In elementary school, I was the only kid in my class whose favorite Ninja Turtle was Donatello. Later, I was the only one of my girlfriends who chose Jon Knight as her favorite New Kid on the Block. In other words, I have a thing for the runt of the litter. And the current runt of the pop culture litter is Miranda Hobbes, the one who nobody picks as their favorite “Sex and the City” character. As much as I love to loathe the show, I’ve always liked Miranda’s character the best. I can’t relate to rich women who quit their jobs when they get married, underpaid writers who waste all their money on shoes instead of investing in a 401(k), or chicks who are sleeping with a new dude every 10 minutes. But Miranda? She’s a human being who could actually exist in real life, not just on a fancy, fluffy TV show. She was often imperfect or badly dressed, and sometimes she said dumb stuff on dates. Sadly, it’s her humanity that makes her the least appealing to many people. If entertainment is aspirational, no woman wants to see a fictionalized version of herself.
Mirandas are not as vocal as Carries or as ballsy as Samanthas, but we’re out there. As a Miranda, I tend to date beta males, focus almost to the point of obsession on my career, wear shoes that are more practical than sexy, and proudly call myself a feminist. I’m also fond of dark humor (how Miranda managed to stand Charlotte’s perpetually sunny demeanor I will never understand). While she often came off as “the angry one,” she was capable of incredible empathy and kindness. I challenge anyone to watch the scenes of her caring for Steve’s elderly mother and not feel the same way. [SPOILER ALERT] In “Sex and the City 2,” she does something she’s needed to do for ages: She quits her corporate law firm gig for a low-key job that will enable her to spend more time with her friends and family. In terms of attaining work-life balance, Miranda does it the best of them all. Isn’t that everyone’s dream?
Of all the “girls,” Miranda is the only one I can see myself hanging out with in real life. It wouldn’t be a contest to see who could come up with the craziest outfit or drink the most ridiculous cocktails at an overpriced trendy nightspot. We’d hang out at home, rent movies to snark on, and eat junk food without feeling guilty (even if it came from out of the trash can). In other words? I’m a Miranda, and I’m proud of it. I may not be the most glamorous girl at the party, but I always have a good time. I know which people in my life I can count on, and my feet hurt way less at the end of the night.
Lilit Marcus is the editor of The Gloss.