And Just Like That... Season Three, Episode Twelve Finale Fashion Recap: Pie for One

Carrie proves she’s OK with being alone by heading out for a solo meal, and she ends up at a Korean BBQ place where the menus are on iPads and the waiters on wheels (because they’re robots). Apparently, there was no room at the Tesla Diner.

But despite initially seeming very open to this new experience, Carrie almost immediately sours on it, though, to be fair, the (human) waiter does not help. Neither does the appearance of Tommy Tomato, Carrie’s companion for the meal, so she doesn’t “have to eat alone.” A shady remark from the hostess, for sure, but the stuffed guy is pretty cute, and he does kind of match her kooky outfit featuring a plaid Ulla Johnson skirt, blue mohair sweater, and matching opaque tights.

LTW and Marion are back in the editing bay, working on the documentary that will not reach any conclusion (will Michelle Obama narrate it? We will never know). They celebrate the news of the former first lady’s possible involvement with a hug, before LTW officially lays down the law—Lisa and Marion are both married, and this relationship will not leave this room, no dinners, no drinks, just documentary. The scene ends there, and while we see the effects of this interaction on Lisa and Herbert later, this specific storyline does feel like a haphazardly tied-up thread.

One of my biggest qualms with AJLT (which I should probably get over, considering the show has now ended) is that I have often felt there are interesting storylines buried beneath the absurdity of these sitcom-adjacent hijinks the writers insist on placing front and center. For example, when Miranda and Steve sit down for dinner to discuss Brady and his future status as a father, Miranda touches on an interesting point. She has had a rough couple of years with her split from Steve, the exploration of her sexual identity, her career switch-up, and her journey as a recovering alcoholic. She is just recently reaching a point of solidity, and now a baby is getting thrown into the mix. It’s a selfish thought from Miranda (though not out of character), but an accurate one. Instead of exploring it any further, however, the writers would rather focus on bathroom humor, so maybe it is a good thing this show is coming to an end.

I won’t waste too much time on whatever is going on between Seema and Adam because Michael Patrick King has already wasted enough. I will only say, Seema, are you really surprised Adam doesn’t believe in marriage? The man rubs crystals on his arm for deodorant and unironically changed his last name to “Karma.”

Charlotte, Lisa, Carrie, and Seema head to the bridal fashion show, where Carrie is still complaining about the restaurant she voluntarily went to, as her gaggle of yes women validates her feelings. This would bother me more if this scene didn’t provide such a feast of fashion for the eyes, so let’s dive into the looks:

Charlotte is angelic in her tonal ensemble featuring an off-white Cult Gaia coat, beaded pencil skirt, collared blouse, and nude pumps. Her outfit provides some relief when placed next to LTW’s, which is comprised of a clashing plaid Harbison suit and fall 2024 coat with burgundy lace-up Gucci boots. Carrie, meanwhile, is in arguably her best look of the season, courtesy of Patrick McDowell, who designed the matching floral shirt and skirt specifically for Sarah Jessica Parker. She wears the pieces with a brown coat, black Sonia Rykiel crystal bag, and satin Mary Jane heels. The foursome is completed by Seema in a leather coat from Fendi’s fall 2024 collection, a brown turtleneck sweater dress, green Fendi Peekaboo bag, and brown pointed-toe boots.

While costume designers Molly Rogers and Danny Santiago find their footing in this scene, the show’s writers most certainly do not. Carrie is blaming the restaurant for internalized insecurities she clearly needs to deal with. She admits these to Charlotte later, but still can’t give that poor Korean BBQ spot a break. But to me, the worst is the disrespect shown at this fashion show, which Seema and Carrie hardly peek at while catching each other up on their latest news. Charlotte and LTW are similar, though they seem to glance at the runway every once in a while. Respect the front row, ladies!

My biggest problem with this scene comes when Seema asks Carrie why she wanted to get married, and she says, “Because it meant I was chosen.” How passively pathetic? You were chosen? It places all the power into Big’s hands and says nothing about a connection, about her worth, or anything that can be described in any way as meaningful. The statement reveals Carrie’s true reasoning behind her insecurities surrounding loneliness—it means no one else has chosen her— and it makes her a little less sympathetic in my eyes.

Duncan may be gone, but his legacy lives on, specifically in Carrie’s choice of footwear. She visits Adam in the garden in a sort of sweatshirt dress and Gianvito Rossi pointed-toe flats. There, Carrie questions Adam on his intentions with Seema, and he assures her that, while he doesn’t believe in the celebration of Thanksgiving or marriage, he most definitely believes in his future with Seema.

I have another qualm with AJLT in its mishandling of Charlotte, and this scene epitomizes the problem for me. She has been reduced to a housewife whose job is to supply on-demand pleasure for her husband. Charlotte has mentioned multiple times that intimacy is not important to her, yet the second Harry is hard, she must drop the Thanksgiving meal she’s slaving over (at his insistence) and jump into bed. I’m left staring at the screen, wondering, did we need this scene?

And here we have it, Carrie Bradshaw’s final ensemble. I won’t mince words— especially following that fabulous Patrick McDowell look from earlier in the episode—this one is not great. Yes, it likely harkens back to Carrie’s iconic tutu, and the sparkles bring to mind the pink rhinestoned phone Carrie picks up in the finale scene of the original series. References aside, it’s an extremely juvenile outfit. The color, tulle, and sequins are all too much. We need something to break up the Molly Goddard fall 2024 skirt paired with a just-as-bright cardigan, pink peep-toe heels, and a fascinating cushioned fascinator. A checked jacket and Vivienne Westwood spring/summer 2013 bag add a bit of relief to the eye, but they are ditched in later scenes as Carrie moves through the evening like a fuchsia tornado.

After an afternoon as a pie Postmate, Carrie finally ends up at Miranda’s apartment for a more intimate Thanksgiving celebration, as most of their friends have bailed on the festivities. Still in attendance, though, is Mia, who has brought along two pals. Again, the introduction of this group feels cheap. The writers are opting for easy laughs (which they don’t even receive) over substantive dialogue, and with 15 minutes left in the series, it hardly feels like the opportune time.

Miranda leaves Carrie to play hostess to her unwanted guests and heads to the vet to keep Joy company. The two look like a perfectly in sync couple with their matching muted looks as they await to hear Sappho’s fate in surgery. Joy wears a brown turtleneck, slacks, and a Soeur bag, while Miranda is in an Elie Tahari dress and A.P.C. tote. The harmony is broken, however, when Joy mentions why Sappho landed in the hospital: she ate a Lego piece a child dropped in the park. “This is why I’m not a fan of children,” Joy proclaims, a remark that likely frightens Miranda, considering she’s about to be a grandmother, but in classic AJLT form, it is not resolved in any meaningful way.

Joy swaps one Soeur bag for another, throws on a plaid wool coat, and heads over to Miranda’s, where she proclaims the sweet line, “You spent the holiday with my family. I can spend it with yours.” No mention of the child about to enter the picture, though.

I’m not sure why they separated all the characters for Thanksgiving. The holiday is a perfect excuse to get everyone together and finish off the show with one more scene showing off the friendship between these women. Yes, maybe they wanted to emphasize that Carrie is ending the series alone, in contrast with her friends who all have partners, but they still could have left us with the same final shot of Carrie heading back to her big townhouse solo.

Instead, King opts for a montage. Barry White’s “You're The First, The Last, My Everything” plays from the karaoke machine as we get one last shot of each family. There is some haphazard tying up of ends: Anthony and Giuseppe flirt more, Charlotte continues her education of Rock’s identity, Herbert breaks his diet, and Seema enjoys gluten-free pie. We end on Carrie, amending the epilogue to her book, seemingly finally OK with being alone, of not getting “chosen” once again.