As every newspaper profile of Candace Bushnell is obliged by law to mention, she didn't get rich off of Sex and the City, having sold the rights to Darren Star for a mere $60,000. Then she neglected to marry a Mr. Big-type mogul, opting unexpectedly for a ballet dancer ten years her junior. Her lifestyle, as a result, isn't exactly as lavish as her characters': Those seven-figure book advances don't go so far, she recently lost her radio show, and it's clear that executive-producing ratings disappointment Lipstick Jungle isn't going to provide for an early retirement. Still, at least she's got a second home, even if it is only worthy of a feature in the Hartford Courant rather than Architectural Digest.
Of course, the Courant's reporter is required to break the shocking news that Bushnell's life is not actually the same as Carrie Bradshaw's. So we're told that her "unpretentious colonial" retreat in Roxbury, Connecticut features "no distinctive handcrafted wood-and-leather Aidan chair, no spacious closet space bulging with designer fashions, not a Manolo Blahnik in sight." Instead, there are "off-the-floor purchases, antiques, cast-offs and assorted flea market finds," and, most disturbingly of all, a kitchen with "no glitz"!
After extolling the virtues of country life ("It's quiet. No fuss. I know my neighbors. And the dog gets to play with the neighbor's dog"), to her credit, Bushnell pretends to take seriously the stupidest of all questions, variations on which she must have been asked 6,000 times: But what would Carrie think of the house? "I would hope she would like it. Everybody relaxes in the country." Even you, Candace.