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3. And Just Like That… Fades Away: When Nostalgia Alone Isn’t Enough

After three seasons, And Just Like That takes its final bow. As the much-anticipated reboot of Sex and the City, the series never quite recaptured the magic of the original. Caught between clumsy tribute and forced modernity, it leaves behind a paradoxical charm and the taste of a missed opportunity.

And Just Like That… The story ends here. On August 14, 2025, HBO will air the final episode of a show that always walked a fine line, the line of memory. The memory of a cult quartet from the late 1990s. The memory of a fantasized New York, filled with cosmos, heels, and raw confessions. But above all, the memory of a series that gave voice and presence to a generation of women too often reduced to silence or cliché.

Yet nostalgia can sometimes feel more like a burden than a comfort. The promise of reinvention slowly gave way to disenchantment, albeit one tinged with bittersweetness.


Sex and the City’s iconc quartet. ©This is Beirut

From its very first season, And Just Like That took a clear stance. There was no intention to simply recreate Sex and the City. Time had passed, and so had the characters. Just one episode was enough to say goodbye to Big, but a lifetime would not be enough to forget him. As the iconic Carrie Bradshaw struggled to cope with his absence, we too were learning to move on. And already, a question lingered: what could the story really mean without him?

Carrie deals with grief, Miranda faces challenges in her relationship and explores her sexuality, and Charlotte strives to maintain the image of a perfect family. Bodies have changed, faces as well. And with them came new themes: aging, inclusivity, sexual diversity, late parenthood, new technologies, cancel culture. An ambitious agenda. Perhaps too ambitious?

Criticism quickly grew. Not against the idea of change-in fact, the series had the potential to become a model for generational transition-but against how it was handled. Too obvious. Too self-aware. Too “woke” for some, not subtle enough for others. The character of Che Diaz, a non-binary comedian meant to represent modern fluidity, unintentionally became a divisive symbol. Online, viewers described the character as “aggressive,” “poorly written,” and “unnecessarily provocative.” What was intended as a mirror of our times ended up pushing people away. Worse still, it became a source of misunderstanding.


And Just Like That...Characters. ©This is Beirut 

When Nostalgia Turns into a Generational Unease

The contrast is all the more striking when we think of Samantha. A flamboyant symbol of uninhibited sexual freedom, she remains remembered as the beating heart of Sex and the City: funny, direct, provocative, but never a caricature. In contrast, Che seems to exist simply because it is politically correct. Where Samantha charmed with her authenticity, Che sometimes irritates with their rhetoric. It is no surprise that Kim Cattrall’s absence left a void that this new character, despite all their sincerity, could never fill. The goal was not to replace but to reinvent, and that is where the series stumbled.

Yet not everything should be dismissed. And Just Like That… sometimes managed to capture something genuine and moving. Carrie’s journey after Big’s death, Miranda’s struggle with her own contradictions, and the awkwardly tender moments between older and newer generations of women are all scenes that feel sincere and often deeply touching. But in trying to say everything, show everything, and include everyone, the series became scattered. Most importantly, it lost sight of what made its predecessor strong: lightness, humor, and boldness. Those sharp conversations where four women could rethink the world over brunch.

Showrunner Michael Patrick King confirmed that this ending was not a cancellation but a creative choice. An elegant way to close a chapter that had lost its true spirit. Sarah Jessica Parker, Cynthia Nixon, and Kristin Davis expressed their emotions about the journey. Yet in their words, a certain weariness also comes through. As if they themselves had come to accept the truth: you cannot bring back the ghosts of the past without consequences.

The numbers tell a clear story. Viewership dropped 59% between seasons 1 and 2, then fell another 7% in season 3. Streaming numbers have struggled to make up for the growing lack of interest. Audiences watched, often to criticize. Out of loyalty, curiosity, habit, and passion.

So why didn’t the magic return? Because Sex and the City belonged to a specific time, culture, and spirit, all now behind us. Its sharp dialogue, unapologetic flaws, and bold humor captured a time more concerned with living than being liked. At its core, And Just Like That set out to say, “we’re still here, despite everything.” But it was that very “everything” that made returning so difficult.

Carrie Bradshaw, performed by Sarah Jessica Parker. ©This is Beirut

For fans who’ve been there from the start, this is more than just the end of a series. It’s the closing of a chapter from their youth. A time when Carrie typed her columns on a candy-colored Mac, friendships were worn with high heels, and everything seemed possible on Manhattan’s streets. That world is now fading. And perhaps the hardest part for those fans is accepting that what once was will never be again.

There will not be a season 4, and perhaps that is for the best. The story ended with quiet grace, like slipping into a cherished dress one last time before finally putting it away.

And just like that… the chapter closes. So long, Carrie. Rabbit rabbit, Xxx.