The Problem with Miranda’s Outfits in And Just Like That

I can excuse ugly, but I draw the line at boring. And Just Like That season 3 is upon us, and I fear Miranda Hobbes has been sentenced to the latter.

If you’ve followed along on the bumpy ride that is the Sex and the City reboot, you know that Miranda’s styling has long been a sore subject. An icon once beloved for her no-nonsense attitude, androgynous edge and impeccable taste for tailoring has been, for two seasons, reduced to an insecure character with a watered-down wardrobe. It seemed Miranda had lost her blunt charm, leaving fans to wonder if And Just Like That season 3 might finally bring it back. One episode in, and we’re off to an unimpressive start.

Season 3 begins with Miranda at a gay bar, wearing a mud-green cowl-neck pantsuit with a belt thrown on for good measure. It’s nice enough—polished and office-appropriate, to be sure—but nothing special. For what should be a fun, flirtatious evening, her unexciting styling reflects her deeply mid experience. When Miranda finds the courage to approach a woman eyeing her, the woman reveals she’s the former babysitter of Miranda’s son Brady, and doesn’t Miranda recognize her?? They catch up awkwardly, and the woman leaves to meet her girlfriend. Left alone, Miranda is the butt of the joke once again. She leans into the bar and asks, “Can I have another Phony Negroni?”

When the space is clearing out, she meets Mary (Rosie O’Donnell), a tourist with a cross-body bag and a blue button-down. They exchange cute banter and Miranda ends up going home with her—win! Except, the morning after, laying in bed, she discovers that Mary is a nun—and before Miranda, had never slept with anyone, ever. Miranda pulls the duvet up to her neck, feeling embarrassed and exposed.

Later, she goes over to Carrie’s apartment, wearing a long white dress and a neutral plaid trench draped over top. There was potential for Coastal Grandmother greatness, but her colourless frock is corporatized with the addition of a chunky brown belt. In contrast, Carrie wears an airy tunic with baby pink pinstripes, no out-of-place office-core accessories to contend with. Here, Miranda’s humiliation over her one-night stand worsens. “Can I ghost a nun?” she asks after Mary invites her to dinner over text.

Toward the end of the episode, at a restaurant with her friends, she wears another belt, this time with a long turquoise shirt-dress. “This nun is in love with me!” she laments to Carrie over dessert. The dress is her best look of the episode—embellished with tonal diamond motifs, contrast stitching and a supple draped skirt. It’s too bad that we, as viewers, don’t get a chance to appreciate it, because it is soon drowned out by the visual chaos of Time Square, where Miranda goes to meet Mary after dinner.

Packed with selfie-stick-wielding tourists and animated street performers, Miranda finds Mary (fresh off seeing Wicked on Broadway, decked out in merch) in the middle of the crowded intersection. Mid-way through their conversation, as Miranda is trying to let Mary down easy, she gets whacked in the back of the head by someone in a monstrous King Kong costume. With all the distressing distractions, even her best outfit fades into the background.

In a show known for its unhinged styling, the unremarkable nature of Miranda’s aesthetic is where I take issue. In episode one, all the other ladies get eyebrow-raising styling moments. Carrie wears a view-obstructing, mushroom-shaped Maryam Keyhani hat to eat ice cream in Central Park. Lisa Todd Wexley sports a bulbous, offensively oversized necklace with not one but two outfits. Seema lazes about in a gold, aluminum-foil-like cardigan that looks objectively uncomfortable. These ensembles are not good, per se, but they’re memorable. Why can’t Miranda have the same?

Throughout the first episode of And Just Like That season 3, Miranda Hobbes has a lot of solid colours, a rotation of statement belts and a criminal lack of layering. In exploring her queerness, could her fashion not be marginally more interesting? It feels like the show is afraid to lean into her newfound identity, instead dressing her in an tiring array of waist-cinching one-pieces. As Miranda tells her son’s former babysitter in the gay bar: “Elephant in the room, I’m a lesbian now!” Let’s see some outfits that do this justice.