I couldn’t help but wonder, if your love life is in shambles, can a great outfit still hold you together? Carrie Bradshaw may no longer be penning her sex column, but her wardrobe remains a series of essays on chaos, hope, and unapologetic glam. One minute she’s scattering Big’s ashes in Paris in Valentino; the next, she’s on date in a pigeon clutch and mint-green ruffles. Therapy? Maybe. Style? Always.
And Just Like That… currently streaming on JioHotstar may have confused the hell out of us, but one thing’s consistent: fashion is still the main character. In a show that often struggles to keep its emotional arcs coherent, the clothes speak louder than the dialogue ever could. From Carrie’s towering tulle and bejewelled bags to Seema’s power-coats and Lisa’s couture-level daywear, it’s the wardrobe that carries the emotional weight.
Every look donned by Carrie look is akin to a diary entry, a dramatic flourish in a show that no longer leans on plot so much as it does on the poetry of personal style. She’s always been more metaphor than human anyway and her clothes are where the metaphor lives. Existential crisis? Time for a Simone Rocha floral fantasy. Nervous first date? Let’s throw on some vintage Gucci and a mint-green blouse that says “I’m fine” in italicised denial.
Even as the characters shift and stumble into old age in this Sex and The City Reboot (and strangely Gen-Z-adjacent dialogue), the fashion has remained the show's most consistent and emotionally intelligent storytelling device. Carrie’s wardrobe in particular has grown with her, though it still carries the same wild energy that once led her to wear a belt over her bare waist.
In the season 3 premiere alone, she debuts that Simone Rocha blush-pink dress, first teased in pap shots months ago and makes it feel like a return to form. Paired with a matching coat sprouting 3D flowers and nude Aquazzura sandals, it's an ode to love, chaos, and impracticality all at once.
Then there’s the moment she steps out in a gingham hat the size of a solar panel, designed by Maryam Keyhani, worn with a multi-coloured Ossie Clark dress and Dr. Scholl’s sliders. It’s absurd. It’s perfect. It’s her. There’s a mint-green vintage Yves Saint Laurent blouse. A flippy pink Gucci skirt. A bejewelled Gucci clutch. Together, they paint a portrait of a woman who might not know what she’s doing, but by god, she’ll do it looking like a walking editorial spread.
Charlotte, ever the perfectionist, remains the visual anchor of uptown neurosis. In a scene where most would reach for athleisure, she wears white heels to walk the dog, a Valextra Iside bag swinging by her side. Elsewhere, she shows off her return to the art world in crisp white suiting, pearls, and a pair of pumps that say “don’t mistake me for soft.”
Miranda’s style journey is as jagged as her character arc, but in a way, that works. She’s experimenting, flailing, trying. The awkward layering, the oversized silhouettes, the unflattering earth tones—they’re the equivalent of emotional honesty in fabric form. When she dons a belted khaki suit in LA, it’s not sexy or sleek, but it feels real.
Lisa Todd Wexley, meanwhile, is operating at a level of fashion sophistication most costume departments only dream of. In episode one of season three, she dons a geometric-patterned Badgley Mischka sheath dress with a raffia ball necklace that could probably win a CFDA award on its own. Every time she enters a room, the energy shifts—and the fashion follows.
Seema, played with elegant steel by Sarita Choudhury, is the show's quiet luxury queen. She’s the one who makes you pause and ask, “Wait… was that gold lamé?” She doesn’t need to shout. Her wrap dresses, tailored trousers, and leopard-print heels do all the talking.
Even off-camera, the fashion keeps the narrative alive. Sarah Jessica Parker has been spotted reshooting scenes in vintage Vivienne Westwood, styled with Taller Marmo coats, denim skirts, and knitted wraps that add layers—literally and metaphorically. She and Kristin Davis have served off-duty coordination in Patrick McDowell, Aquazzura, Prada and Emilia Wickstead. These moments matter. Because even when the show doesn’t always know where it’s going, the wardrobe always knows where Carrie’s been—and where she refuses to go without a great pair of heels.
So yes, maybe the writing has its ups and downs. But if you're watching And Just Like That… for logic, you’re doing it wrong. Watch it for the tulle. Watch it for the Vivienne Westwood gowns. Watch it because fashion—not Big, not Aidan, not even the friends—is the true love of Carrie Bradshaw’s life. And unlike her exes, it has never let her down. Fashion has never ghosted Carrie, never cheated, never died mid-season. It’s always shown up, fabulous and forgiving. In her world of chaos, couture is the constant.
And Just Like That… might be polarising for some, but its fashion legacy continues to evolve and inspire. From Carrie’s whimsical drama to Miranda’s experimentation and Seema’s modern power play, the show reminds us that personal style isn’t static it grows with us, reinvents itself, and sometimes circles right back to a tutu on the street.