CARRIE WORSHIP

Just bought my cinema ticket for the opening night of Sex and the City 2. I've said thanks-but-no-thanks to the press pre-screening a few days earlier because I think it's a moment to be enjoyed with your best girlfriends, not a room full of addled hacks. I have a secret adulation for Carrie Bradshaw. Yes, I know she's self-absorbed, overly-angsty and decidedly vacuous at times. And her outfits are often too ridiculous for words. And the plots preposterous. But New York... and the glamour... and the story of a sassy writer finding her way in the world... in Manolos. Well, it was enough to make me pack a suitcase, head to the Big Apple and become my own version of Carrie (in a bigger dress size with a smaller closet). I was 24 and easily impressed but even now I'm only slightly embarrassed to hold my hands up to you and admit she was my inspiration. I ran into Sarah Jessica Parker while I lived in Manhattan. We were both waiting for a table at the same little neighbourhood Thai restaurant in the West Village. I debated going over to tell her she was the reason I'd upped sticks to the city that never sleeps. But then I wondered if that happened to her alot... and if she'd be annoyed at being disturbed on this hot and hazy Thursday night... and I got a bit shy... and the people I was with told me I was crazy. So I didn't. And I still sort of regret it. But even though she doesn't know she's the catalyst for my biggest career step, I'll always be grateful, so I'm happy to pay £10 for my movie ticket.