's in the Hamptons.
Or stuck in traffic trying to get there.
But this could be the last summer that we can actually all get together
and do something like this.
I mean, next year, who knows?
One of us could be married, or have kids.
And then we'll always regret that last summer
that we didn't spend together in the Hamptons.
Charlotte's sweet hopefulness touched something in all of us.
Okay, I'm in.
Me, too.
Fine.
But I get the late shift.
Oh, my God!
Samantha always felt like she was in her 20s
until the sight of an actual 20-something
brought her back down to Earth.
Oh, you have to try it. No, I'm getting you on the VIP list.
You have to try it for one night.
My best friend Jerry owns it.
He also owns the one in South Beach.
Yes! The same one.
I need you to proof and confirm the guest list
for the Hetrick Martin benefit,
and get me Richard Johnson, ASAP.
No, he is not a fag.
No, because I happen to have three friends
he's personally fucked.
You are nasty. You are.
Listen, I am sending you a car, to and fro,
and if you hate it, I'm gonna let you blow me.
I am!
I am serious. Off, now.
Alec, I've gotta go.
I'll keep you posted, okay?
Bye, honey.
I, um... I have personal relationships of my own, you know.
Not with my clients you don't.
And I have my own career to worry about.
Your career is being my assistant.
You're so deluded.
I mean, you wouldn't even know what's hot if it wasn't for me.
Nina, unfortunately, you don't seem to grasp
the vast difference between us.
Oh, yes, I do.
You stood in line at Studio 54.
I stood in line at Studio 54...
the movie!
I gave that bitch her first job out of college.
She didn't know a fucking thing!
These girls in their 20s, they're so spoiled and ungrateful.
They think they're it.
Yeah, don't they realize we're still it?
No, because the world validates their delusion.
And, she took a copy of my Rolodex.
-Do you think I can sue? -Um...
Excuse me, do you remember us in our 20s?
Dimly.
Have a little compassion, ladies.
The only thing worse than being single and in your 30s in this city
is being single and in your 20s.
Hey! Where have you been?
I was worried you were going to miss the Jitney!
The Hamptons Jitney is just like the bus to summer camp,
only instead of singing songs,
everyone ignores each other and talks on their cell phones.
Everyone, this is Greg.
This is Samantha, Carrie and Miranda.
-Hi! - Hi.
Greg has been going to the Hamptons every summer for 20 years.
Since I was six.
-You do the math. -Oh, I have.
Thank you.
Oh!
Ah, ah, ah, easy sister. No need to push, huh?
Four bumper-to-bumper hours later, we arrived at our new digs.
They said this place was shabby chic, I'm thinking it's much more shitty chic.
These towels are mildewed.
Actually, this whole house smells like mildew.
That's not mildew. It's beachy.
Would you all stop being so cynical?
We're lucky to be here.
Ah! Cynicism.
Now, there's one advantage we have over girls in their 20s.
I was cynical in high school.
-Who's that? -Hmm.
It's Greg, that cute guy I met on the Jitney.
I told him to drop by.
And if he asks, he thinks I'm 27.
Evidently, while we had taken the midtown tunnel,
Charlotte had taken the time tunnel.
-Hi! -Hey.
Come on in.
You guys remember Greg.
Hi, Greg.
Hey. Uh, so, listen, uh, me and my housemates
are having a big bonfire tonight out at the beach,
and I just wanted to tell you that you're all invited.
Excellent!
Here you go, ladies.
This has so much foam you could ski on the head!
Sorry, it's been a while since I've pumped a keg.
I love young men, but, come on, I mean...
the guys here, they don't even have chest hair yet!
Well, that's good news for their backs.
Sorry!
Okay, this is really fun.
How long do we have to stay?
Oh, God!
All right, I'm gonna go tell Charlotte we're leaving.
That's another thing about 20-something girls.
They're very considerate.
You can always count on one of them to hold your hair back when you vomit.
Excuse me!
Oh, my God, Carrie Bradshaw!
-Yeah? -Laurel Harris.
May I just tell you that I worship you?
I read your column every week, it's like my religion.
Oh, thank you.
I work as an assistant in a publishing house,
but I'm really a writer.
Oh, great.
Well, we'll see.
Maybe I could send you something to read sometime?
Sure.
You have no idea what that would mean to me.
To have someone like you as my mentor.
Oh, well, mentor.
So, could I call you up sometime in the city?
If I could just spend some time with you,
that would be so cool.
Uh, of course,
uh, I'll... I'll be looking at a very busy summer.
I can help, I'll run errands. I'll do your wash.
No, no, no menial labor necessary.
I'll just... I'll give you my phone number.
Oh, my God, this is so cool.
Oh, thank you.
Oh, I'll take that.
Thank you.
The next day, Miranda woke up early
to enjoy the cool morning breeze and a much needed moment of solitude.
All right, somebody puked on the deck.
Oh, sorry. Stacy and Holly did too many Jell-O shots.
What are you, 25 now?
Good morning.
No, 27!
Whatever.
That week, back in the city, I wondered.
What was the allure of the 20s?
On one hand, there's great skin tone, the thrill of fresh experience,
and the sense of a consequence-free life full of seemingly endless possibilities.
While on the other,
there are horrible apartments, sexually inexperienced men,
and embarrassing errors in fashion judgment.
Should we fear these freshly minted,
single women as a threat to our very survival?
Or pity them as clueless half-wits
about to get their dreams dashed and illusions shattered?
20-something girls...
Friend... or foe?
And that evening, in my first act as a mentor,
I took my young acolyte to a book party.
Ceviche?
Oh, my God.
I can't believe I'm out with Carrie Bradshaw,
this is too cool.
Oh, stop, I can feel my head swelling.
If it gets any bigger, I'm gonna have to say goodbye to my hats.
-I have a question. -Yeah?
Do you think that 25 is too young to write a personal memoir?
Well, as long as it doesn't deal with incest,
Prozac, or partying, no.
Well, it does deal with sex...
Or rather, not having sex.
It's about how girls my age are saving themselves for marriage.
Saving what for marriage?
Our virginity.
Are you seriously telling me that you've never had sex with a man?
That is correct.
Okay, now, what do you consider sex?
Are you implying I'm some kind of Lewinsky?
- No! No-- -I'm not!
I'm talking no blow jobs, no hand jobs.
All right, I get it, no jobs of any kind.
You know what?
I think I need to get a drink.
I'll get it. Cosmopolitan, right?
-Yes. -I remember...
From your column.
A 25-year-old virgin was getting me a Cosmopolitan.
The generation gap had never seemed so wide.
-Hi. -Hi.
Have you actually read the book?
-Uh, no. Have you? -Nope, not yet.
Do you know anything about the author?
Yeah, his family has a history of diabetes
and he has a steel splint in his left femur.
I'm his doctor, Bradley Meego.
Oh! Carrie Bradshaw.
Jeez, my doctor won't even make house calls
let alone attend a book party.
Yeah, I've never been to one before.
I thought it might be interesting.
Now it's just exceeded all my expectations.
Yeah, I know, generally, it's just cheese and crackers.
You never see an actual shrimp.
No, I meant you.
Oh.
You know, I'd ask you out for a drink after,
but I'm driving straight from here to the Hamptons.
Oh, I'm... I'm actually going out to the Hamptons tomorrow.
Well, great. Um, can I call you there?
All right, well, you know what?
I'll be with my friends Saturday at Townline Beach.
A big yellow umbrella.
You can come by and say hello if you'd like.
Is this just a ploy to see me in my bathing suit?
Yeah.
-Here's your Cosmo, miss. -Thank you.
-Hi. -Uh...
Dr. Bradley Meego, this is Laurel.
-Hi. -Hey.
Um, so, what if it rains?
Do we pick another date, or...
Doctor, you are persistent.
All right, in case of emergency only.
Yep, now I'm gonna have to buy the book.
Nice meeting you.
-You, too. - Bye.
Drive safe.
Oh, my God, he is such a fox.
Did you just meet him when I was at the bar?
-Mm-hmm. -Lady, you've got it going on!
That Saturday turned out to be hot and sunny.
While we sat under our umbrella,
20-something girls sizzled on the sand
like rotisserie chickens.
Excuse me, when did tanning come back in style?
Hand me the 45!
Forty-five? Didn't know it went up that high.
You can sit in a microwave and not burn.
It's Charlotte's, but I don't think she's gonna be using it.
It's not good for her 27-year-old image.
She actually put on oil.
Just let her have her fun now.
Come Labor Day, she's gonna look like a 27-year-old handbag.
I'd risk a few precancerous freckles for a summer romance.
And right then, my summer romance made his appearance,
right on schedule.
The yellow umbrellas seem to be very popular this year.
Hey!
Samantha, Miranda, this is Dr. Bradley Meego.
-Hello! - Hi.
Hello, ladies.
So what kind of a doctor are you, Doctor?
Uh, internal medicine.
General, all-purpose kind of thing.
Fabulous! So you can prescribe medication?
What did you have in mind?
Feel free to ignore her.
-I'm sure that's impossible.
Listen, I'm gonna go take a quick dip.
Now, you promise not to ditch me, now.
-I promise. -Okay.
Is that the guy from the book party?
Yeah.
I've got to start reading.
He's cute, I'm just not really sure I'm interested.
Good-looking, polite, house in the Hamptons.
It's good on paper.
-Well, you know the rule. -Huh?
-Good on paper, bad in bed.
A "good on paper guy" is a guy with great credentials,
who you always end up leaving for some hot guy
who rides a motorcycle and doesn't have a checking account.
-I got ya.
Oh, my God!
Ah! The water feels so awesome.
You guys should really go in.
You better put on some sunscreen, Georgette Hamilton.
Oh, that's okay, I never burn.
Well, I do.
In fact, I think I've had enough for today.
I'm gonna go grocery shopping.
You guys want anything?
Oh, we should get some rum.
We can make Long Island Iced Teas.
Oh, yes. I love Long Island Iced Teas.
Excellent!
So I took a leap of faith and made reservations
at one of those impossible-to-get-into restaurants for tonight.
Oh, wow, I'd love to.
I just... I can't abandon my friends.
Well, actually, that wasn't an invitation.
It was just restaurant chit-chat.
Oh, oh.
-I'm kidding. -Oh.
How about after dinner?
I got a great little house.
A cute little porch we can sit on.
Oh, I don't know.
Okay, then, how about if I just call your
"In case of emergency" number this weekend.
The emergency being I think I'm gonna miss you.
Yes, you can definitely do that.
Good.
Romantic, polite,
and his very own house south of the highway.
My "good on paper" guy was jumping right off the page.
Later that afternoon, we came back from the beach
rested, rejuvenated, feeling almost 29 again.
Even Miranda was in good spirits.
Hey, guys, I just got back from the market.
- Yeah? -Fresh corn and seafood for dinner.
-Yummy!
Except, Carrie, your groupie can't stay.
I only got enough for the four of us.
She's here?
Yeah, she was asking too many inane questions.
I sent her up to your room.
Oh, thanks.
-Sorry. -So, I have got to go shower.
I'm all itchy in my bathing suit from the sand.
Uh-huh. Uh-huh.
-And then I'm gonna help ya. -Okay.
Take your time.
Samantha, that came for you.
Oh...
Oh, my God!
What's wrong?
It's for the Hampton's hoedown tomorrow night.
And the event is being run by Nina G Public Relations. Nina G!
Overnight, Samantha's ex-assistant, Nina Grabowski,
had reinvented herself as Nina G.
I was up for that job.
And now she's using my Rolodex to put together the guest list.
While Samantha was getting fucked royally by her protege,
mine was giving me the royal treatment.
It's not that I don't wanna have sex with men,
I just feel like these previous generations of women
have devalued sex to the point where it's not even special anymore.
One summer, when I was 15,
I read everything Jackie Collins ever wrote.
And I thought to myself, "Who cares?"
I mean, is this supposed to be shocking,
wagging one's pussy at every good-looking stud who walks by?
Please.
And, what is it you like about my column?
I have a tiny tick on my stomach, and I can't get it off.
Ew. Does it hurt?
No, but it itches.
Oh, my God, that is not a tick.
Well, well, what is it?
Well, there go our shitty sheets.
Oh, my God, it's so disgusting.
Where's she going?
To the drugstore.
Charlotte really is in her 20s.
She's got crabs.
Oh, my God!
That night, I called Dr. Meego.
I figured it was an emergency.
I just, I have this thing about crabs.
I had them once in college, and the experience scarred me for life.
So, I really... I don't think I can go back to that house
until the mattresses are sanitized and the sheets and towels are burned.
No, I'm... I'm flattered you thought of me.
I'd be happy to prescribe your friend some industrial strength pubicide.
No, that's all right, I think she can take care of herself.
-Here, cheers. - Cheers.
You might have to spend the night here, you know.
I might have to, but only to sleep.
You know, women are always saying that,
and then, as soon as the lights go out,
boom, they're going right for my pajamas.
All righty, I promise, no funny stuff.
That night, we slept together but we didn't sleep together.
It was really nice.
And I believe it was the first instance
of a case of crabs moving a relationship forward.
Every year, one of the local Hamptons billionaires
got down and dirty and threw a big hoedown
full of cowboys and caviar.
It was the event of the season.
We joined Samantha to lend our moral support.
I can't believe it.
There are people here who don't even come to my parties
and they came to Nina's.
Look at her over there.
Beef jerky carpaccio?
I am just so depressed right now.
Excuse me.
Hey, where are you going?
To congratulate Nina.
I may need her to hire me someday.
While Samantha set out to negotiate 20-something detente,
Charlotte prepared to launch a full-out war.
Excuse me.
Right. No way.
Hey!
Do you know that you gave me crabs?
What?
You heard me.
What makes you think it was me?
Oh, that is so tacky.
Yeah, well, so is lying about your age.
You know, I saw your driver's license when you bought the beer last night.
I didn't lie.
You made an assumption, I didn't contradict it.
Whatever.
You know, I may have given you crabs,
but you deceived me.
That is so much worse.
Grow up.
You are a wait person.
That does not mean that you wait, it means that you go!
Nina!
Oh, my God, you actually came.
I just stopped by to wish you good luck.
It's a fabulous party.
That is very cool of you.
Nina, I told you,
I didn't want Martha seated near the hayride.
-She's allergic. -Oh.
Could you please try to keep the young people
out until after 11:00?
Oh. Yeah.
I just wanna tell you, we're all out of country-fried goat cheese,
somebody got stuck with a cactus needle,
and there are people outside with invitations
who are not on the fucking list.
Jesus-fucking-Christ.
You are totally coked out.
You are totally jealous.
What is that? Oh, my God! What is that?
What is that sound? Oh, my God. What?
What is happening?
That is not supposed to happen until midnight.
I know!
This is your problem. Get them to stop!
I can't, they're on a fucking barge!
Oh, my God. Samantha, could you help me?
I need to get everybody outside.
I'm just... I'm totally fucked right now.
Okay, people, fiesta fireworks, outside!
Let's go. Let's go!
-Oh, Nina! -Yeah?
This is Greg.
I think the two of you would really hit it off.
-Hi. -Hi.
I began to realize then
that the biggest threat 20-something girls posed was to themselves.
Hey, Carrie, I've been looking all over for you.
Hey. Look, I got one just like yours.
Oh, wow, that's great.
You want me to get you a Cosmopolitan?
No, no, that's okay, I'm actually, I'm gonna go find my date.
But I'll see you later, okay?
That guy from the bookstore?
-Oh, my God, he was so cute! -Oh.
Annoying, yes, dangerous, no.
They were simply our youthful doppelgangers
who needed our compassion more than anything.
And then everything I so firmly believed was promptly blown to pieces.
-Yeah? -Yeah.
Is it you?
Hey, what are you... what are you doing here?
What am I doing here?
What are you doing here?
I just got back this week from Paris.
Oh, Carrie, this is Natasha.
Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you.
I've heard so much about you.
Oh, really?
Natasha's parents have a house here in East Hampton.
We just came up for the weekend.
Excuse me. It was nice to meet you, Carrie.
I'm sorry, I'm just... a little stunned here...
and confused.
Who is she?
Well, I... you know, I meant to call you.
She's a girl...
She's this girl that I met in Paris.
She works for Ralph Lauren in Europe.
So you're just in from Paris for the weekend?
No.
The Paris deal fell through.
I... I planned on calling you.
I certainly didn't want to run into you like this.
Well, you can't plan everything.
Life can be pretty random.
I'm here on a, on a date, too... somewhere.
It's Dr. Bradley Meego.
He's good on paper, you know, probably like Natasha.
Good-looking, sweet, blah, blah blah.
So how old is she, anyway?
I don't know, 26, 27.
Something like that.
Well, I'll see you in the Hamptons or back in the city.
I promise to call when I get back into town.
Carrie?
Are you okay?
No, I just ran into Big.
He's back from Paris.
He has a new girlfriend.
She's 26.
-Where is he? I didn't see-- -Oh, God.
And then I realized.
20-something girls are just fabulous,
until you see one with the man who broke your heart.