The Oracle of Carrie Bradshaw

the retrogrades of And Just Like That...

This is a redux of a similar essay from July 2023.

Sometimes I can only mark time through the culture I consume. I spent most of 2022’s Venus Retrograde—which was in Capricorn, my 4th house of home, family and upbringing—cooped up in my apartment, watching Sex and the City from start to finish. I was 32 and so was Carrie Bradshaw when the series began. It felt fitting for me, a forever contrary Aquarius moon, to meet SATC not in a space of idealizing my adult life, but where we both were at:exhausted writers in our 30’s, living alone in NYC.

As I binged episode after episode in early 2022, Venus and Mars were playing a game of cat and mouse in the sky. That astrological weather was reflected back to me in the show. Through both the whiplash gender politics—a group of cis straight women written as cis gay men—and the show’s general theme of “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.” Television shows often do this: reflect the astrology of the time they’re released, or the moment we choose to watch them. It’s almost like astrology is a tool that reflects something deeply ingrained in all of us as humans, whether we know the technicalities or not. It makes me wonder if every television show is oracular.

That all being said, though I first watched it during a Venus retrograde, Sex and the City itself is not a retrograde show. Its follow up series And Just Like That…though, is a perfect case study for Venus retrograde. Or really, any retrograde. It’s a retrograde of the mind.

And Just Like That… premiered on December 9, 2021, a few weeks before Venus stationed retrograde in Capricorn. From the start, it was an exercise in flipping the Venusian—romance, beauty, art and women themselves!!!—on its head. For those who don’t subject themselves to the smooth brain lobotomy that is this reboot, AJLT is a (mostly) Samantha Jones-less “where are they now.” The girls are as out of touch as ever. But while the original show had dialogue and plot lines that ranged from politically cringe to downright racist and transphobic, the update is an attempt to course correct. AJLT, especially in the first two seasons, adds a diverse ensemble to the main cast, and tries to tackle delicate social issues. Though it remains a serialized rom com in form, the over-corrected social awareness has it playing like a surrealist after school special. The tone is somewhere between campy cult horror film and Amy Sherman-Palladino-does-David-Lynch fever dream. But if those things were less fun and barely watchable.

Like Capricorn, the first season of AJLT takes on the Saturnian themes of aging and legacy. Miranda ditches her red hair and goes gray. Mr. Big dies. The log line seems to be: “Everyone’s older, audience included. Now what?” The first season was a test of the Carrie Bradshaw IP’s structural integrity. Everything about it was clunky, from the title featuring an ellipsis to polarizing new character, Che Diaz. But the strength of the brand (Saturn, Capricorn) kept the ratings up. The second season of AJLT premiered on June 22, 2023, just before another Venus retrograde. But for the next go-round, the planet of love was moving backwards in Leo, a sign that loves the spotlight.

Things were brighter in Season 2—i.e. Miranda spends time in sunny Los Angeles. But the plot was just as—if not even more—disjointed and awkward. To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. What I do remember is Carrie committing the most Venus retrograde of sins: getting back with her ex, Aidan. Things are bliss between them for a spell until, in the Season 2 finale, Aidan tells Carrie he can’t stay in New York, he must go back to Virginia and deal with family issues that vaguely resemble the plot of 90’s Christian family soap 7th Heaven. Aidan asks Carrie to wait for him, and also that they go no contact for five years. What could go wrong with this retrograde relationship arrangement?

I figured Season 3 of AJLT would premiere during the Venus retrograde in Pisces and Aries during March and April 2025. Especially because Cynthia Nixon and Sarah Jessica Parker are both Aries. But the retrograde came and went without even a trailer. Season 3 finally debuted on May 29, 2025, with Venus still in Aries, but out of her retrograde shadow. Were we finally going to see the girlies back in their power? The answer was, of course: no.

Season 3 begins with Carrie, desperate to break the silence, sending blank postcards back and forth with Aidan. A gesture she finds romantic—get it together, girl, you’re almost 60!!!! I won’t spoil the plot of Season 3 (which at the time of this writing has three more episodes until the finale and I will regrettably be watching all of them), but let’s just say, Carrie and Aidan’s relationship agreement has not been working out.

Though Season 3 of AJLT isn’t airing alongside a Venus retrograde, it’s airing with a Mercury retrograde. This summer’s Mercury retrograde has Mercury in conversation with Venus, and also treads over a similar part of the sky as the Venus retrograde of Summer 2023. With retrogrades, we’re invited to experiment, test our proof of concept and, in the case of the AJLT girlies, fall flat on our face. But when the retrograde ends, the story isn’t over. Two years have passed, and yet, we, like Carrie and Aidan, are still dealing with some of the same problems. Cycles repeat, parts of the sky are revisited, over and over and over again.

What was going on for you in the Summer of 2023? Particularly in June and August. Promises made might need a review of their terms and conditions. Projects started may be finding a new form. A road not taken is realized as a true desire. What story is still playing out from back then? How can you give yourself grace for the things you still haven’t figured out?

With all that said, I can’t help but wonder, what if AJLT was the real form of divination all along?

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For more on Carrie Bradshaw as oracle and astrology hidden in plain sight: On Thirty Five