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    Sari or Lehenga: Difference Between the Traditional Indian Garments

    Worn at weddings, festive occasions and most recently on an episode of the “Sex and the City” reboot, these traditional Indian garments are not the same.When the sixth episode of “And Just Like That,” the reboot of “Sex and the City,” aired earlier this month, it garnered a lot of attention from the South Asian community. Named after the Hindu festival Diwali, the episode used the celebration as a plot point and provoked strong reactions to a faux pas that is now being called sari-gate.In one scene, Carrie Bradshaw, played by Sarah Jessica Parker, and Seema Patel, a real estate broker played by the Indian-British actress Sarita Choudhury, are shown buying outfits for a Diwali party at what Ms. Bradshaw calls a “sari shop.” After the episode aired, many viewers pointed out that the store was actually stocked with Indian garments beyond the sari, and that Ms. Bradshaw ultimately bought a lehenga, a three-piece garment worn at Indian weddings and celebrations.In the episode, Seema Patel, who is played by Sarita Choudhury, takes Ms. Bradshaw shopping for a Diwali party at what Ms. Bradshaw calls a “sari shop.” Some viewers noted that the show did not seem to point out the difference between a sari and a lehenga.HBO MaxLater in the episode, Ms. Patel and her mother are seen wearing saris, which consist of an uncut piece of fabric that’s wrapped around the body and draped over a shoulder, along with complimenting blouses. But the script never makes an effort to distinguish between their saris and Ms. Bradshaw’s lehenga, an oversight that disappointed some viewers who were otherwise heartened to see Indian culture and fashion enjoy prime real estate on a mainstream TV show.In an Instagram post shared the day after the episode aired, Imran Amed, the founder and CEO of Business of Fashion said “I think it’s really cool” that Ms. Bradshaw wanted to wear Indian clothes to the Diwali party. “The issue is that there are now millions of people out there who think what Carrie is wearing is a sari,” said Mr. Amed, who lives in London. “It’s not.”The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.What’s in a name, really? In this case, centuries of cultural history.The lehenga (or ghagra) is believed to have emerged in popularity around the 10th century, during the Mughal reign over India, and is more predominant in northern India.“The lehenga set is typically made of three elements — the voluminous floor-length skirt called the lehenga; the blouse or choli, often like a crop top; and a dupatta or stole-like drape,” said Divyak D’Souza, a stylist in Mumbai and the host of the Indian edition of “Say Yes To The Dress,” a reality TV show.Ms. Bradshaw’s much-discussed lehenga is a burgundy skirt and midnight-blue blouse ensemble from the spring-summer 2020 collection of Falguni Shane Peacock, a line founded by husband-and-wife designers Falguni Peacock and Shane Peacock. The ornate ensemble, made at the designers’ atelier in Mumbai, features colorful embroidery and gold thread accents on a jacquard fabric, and also comes with a matching tulle net dupatta that Ms. Bradshaw does not wear in the episode.“The motifs on the lehenga feature architectural domes, inspired by the palaces of Udaipur, Rajasthan,” said Ms. Peacock, whose brand enjoys popularity with several celebrities of the diaspora — its lehengas were also recently worn by Priyanka Chopra Jonas and Mindy Kaling for Diwali celebrations in 2021. Mr. Peacock added that he and his wife approach their lehengas almost like gowns, which also makes them a hit with a younger crowd.The sari is an even older garment. K.H. Radharaman, the creative director of Advaya, a brand that is known for its technical innovations of the sari, said that the drape has a rich history. “The sari is one of the oldest surviving garments in human history, with its origins going back to the Indus Valley civilization.”A sari from Advaya, a brand that is known for its technical innovations of the traditional drape. via Advaya“The nature of our ceremonies has changed, but the sari has stayed constant,” said Mr. Radharaman, who lives in Bengaluru. “It represents centuries of continuity in thought, tying us to our past and its traditions.”Saris, he said, are paired with a stitched blouse and mostly worn by women, though some men also wear them. “The commonly depicted way of wearing one is that it’s wrapped around the waist down in concentric pleats, while the extended part — the pallu or tail piece — is thrown over the left shoulder,” said Mr. Radharaman. More contemporary ways to style a sari include wearing it with a tailored jacket, crisp white shirt or even a cape.In its undiluted form, the sari is a textile that assumes the form of a wearer, which means there are as many ways to drape it as there are communities in India.“Every region has its own sari and corresponding visual design vocabulary, with motifs and techniques whose lineage and origin are steeped in history or mythology,” Mr. Radharaman said. “It is deeply symbolic of the culture of both the wearer and its maker — thus representing different cultural sensibilities in a way few garments around the world can.”Between it and the lehenga, is one more popular or more appropriate for certain occasions than the other? In a country as culturally diverse as India, it’s hard to generalize, as both have been part of Indians’ collective sartorial lexicon for centuries (alongside other garments like anarkalis, kurtas and shararas to name a few). Every community has its own mandate on their preferred silhouette or drape for festivities, though Mr. D’Souza said the lehenga is often a choice when an event calls for more formal dressing.“The sari is common garb for many Indian women even for everyday wear,” he said. “The lehenga, in comparison, tends to be brought out more for festive occasions and weddings; seen on both the bride or the guests.”A lehenga’s “colors and surface ornamentation are often linked to the bride’s cultural context,” added Mr. D’Souza, who noted that not every version is spice-colored or high on bling and floral patterns. “The silhouette has evolved immensely. Many designers are taking a modernist approach; experimenting with traditional weaves, contemporary updates and modern styling.” More

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    Mommy Is Going Away for Awhile

    The antiheroine of the moment, in movies like “The Lost Daughter” and novels like “I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness,” commits the mother’s ultimate sin: abandoning her children.There are so many ways to do motherhood wrong, or so a mother is told. She can be overbearing or remote. She can smother or neglect. She can mother in such a specifically bad way that she is assigned a bad-mom archetype: stage mother, refrigerator mother, “cool mom.” She can hover like a helicopter mom or bully like a bulldozer mom. But the thing she cannot do — the thing that is so taboo it rivals actually murdering her offspring — is leave.The mother who abandons her children haunts our family narratives. She is made into a lurid tabloid figure, an exotic exception to the common deadbeat father. Or she is sketched into the background of a plot, her absence lending a protagonist a propulsive origin story. This figure arouses our ridicule (consider Meryl Streep’s daffy American president in “Don’t Look Up,” who forgets to save her son as she flees the apocalypse) or our pity (see “Parallel Mothers,” where an actress has ditched her daughter for lousy television parts). But lately the vanishing mother has provoked a fresh response: respect.In Maggie Gyllenhaal’s film “The Lost Daughter,” she is Leda (played, across two decades, by Jessie Buckley and Olivia Colman), a promising translator who deserts her young daughters for several years to pursue her career (and a dalliance with an Auden scholar). In HBO’s “Scenes From a Marriage,” a gender-scrambled remake of Ingmar Bergman’s 1973 mini-series, she is Mira (Jessica Chastain), a Boston tech executive who jets to Tel Aviv for an affair disguised as a work project. And in Claire Vaye Watkins’s autofictional novel “I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness,” she is also Claire Vaye Watkins, a novelist who leaves her infant to smoke a ton of weed, sleep with a guy who lives in a van and confront her own troubled upbringing.In each case, her children are not abandoned outright; they are left in the care of fathers and other relatives. When a man leaves in this way, he is unexceptional. When a woman does it, she becomes a monster, or perhaps an antiheroine riding out a dark maternal fantasy. Feminism has supplied women with options, but a choice also represents a foreclosure, and women, because they are people, do not always know what they want. As these protagonists thrash against their own decisions, they also bump up against the limits of that freedom, revealing how women’s choices are rarely socially supported but always thoroughly judged.A mother losing her children is a nightmare. The title of “The Lost Daughter” refers in part to such an incident, when a child disappears at the beach. But a mother leaving her children — that’s a daydream, an imagined but repressed alternate life. In the “Sex and the City” reboot “And Just Like That…,” Miranda — now the mother to a teenager — counsels a professor who is considering having children. “There are so many nights when I would love to be a judge and go home to an empty house,” she says. And on Instagram, the airbrushed mirage of mothering is being challenged by displays of raw desperation. The Not Safe for Mom Group, which surfaces confessions of anonymous mothers, pulses with idle threats of role refusal, like: “I want to be alone!!! I don’t want to make your lunch!!”Being alone: that is the mother’s reasonable and functionally impossible dream. Especially recently, when avenues of escape have been sealed off: schools closed, day care centers suspended, offices shuttered, jobs lost or abandoned in crisis. Now the house is never empty, and also you can never leave. During a pandemic, a plucky middle-class gal can still “have it all,” as long as she can manage job and children simultaneously, from the floor of a lawless living room.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.Cards on the table: I am struggling to draft this essay on my phone as my pantsless toddler — banished from day care for 10 days because someone got Covid — wages a tireless campaign to commandeer my device, hold it to his ear and say hewwo. I feel charmed, annoyed and implicated, as I wonder whether his neediness is attributable to some parental defect, perhaps related to my own constant phone use.Do I want to abandon my child? No, but I am newly attuned to the psychological head space of a woman who does. The Auden scholar of “The Lost Daughter” (played, in an inspired bit of casting, by Gyllenhaal’s husband, Peter Sarsgaard), entices Leda by quoting Simone Weil: “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” Attention is a loaded word: It can mean caring for another person, but also a powerful mental focus, and a parent can seldom execute both definitions at once.Leda wants to attend to her translation work, but she also wants someone to pay attention to her. To be blunt, she wants to work and to have sex. Often in these stories, the two are bound together in a hyper-individualistic fusion of romantic careerism. In “Scenes from a Marriage,” Mira plans to tell her daughter, “I have to go away for work, which is true” — only because she has arranged a professional obligation to facilitate her affair with an Israeli start-up bro. Her gateway drug to abandonment is, as is often the case, a business trip. Mira first strays at a company boat party; Leda tastes freedom at a translation conference; Claire embarks on a reading tour from which she never returns.The work trip is the Rumspringa of motherhood. Like the mama bird in “Are You My Mother?,” a woman is allowed to leave the nest to retrieve a worm, though someone, somewhere may be noting her absence with schoolmarmish disapproval. In Caitlin Flanagan’s 2012 indictment of Joan Didion, recirculated after Didion’s death, Flanagan dings Didion for taking a film job across the country, leaving her 3-year-old daughter over Christmas.Still, there is something absurd about the fashioning of work as the ultimate escape. It is only remotely plausible if our desperate mother enjoys a high-status creative position (translator, novelist, thought leader.) When other mothers of fiction leave, their fantasies are quickly revealed as delusions. In Nicole Dennis-Benn’s novel “Patsy,” a Jamaican secretary abandons her daughter to pursue an American dream in New York, only to become a nanny caring for someone else’s children. And in Jessamine Chan’s dystopian novel “The School for Good Mothers,” Frida is sleep deprived and drowning in work when she leaves her toddler at home alone for two hours. Though Frida feels “a sudden pleasure” when she shuts the door behind her, her fantasy life is short and bleak: She escapes as far as her office, where she sends emails. For that, she is conscripted into a re-education camp for bad moms.Each of our absent mothers has her reasons. Leda’s academic husband has prioritized his career over hers, and this makes her decisions legible, even sympathetic. But in “I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness,” Watkins lends her doppelgänger no exculpatory circumstances. Claire has a doula, day care, Obamacare breast pump, tenure-track job, several therapists and the world’s most understanding husband. When she starts sleeping in a hammock on campus, her husband says: “I think it’s cool you’re following your … heart, or … whatever … is happening … out there.” Nothing obvious impedes her from capable mothering, but ​​like Bartleby, the Child-bearer, she would simply prefer not to.In heaping privileges upon Claire, Watkins suggests that there are burdens of motherhood that cannot be solved with money, lifted by a co-parent or cured by a mental health professional. The trouble is motherhood itself, and its ideal of total selfless devotion. Motherhood had turned Claire into a “blank,” a figure who “didn’t seem to think much” and “had trouble completing her sentences.” As these women discover, their menu of life choices is not so expansive after all. They long to be offered a different position: dad. Claire wants to “behave like a man, a slightly bad one.” As Mira abruptly exits, she assures her husband, “Men do it all the time.”These women may leave, but they don’t quite get away with it. Mira eventually loses both job and boyfriend and begs for her old life back. Leda’s abandonment becomes a dark secret in a thriller that builds to a violent end. Only Claire is curiously impervious to consequence. She follows her selfish impulses all the way to the desert, where she spends her days crying and masturbating alone in a tent. Then she calls her husband, who flies out to her, happy tot in tow; eventually Claire claims a life where she can “read and write and nap and teach and soak and smoke” and see her daughter on breaks. By exacting no cosmic punishment on Claire, Watkins refuses to facilitate the reader’s judgment. But she also makes it harder to care.When I was pregnant, I had a fantasy, too. In it I was single, childless, still very young somehow and living out an alternate life in a van in Wyoming. Reading “I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness” broke the spell. As Claire ripped bongs and circled new sexual partners, she struck me not as a monster or a hero but something perhaps worse — boring. Even as these stories work to uncover motherhood’s complex emotional truths, they indulge their own little fiction: that a mother only becomes interesting when she stops being one. More

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    ‘And Just Like That’ Recap, Episode 7: Back on the Scene

    This week’s episode was a treat for anyone who’s been waiting for the “Sex and the City” revival to feel more like “Sex and the City.”Episode 7Maybe it was just a matter of waiting for a series to hit its stride, or maybe it was the magic of the Carrie necklace, but for anyone who’s been hoping that “And Just Like That …” would feel more like “Sex and the City,” this was your week.In the opening scene of this week’s episode, we find our leading lady, as we’ve seen her so many times before, perched in the window of her walk-up apartment, writing in the glow of her MacBook, a flicker of Y2K Carrie. Days and nights pass, and seasons change, letting us know that a chunk of time has gone by. That fast-forward proves vital because it needs to feel appropriate for Carrie to start dating again — so she can both sell her new book and liven up this show.All that typing has led to “Loved & Lost,” Carrie’s latest memoir, which delves into the death of Big. If that sounds dark and sad, it is, which is the exact issue her editor, Amanda (Ashlie Atkinson), has with the story.“You’re known for writing ‘Sex and the City!’” Amanda tells Carrie, “If we publish this as is, I’m worried your readers are going to pitch themselves out the window clutching their tubs of Häagen-Dazs.” What the story needs, Amanda says, is a “glimmer of hope” that joy is still out there for Carrie.Maybe it’s a coincidence, but it’s a direct parallel to what has been happening with the series. Carrie Bradshaw the writer has an audience, a legacy to uphold. So does Carrie Bradshaw the TV character. Both have longtime fans who expect a certain thing: a fun, pun-filled gal about town whom we can live and love vicariously through.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.Reasonable people could argue that we, the viewing public, just like they, the fictional reading public, need to let Carrie move on and stop demanding that she show up exactly how she used to. But we haven’t been very good at that. The internet has let out a collective sigh that “And Just Like That …” doesn’t have quite the same magic as “Sex and the City,” in part because all of the formerly charismatic single characters are either married off, mourning or masturbating their way through sexual frustration.The antidote to that — for the book and for the series — is some good old-fashioned dating. Amanda tells Carrie to go out with at least one guy so she can whip up an epilogue that gives the whole story a little lift. So she does, and in doing so, we get that lift on our TV screens as well.Seema, who is now occupying Samantha’s chair at the four-top, took it upon herself to sign Carrie up for some dating apps, and late at night, Carrie finds herself swiping. Eventually, she settles on a widower, Peter (Jon Tenney), and later, as they sit down to dinner, they figure out that this is the first date for each of them since their spouses passed. Carrie and Peter order drinks, and the next thing we know, they’re spilling out of the restaurant in a fit of giggles, almost stumbling over each other until they both puke their guts out at the curb.It’s absurd, and not really believable, but it’s fun, and it’s fodder for cocktail talk at Charlotte’s school fund-raiser, where the whole gang (except Steve — we’ll get to him in a minute) gathers to support their friend. Among the items up for grabs at a high-priced auction: a date with a beloved sex columnist, Carrie.The event is M.C.’ed by Herbert and Lisa, whom Charlotte is trying endlessly to impress. Earlier in the episode, she and Harry played tennis with them, and it got so competitive that Charlotte knocked Harry onto the ground in an attempt to win the game, leading to an utterly ridiculous but entirely realistic argument afterward. (Charlotte and Harry win the match, for what it’s worth, but they also kind of lose it when Herbert and Lisa catch them fighting.) As any good marriage counselor will tell you, fights among longtime couples are rarely about the things that initiated them — this one seems to be more about mansplaining, insecurity and society’s expectation that women always apologize.It is also the exact scene we needed to ground Charlotte and Harry’s relationship in anything like reality — we’ve barely seen them look at each other sideways since they walked down the aisle, let alone have an actual spat. Charlotte got so hot, she even dropped an F bomb, something we rarely (if ever?) see her do. I feel more connected to her character now than I have in years.But there is other behind-the-scenes drama at the fund-raiser. Months have gone by since Miranda’s tryst with Che, and her DM to Che has gone unanswered. Inexplicably, Carrie forgot to mention that Che would be performing at the event, so when Che bounds onstage, Miranda is caught off guard. She had tried in an early scene to revive her physical chemistry with Steve, but it collapsed into anxieties over lube and leftovers. (She apparently has a thing for sex in kitchens.) As she later told Carrie, she feels doomed to live like a sexual zombie for the rest of her life.That is, until she runs into Che again. She had all but given up on Che, but now she can’t resist the urge to reconnect. She is at the party stag, so there’s opportunity. Steve’s absence goes unaddressed — it seems as if the two simply don’t hang out often.Miranda tries to be stoic, feigning apathy that Che didn’t return her message — or, apparently, her feelings — but all that falls apart when Che proposes that they spend the night together. The two fall right into bed, and Miranda seems not to give Steve a second thought.“I’m in love with you,” Miranda tells Che as she bathes in the afterglow. “You’re in love with you, with me,” Che replies.That might be true. It also might be an incredibly kind way for Che to let Miranda know that she shouldn’t walk away from her marriage to pursue some happily ever after with Che — because Che doesn’t really do that whole scene.We’ll see. In any case, it’s hard to imagine seeing Miranda resign herself once again to her living-dead marriage.As for Carrie, there’s a sign of life. Peter shows up to the school benefit as well (apparently this party is the place to be in New York!) and ends up placing the winning bid on another date with Carrie.To be honest, I don’t really see it with Carrie and Peter — at least not yet. He reminds me of the “good on paper” guy Carrie dated years ago in the Hamptons, whom she wasn’t really into. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for Carrie’s finding love again, but before she moves on for good, I would first like to know whether Aidan is still married. I’m guessing many of you do, too.Things I Can’t Stop Thinking About:Are we even rooting for Nya to have a baby? Because it doesn’t seem like that’s what she really wants. Which is fine! Neither did Samantha or Carrie or even Miranda, at first. At this point, she seems to be pursuing a pregnancy mostly to make her kind and devoted husband happy, but it’s 2022, and we all know that’s simply not a good enough reason.Seeing Steve kindly and considerately wash his hands in the kitchen before the act touched my heart and made me preemptively sad for him that he’s probably about to lose it all.Of course no one is going to bid on a date (even a lunch date) with anybody (let alone a “sex writer”) at a private-school fund-raiser attended by a slew of Gen X parents. Why did Carrie agree to this?OK Che, we get it, you smoke a lot of weed. You smoke so much weed you can’t keep your DMs straight. You smoke so much weed that it’s step one in your sex routine. We hear you. You smoke a lot of weed. More

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    Middle Age Doesn’t Happen ‘Just Like That’

    Why is the “Sex and the City” reboot populated by adults who seem perplexed by everything from politics to their own bodies?Have you heard? There’s a TV show featuring 50-somethings on HBO, right now. “And Just Like That,” the reboot of “Sex and the City,” has resurrected the old gang (Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte — minus Samantha) in present-day New York City, 17 years after the last episode aired. Yes, it turns out that people — even women-people — can actually keep existing beyond the age of 38. Incredible!Or at least that appears to be the perspective of AJLT, which depicts a world of middle-aged characters suspended in perpetual astonishment and discomfort about everything they encounter, from commonplace political and social phenomena to their own bodies. (Warning: spoilers ahead.)“It’s as if its characters must have been asleep for 20 years and awakened utterly gob-smacked to find themselves encountering such things as Black professors, nonbinary children and queer longings,” said Joy Castro, 54, a writer and professor of English and ethnic studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.The characters do seem Rip Van Winkle-like, as they stumble upon and blink in amazement at very unsurprising things. “Wow! Instagram? Podcasts?” marvels Miranda at some of Carrie’s latest endeavors, as if these were edgy new enterprises.Some of the “Van Winkle-iest” moments involve Miranda’s foot-in-mouth disease when interacting with Nya Wallace, the Black professor in her new human rights law graduate program. Charlotte, too, evinces a weird awkwardness as she cultivates a new friendship with the glamorous Lisa Todd Wexley, a wealthy, stylish Black woman she meets through her daughters’ private school.Sarah Jessica Parker as a podcasting Carrie Bradshaw.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO Max“The show now is trying to be woke without succeeding,” said Cheryl Packwood, 60, an attorney and retired diplomat. “I never liked the show to begin with; it was just so white and shallow. It’s not at 55 that you suddenly try so hard to have a Black friend.”But beyond the external factors of race and politics, the protagonists seem most ill at ease with their own bodies and ages, which they refer to frequently, unnaturally and, often, loudly.Examples abound:Over brunch, a discussion about Miranda’s decision to go gray devolves into a barbed exchange about the ethics of hair color. For Miranda, Carrie’s trademark blond highlights pass muster since they are “obvious” — clearly artificial, hence not trying to deceive anyone. But Charlotte’s preference to maintain a more natural brown does not meet Miranda’s ethical standards.Charlotte is “trying to pass” as younger, says Miranda with disapproval. “There are more important issues in the world than trying to look young,” she scolds. Women do talk about hair and aging, but they generally do not turn salon choices into grounds for moral condemnation over omelets.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.Stuck waiting in a long ladies’ room line in a theater, Miranda blurts out loudly before a crowd: “I’m 55 and I have to pee,” before heading to the (empty) men’s room. Props to her for feeling free enough to step out of the ladies’ room line. But no midlife people I know think about and announce their own ages like this, as if they’d only just learned how old they were.Miranda Hobbes, right, mid-awkward encounter with her professor, Nya Wallace.Craig Blankenhorn / HBO MaxThe display of age-shock often feels cheap and a little undignified. In another bathroom scene, Charlotte’s husband, Harry, stands at the commode, urinating for an inordinately long (and loud) interlude. When Charlotte expresses dismay, Harry extols his urological health, invoking his own advanced years: “A lotta men my age can’t pull off a stream like this.” We are further reminded of Harry’s age (and excretory systems) when Charlotte loudly books his colonoscopy appointment over her cellphone — in a cafe, and mentions it several more times later.It’s true that people over 50 get colonoscopies, and you could even mine this for some meaningful comedy or human drama. But merely name-checking “colonoscopy” as if it were itself a punchline turns it into another item on a laundry list of clichéd “middle-aged woes.”Continuing the potty humor, after Carrie’s hip surgery (which offers occasion for much more “old lady” and “senior citizen” commentary), an extended sequence involves Charlotte awkwardly maneuvering her on and off a hospital toilet and monitoring Carrie’s urine flow.That scene cuts directly to a discussion between Miranda and her new love interest, the nonbinary Che (Carrie’s podcast boss) about the latter’s diverticulosis. (Even Che, hipper and a decade younger than the others, is not exempted from plumbing problems.)Rather than illuminate the texture and richness of midlife, AJLT seems intent upon merely pointing at it from a noncomprehending, slightly mocking distance. And for a show that built its reputation on the frank discussion of physical taboos, why is there no mention of the universal challenges of menopause — or its male counterpart, andropause?Sarah Jessica Parker and Cynthia Nixon.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO MaxOne of the highlights of SATC was the characters’ longstanding friendship, their deep bonds and history. This could easily provide a wealth of material for the remake, and at times it does — as in scenes where Miranda lovingly comforts a grief-stricken Carrie.At other times, though, the peculiar “age-othering” impedes more natural exchanges. When Miranda spots Carrie seated outdoors on the Columbia campus, for example, she calls out: “I see you! You’re the only 55-year-old on the university steps!” — an odd, age-fetishizing way to describe your best friend of decades. (Also, universities have plenty of older people.)When Harry greets Miranda’s husband Steve with “What’s new?” the once-boyish and playful bartender, now sort of blank and inexpressive, can only come up with: “I got hearing aids. I’m an old timer now.” Miranda then helpfully chimes in with specific medical details.Old friends do not greet each other like this. And while middle-aged men often experience hearing loss, they tend not to announce this fact before saying “hello” or to define themselves with this physical ailment.Overall, such interactions offer a cartoonish view of middle-age, which pushes it all the way to old age (and a stereotypical view of that as well). “The show depicts 50-something people as if they were actually old already, not middle-aged,” said Jamy Buchanan Madeja, 60, an environmental law practitioner and adjunct professor at Northeastern University School of Law.The series does try to grapple with the many issues of getting older: loss, death, strained marriages, changing sexual appetites and an unease with new social mores. This aspect of AJLT can be highly relatable: “I do identify with the questioning around what you need from a long-term relationship,” said Jennifer Brinkman, chief of staff to the mayor of Lincoln, Neb. “I myself am going through a divorce at age 50.”And, she added: “I have definitely experienced awkward moments, like those of Miranda and Charlotte, that reveal how I don’t have the ease of language my children and co-workers have related to our society’s evolving gender and sexuality spectrum. But I want to!”From left, Cathy Ang, Kristin Davis and Alexa Swinton. Charlotte Goldenblatt is navigating her child’s gender identity issues in the SATC reboot.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO Max, via Associated PressYet so much more could be done with this group of older best friends and their beloved hometown. “Sex and the City” resonated with audiences because, whatever its flaws, it valued and found delectation in women’s adventurous spirit — whether channeled into the thrills of love and sex, friendship, fashion and beauty, or the sheer pleasure of New York City itself. AJLT could easily find age-adapted equivalents of these for the group to enjoy.There are real benefits that attend this stage of life: enhanced self-confidence; knowing your own mind; the soul-nourishing connection and, yes, uproarious fun and laughter to be found in relationships (with friends, lovers, family) that have deepened with time. Midlife can also be prime years for professional success and achievement.But in the first several episodes, AJLT shows vanishingly few of these perks, focusing instead on the characters’ decline, confusion and cultural estrangement. And very little seems to remain of any of the group’s careers.What’s more, for all the focus on growing physically old, the show’s protagonists often behave with curious immaturity. Many viewers have been perplexed, for example, by Carrie’s reaction upon discovering Big slumped over, but still conscious, after his heart attack. Rather than call the paramedics or fetch his medication, Carrie falls to the floor, half-smothering Big with her hair.As Ms. Castro said: “If one finds one’s husband collapsed but still alive, does one not call 911 immediately? Carrie’s behavior was so baffling to me.” Baffling, and weirdly passive and ineffectual — almost like a child’s. Charlotte, too, seems less than adult, crying so theatrically while helping plan Big’s funeral that Carrie sends her home in a taxi.“One still hopes, even on television, that women with a certain influence would be playing a more powerful role in their own circumstances. I can’t imagine the same stagnation for men,” said Hollis Robbins, 58, the dean of arts and humanities at Sonoma State University.Sara Ramirez, as Che, and Cynthia Nixon.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO MaxAnd why does Miranda choose to launch her new erotic relationship with Che — orgasming at the top of her lungs — in Carrie’s kitchen, with Carrie in the next room? Isn’t loud, thoughtless sex within earshot of others precisely what her teen son Brady is guilty of? (And what about Miranda’s historic disapproval of adultery, back when husband Steve was the offending party?) It all feels discordantly adolescent.Stagnation in time is actually a core problem in AJLT. When Carrie finds herself too upset to stay in her empty home after Big’s death, she decamps to her former apartment, which she leaves the next morning dressed in something likely unearthed in her old closet: a floor-length white tulle tutu. Devotees of SATC will find this skirt familiar — it resembles very closely the one Carrie wore in the original SATC series finale, when Big follows her to Paris to commit to her, finally.A big, poofy white tutu is the antithesis of widow’s weeds. It visually resituates our heroine back in her glory days. (She wore a shorter white tutu in the original show’s opening credits.) We understand why Carrie might want to wear it now, as a sartorial antidote to the loss of Big. At the same time, though, the tutu looks a bit “off” on her — age-inappropriate and out of fashion. We see people staring at it on the street.Carrie Bradshaw is back in a tutu.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO MaxIt feels as though the show’s creators are still grasping for ways to develop their now-older characters in believable, interesting ways — to “dress” them appropriately for their time and place. And so, like Carrie in her throwback tutu, they wind up reminding us all too starkly of the passage of time, in an incongruous, off-kilter way.Given that the last images we have of this gang date back to 2004, rediscovering them after 17 years would always have brought an initial pang of rueful surprise. It’s natural to feel a little startled or uncomfortable running into a friend you haven’t seen in decades.But it is not natural to feel this kind of shock or discomfort about oneself, one’s environment and the people one sees every day — and to keep feeling it over and over. Because there is nothing shocking about being over 50, or being any age really, since one has necessarily already passed through all the preceding ages. Aging is just another word for “living,” after all — and we all do it in tiny increments, day by day. If only the characters in AJLT were given the same possibility. More

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    ‘And Just Like That’ Recap, Episode 4: New Friends

    Charlotte wants to change L.T.W. from a mom friend into a real friend. Carrie and Miranda nurture new connections.If Miranda was the white lady buffoon in Episode 1, it is Charlotte’s turn in Episode 4.Despite being a classic “‘Rules’ girl” and a master of playing hard-to-get (“I invented that game,” she once declared in the original “Sex and the City”), all that self-discipline Charlotte once reserved to pique men’s interest goes out the window when Lisa Todd Wexley says she is free for dinner on Thursday night — just two days away. Charlotte drops everything, even canceling Harry’s colonoscopy for the next morning, to throw an impromptu dinner party at her house.(Can’t Harry just book his own colonoscopy?)Charlotte desperately wants to morph L.T.W. from a mom friend into a real friend — a distinction actual moms, like me, will relate to. But it occurs to Charlotte that at the soiree she’s about to host, L.T.W. and her husband, Herbert (Christopher Jackson), will be the only Black people in attendance.Horrified that it will appear as if she and Harry have no Black friends (they don’t), she makes it her mission to recruit at least one fringe friend of color to invite. Just as she gets a bite from a fellow P.T.O. mom, L.T.W. abruptly backs out.But she and Harry still attend Herbert’s birthday party at L.T.W.’s house, and in a twist, they’re the sole white couple there. Charlotte has come prepared, having forced a cram session about contemporary Black authors on herself and Harry. It’s all for naught, though, when Charlotte walks in and immediately mistakes one of L.T.W.’s guests for a different Black woman they both know.It turns out, however, that Charlotte didn’t really need to study. When Herbert’s mother, Eunice Wexley (Pat Bowie), takes jabs at the seemingly frivolous art collection L.T.W. has amassed, Charlotte defends her, calling out the notable Black artists by name and talking up the importance of each work hanging on the wall — to the delight of L.T.W., who relishes taking her mother-in-law down a peg.Somewhere during these awkward scenes, Charlotte remembers who she is. She’s far more than the demure wife and mom she has been made out to be since she quit gallery life in the original “Sex and the City.” She’s highly educated and cultured, and she knows art impressively well. All she really had to do at that dinner party was be herself.I hope to see more of this multidimensional version of Charlotte as the series progresses, especially because she hasn’t been given a substantive story line since her struggles with infertility — a topic that comes up over dinner between Miranda and her law professor, Nya.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.Amid the bustle of a hip, crowded restaurant, Nya surprises herself (“Maybe it’s the hormones,” she quips) by telling Miranda that she’s undergoing her second round of in vitro fertilization, but that’s not her biggest revelation. She also says that when her first attempt failed, she felt a deep sense of relief. It’s a fair assumption that anyone going through the effort of fertility treatments must very much want a baby, but Nya isn’t so sure. She likes her life as it is and asks Miranda to confirm that motherhood is worth it. Miranda can’t quite make that promise.What unfolds between them is one of the more astute conversations about the plight of modern womanhood that I’ve seen on TV, maybe ever. Pushing beyond the trite topic of whether working mothers can “have it all,” the two characters grapple with the hard truth that no matter what kind of life is chosen, there are always roads not taken, and probably some level of regret. Reaching the pinnacle of your career doesn’t erase that, nor does having children. Despite coming from two rather different worlds, Miranda and Nya connect on this, and they move from acquaintances to confidantes.All the while, Carrie (whose real name is apparently Caroline! Who knew?) is wrapped up in selling the apartment she shared with Big. She taps the hotshot real-estate agent Seema Patel (Sarita Choudhury) who waltzes in and immediately replaces the colorful character Carrie has woven into the home’s décor with boring beige. Seema must erase anything that feels too much like the current owners, she explains, so that buyers can see themselves in the space.“It’s like we never lived here. Our life is just … gone.” Carrie tells Miranda over the phone, dejected.Oddly, that’s exactly why Carrie feels good when she’s around Seema. Seema never knew Big, so Carrie can tuck away the sad stuff when she is with her and simply enjoy the moment.That is until Seema accidentally breaks the frame that holds an old photo of Carrie and Big.Seema is ready to replace it, not thinking the broken glass is much of an issue, but Carrie is heartbroken. That frame was on Big’s side of the bed, she explains. He touched that glass over and over, and now one of the final connections she had to her late husband is in pieces.Seema sees she’s being insensitive, but in a slightly contrived fit of whataboutism, she brings up a recent moment when she felt Carrie had done the same. When Carrie commended Seema for “still putting herself out there” in the dating world, it stung. Seema has never really found love, and Carrie unwittingly rubbed that in. What’s more, Seema doesn’t feel all that bad for Carrie, she says, because at least Big was the love of her life, and she had him for years.Carrie is taken aback. Is Seema right? Is it actually better to have loved and lost?In a sense, we could all be asking ourselves the same question about Big.In recent days, two women have accused Chris Noth of sexual assault, as detailed by The Hollywood Reporter. Noth, who was enjoying some reupped fame from this reboot, as well as a viral Peleton ad — itself a response to some ill-advised product placement in Episode 1 and since taken down — has denied the accusations.I was never a fan of Mr. Big. Maybe he conjured up too many personal ghosts, and I wanted Carrie to see through that kind of whiplash-inducing lover faster than I had. Plenty of viewers adored his mystique, and if you were in that camp, or you at least loved the love they shared, that’s almost certainly tainted — it’s nearly impossible now to separate Big’s sleazier tendencies from this troubling new context.As for me, I thought Big deserved the boot long ago. I’m not sorry I don’t have to see his face, or Noth’s, on my screen anymore.Carrie may never see things that way, though, so a new beginning with new people may be just what she needs. As she and Seema exchange apologies and dig into takeout sushi, the agent-client relationship begins to dissipate and a genuine friendship starts to blossom.In case it isn’t abundantly clear, that’s the theme of this episode: Each main character advances her friendship with her new pal (over dinner, in each case, to really tie it all together). The producers promised these new characters would be layered and do more than simply serve as window dressing for the returning leads. This episode seems to be a bridge to those new story lines that will, I hope, continue to deepen.The show must go on without one more of its recurring characters, though, and that is Stanford, because the actor Willie Garson died in September while the series was filming. The disappearance of Carrie’s steadfast friend is accounted for when she opens a melodramatic letter from him explaining that he has jaunted off to Japan on tour with the TikTok cash cow he manages. Anthony got a letter as well, except in his, Stanford asks for a divorce.Stanford always had a catty side, which was one of his more endearing traits, but it is hard to imagine he would have Dear John’d both Carrie and Anthony in such a hardhearted way. Perhaps the writers didn’t want us dwelling in sadness over the loss of Garson, but it’s hard not to feel like we never knew Stanford at all. The Stanny we knew would have at least wanted to share one last cigarette with Carrie.Oh yeah, she’s smoking again. More

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    ‘And Just Like That’ Recap, Episode 3: A Week of Discovery

    Miranda ponders new directions while Carrie is drawn back into the orbit of an old rival.Season 1, Episode 3: ‘When in Rome’It turns out Miranda doesn’t need red hair to be spicy.If you picked up on a bit of flirtation between her and Che right after their decidedly uncute meet in Episode 2, you might have been onto something. At the very end of Episode 3, after she, Carrie and Charlotte take in the live comedy set Che is recording for Netflix, Miranda fibs to her pals that she’s headed home but instead sneaks back in to see her new friend at the after party.Showing a bit of nerves, Miranda is a chatterbox and can’t keep herself from fawning over Che, who tells her to breathe. Oh, Miranda breathes. In a sexy, showstopping move, Che shotguns a drag of weed smoke into Miranda’s mouth, nearly kissing her, and quite possibly shaking her to the core.How did we get here?Well, Miranda told us long ago, in the original “Sex and the City” series, that her husband Steve Brady (David Eigenberg) isn’t a “core-shaker.” He and Miranda were more congenial than amorous, and in “And Just Like That,” this still seems to be the case.Miranda and Steve haven’t had sex in years, she reveals to Charlotte over coffee, somewhat casually. She wonders if they’re even still a couple, or just “roommates with ice cream and a kid.”Che’s act offers an exciting counterpoint to such humdrum domesticity. It is a raucous, LGBTQ+-centered party filled with jokes that feel more like rallying cries, with the comedian telling the crowd that confusion is a good thing — a notion Miranda realizes she relates to — and that if there’s something they don’t like, whether it’s their shirt or maybe even their identity, they can change it. Could Miranda be ready to upset her settled life in favor of a personal revolution? And if so, might it alleviate the need she feels to carry mini bottles of vodka around in her backpack?The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.The wisdom layered within Che’s rowdy, raunchy set isn’t lost on Charlotte either, who takes mental notes between chuckles on how the message relates to her own life. Rose, her youngest, has just confessed that she doesn’t always feel like a girl. Charlotte isn’t quite sure how seriously to take this at first, nor is her best friend Anthony, who basically tells her to ignore it.But during Che’s show, the vibe of acceptance and self-love pulsing through the crowd encourages Charlotte to follow her instincts and ensure that Rose feels supported. She calls Rose after the performance just to say “I love you.” Like a typical teen, Rose just wants to go back to playing Mario Kart.For Carrie, Che’s event is mostly an escape from a week otherwise filled with heartache and humiliation. Natasha Naginsky (Bridget Moynahan), a.k.a. the “idiot stick figure with no soul,” reappears and, to my own personal delight, so then does nutty, neurotic Carrie.Early on in the episode, in the reading of Big’s will, Carrie finds out that her late husband has left a cool million to Natasha, his ex-wife. Carrie can’t help but wonder — no, completely obsess over — why.Carrie spirals (classic Carrie) and becomes convinced that Big and Natasha were still in touch before his death — perhaps they even were having an affair.She roots through her and Big’s apartment for clues and is taunted by a photo she finds in his wallet of Gogi, an old dog she never knew about. What else doesn’t she know? It’s an urgent question that seems to have only one answer: that Natasha was really the love of Big’s life, and he regretted choosing Carrie over her.Despite Miranda and Charlotte’s reassurances, Carrie has to hear from the woman herself whether this is true. She emails Natasha but gets stonewalled. She messages her on Instagram but gets blocked. So Carrie concludes that the logical next step is to show up unannounced at Natasha’s office.In a demoralizing sequence of events, Natasha’s assistant lies to Carrie’s face, saying Natasha is in Rome as a means of shooing her out of the lobby, only for Carrie to see Natasha moments later in her office window. Worse, Natasha sees Carrie on the sidewalk, pointing up at her like a deranged stalker. As if that weren’t mortifying enough, a few days later Carrie walks in on Natasha using the bathroom at a coffee shop.They are both so startled that Carrie spills her hot drink and badly burns her hand. Despite not wanting to engage with Carrie, Natasha takes pity on her in a scene that harkens back to the moment in the original series when she caught Carrie sneaking out of her and Big’s marital abode.During that scene, Natasha injures herself, and Carrie takes care of her. Now it is Carrie who needs the first-aid, and Natasha owes her one. She gives Carrie ice and some desperately needed closure, telling her that she and Big haven’t been in contact since their divorce. Natasha has no idea why he would leave her money, and she doesn’t want it. There was no affair, and no love lingering between her and her ex-husband.Carrie reasons that the gift was probably Big’s way of apologizing to Natasha, something Carrie feels compelled to do as well. They part ways cordially with a promise not to bother each other on social media.Big not alerting his wife to the loaded line item in his will was wildly inconsiderate, which happens to be his signature trait. Even from beyond the grave, he still has the power to knock Carrie off balance and worse, make her feel like she isn’t enough.Which is to say that Big is still classic Big, even when he’s dead. More

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    Chris Noth Peloton Ad Pulled After Sexual Assault Allegations

    The online ad, a response to the “Sex and the City” reboot, was removed after The Hollywood Reporter published an article in which two women accused the actor of sexual assault.Peloton pulled down a popular online ad featuring the actor Chris Noth on Thursday after The Hollywood Reporter published an article in which two women accused him of sexual assault.The article detailed the accusations of two women, identified with pseudonyms, who claimed Noth — who played Mr. Big on “Sex and the City” and stars in its new reboot — sexually assaulted them in separate incidents in 2004 and 2015. In a statement, Noth called their accusations “categorically false.”After the allegations surfaced, Peloton, the stationary-bike maker, removed a widely viewed online ad featuring Noth. It had quickly put up the ad after the first episode of the “Sex and the City” reboot — the HBO Max limited series, “And Just Like That” — depicted Mr. Big dying of a heart attack after riding a Peloton bike.“Every single sexual assault accusation must be taken seriously,” Peloton said in a statement. “We were unaware of these allegations when we featured Chris Noth in our response to HBO’s reboot.”One woman told The Hollywood Reporter that Noth, 67, raped her in 2004, when she was 22, after inviting her to his apartment building’s pool in West Hollywood; the woman said that after the assault, a friend took her to the hospital, where she received stitches. Another woman said he assaulted her in 2015, when she was 25, after a date in New York City.“The encounters were consensual,” he said in the statement. “It’s difficult not to question the timing of these stories coming out. I don’t know for certain why they are surfacing now, but I do know this: I did not assault these women.”Noth, who also had roles in “Law & Order” and “The Good Wife,” is best known for his role as Mr. Big, the central love interest and eventual husband of Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) in “Sex and the City.” His death in the reboot shocked fans and set social media ablaze. Peloton’s stock dropped the day after the episode became available.Three days after the episode debuted, Peloton tried to make the most of the ill-fated product placement by releasing the parody ad, which features Noth lounging with his Peloton instructor, extolling the health benefits of the exercise machine while he flirted with her. In the clip, Mr. Noth suggestively raises an eyebrow, seemingly glancing back toward the bedroom, and asks, “Shall we take another ride? Life’s too short not to.”Then, after the sexual assault allegations surfaced, Peloton’s post on Twitter that included the video disappeared. In a statement, the company said it had archived social media posts related to the video and stopped promoting it while it sought to “learn more” about the allegations.HBO declined to comment. More

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    Can Peloton Sue Over Its ‘And Just Like That’ Appearance?

    A Peloton stationary bike played a pivotal role on the new HBO Max “Sex and the City” revival, whose premiere preceded a drop in the company’s stock price on Friday.This article contains spoilers for the premiere of “And Just Like That” on HBO Max.Peloton, a maker of high-end exercise equipment, was just as surprised as you were by its appearance on “And Just Like That,” the new HBO Max limited series that picks up the story of “Sex and the City.”At the end of the first episode, Mr. Big (Chris Noth), the on-again-off-again love interest of Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), clips into his Peloton stationary bike for his 1,000th ride. Shortly after he hops off the bike, he has a heart attack and dies.After the shocking ending, we couldn’t help but wonder: Are companies usually in the dark about how their products will be used in a movie or TV show, as Peloton reportedly was? What does the typical product-placement agreement look like? And if a company is particularly upset with how its product is portrayed, does it have any legal recourse?So, can Peloton sue?According to Nancy C. Prager, an intellectual property and entertainment lawyer, there are two types of product-placement agreements: one in which a company pays to be featured in show or movie, and another in which a production company procures a trademarked product to be used onscreen.Peloton declined to state on the record whether it was involved in any formal product-placement agreement, but if a production company wants to use a trademarked product, Ms. Prager said, it must get a special license to show the product and brand logos. (In the episode, the Peloton logo is clearly visible on Mr. Big’s bike, and the instructor video closely resembled a real Peloton course.)Ms. Prager explained that under trademark law, a principle known as nominative fair use allows production companies to use a trademark as long as the product is shown being used in a way consistent with the original trademark.“Nominative fair use does not to apply, though, when you use the protected mark in a way that disparages the mark or the brand,” Ms. Prager said. HBO “tarnished Peloton’s good will to consumers,” she added, noting that Peloton products purport to make their customers stronger and healthier.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.“The tarnish can be evidenced by the stock price plummeting,” she added, referring to the 11 percent drop in Peloton stock overnight after the episode aired. The stock’s value continued to fall on Friday.In Ms. Prager’s view, that means Peloton could reasonably consider litigation, especially if HBO did not disclose the story line involving the product.“It was a misstep that Peloton wasn’t fully aware of the script,” said Stacy Jones, the chief executive and founder of Hollywood Branded, a marketing and branding agency in Los Angeles.Peloton did not know how the bike or its instructor Jess King would be featured in the show, according to a report in BuzzFeed News. Ms. Prager and Ms. Jones agree that withholding those details leaves HBO in murky legal territory.“The production forgot that product placement is supposed to be mutually beneficial, and they did not put their thinking cap on about the damage that this would cause the brand,” Ms. Jones said.This seems like a lot of trouble. Why bother with product placement?“Think of product placement as an alternative form of advertising,” David Schweidel, a professor of marketing at Emory University Goizueta Business School, said on Friday.In recent years, companies have been seeking out product-placement agreements more than ever, he said. The increased use of streaming platforms means viewers are seeing fewer commercials, driving companies to make greater use of product-placement deals to promote themselves.“If I can’t reach my customer base with a traditional television commercial anymore, I take the product in the program itself,” Professor Schweidel said. “Then, they can’t avoid it.”He estimated that product-placement advertising was worth well over $20 billion in 2021.For production companies, the arrangements can be mutually beneficial, since featuring recognizable brands can make a show more realistic, Ms. Jones said.In this particular case, the inclusion of Peloton was integral to advancing a story line. “Peloton provided a solution to their problem,” she said.Can HBO protect itself?Usually when a company is so unhappy with how its product has been portrayed that the idea of litigation is floated, “TV shows claim that it’s a parody, that viewers obviously knew that this was fictional,” Beth L. Fossen, an assistant professor of marketing at the Kelley School of Business at Indiana University, said on Friday.That approach usually works for shows like “Saturday Night Live,” she said.But given that Peloton was the subject of unfavorable headlines this year about a child dying in an accident involving one of its treadmills, the story line may have “hit a little too close to home” for that argument to work, Professor Schweidel said.At least for the time being, it seems that Peloton is uninterested in pursuing litigation. In a statement on Saturday, Dr. Suzanne Steinbaum, a cardiologist on Peloton’s health and wellness advisory council, noted that “Mr. Big lived what many would call an extravagant lifestyle — including cocktails, cigars and big steaks — and was at serious risk as he had a previous cardiac event in Season 6.”Dr. Steinbaum said that Mr. Big’s lifestyle choices, perhaps in conjunction with a family history of heart disease, were most likely the cause of his death.In fact, she speculated, “riding his Peloton bike may have even helped delay his cardiac event.” More