When Sex and the City premiered a decade ago, unprecedented frank talk about vibrators, orgasms and blow jobs instantly turned the HBO sitcom into an emblem of the emancipated, sexually liberated 21st century woman. Or at least that's what they said.

Now, the big-screen premiere of the movie based on the original TV series has arrived with a bang, but to women who are just about to meet the characters (those that were too young to watch Sex and the City when it first came out), the idea of four women talking in somewhat graphic terms about sex is far from a turn-on.

Just log on to Sex and the Ivy, the bleeding heart nympho's guide to Harvard life, for example, a blog by a 20-year old Harvard student who majors in sociology, and you will see that Samantha's taking a female lover in her 30s is, like, so late in her life. And this blogger is just one of an army of sex columnists who'd make Carrie Bradshaw blush.

Sex and the City is much less about sex than about the City, or some very well-dressed, coiffed and spike-heeled idea of it that must seem foreign to most young women living in New York. And, it's about relationships - Will Carry ever marry Mr. Big ? (a question that is still building up in the screen version of the movie) Will Samantha ever commit? So we end up with four female friends' who have a shared obsession with their marital status in a show that is supposedly helping women along on their way to sexual autonomy.

So could we really say that the throngs of women reportedly deliberating what to wear for a couple of cosmos before the Manhattan premiere of the movie somehow prove the sexual liberation of the 21st century woman. I'll give you that: I started writing this at home, dressed in my pink shirt with red lettering Porn and a star across my tits (a shirt I wear mostly because it stretches comfortably over my pregnant belly). Maybe I owe the very existence of this garment to Sex and the City, but then New York's best-dressed women wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like that.