Rare luck touched Russian viewers as two popular arcs arrived almost together: the late-90s staple Everybody 50 and the new season of Sex and the City’s sequel. The latest run of And Just Like That follows Carrie Bradshaw and her friends on a new set of adventures. They are not teenagers anymore, but they’re not quite sixty either. If these releases had come out years apart, no one would think to compare them. But watching one show after the other—focusing first on the restless East Coast crowd, then on a circle of single urban women—invites a natural comparison of two worlds that have drifted in opposite directions.
Both series touch the same core issue in different tones: the need to live with hyperactive longevity. People gain new social chances while their bodies stay the same. They can chat more, travel more, and strive to stay attractive. Yet the body remains largely the same. Five thousand years ago or today, a 60-year-old woman shares the same hormonal rhythms, skin elasticity, joint mobility, and chronic conditions. The difference is in the visibility of age and the social script surrounding it.
In Russia, the aging population with limited mobility draws attention to a broader question. What happens when nearly a billion active people near retirement age still wish to dress well, feel desirable, and enjoy romance or personal adventures? They have access to products meant to support movement and youthfulness—joint care, leg support, hair dyes, peels, and cosmetic procedures. Yet the rest of life remains simply old. The human body, down to its basic physiology, remains the same as in ancient times, even for those who look modern and well-preserved. The contrast between a timeless biology and contemporary aesthetics becomes striking when one considers real life outside the movies.
“She will eat something, but who will provide it?” The world now offers many ways to stay active and sexually engaged into later years. Each year tempts people with opportunities to preserve attractiveness as time passes. The idea of staying young persists, but where do health and time come from, really?
The American answer to aging and romance places its protagonists in their late fifties. The Sex and the City season features leading women who are 57 or 58, and the actresses behind them are the same ages. In a playful nod to the show’s long history, the teaser hints at rekindled flirtations even as life has moved on. Miranda, at 57, ends a long relationship that lacks spark, while a new crush teases boundaries. Carrie, now 58, navigates dating after significant loss, and a knee surgery becomes part of her journey as she tries to maintain the confidence that defined her youth. The line between dating, longing, and a social script about staying relevant becomes a running theme, echoing a real push to normalize late-life romance and vitality.
Charlotte, at 58, continues balancing family duties with personal presence. She remains stylish and thoughtful, a steady heartbeat in the world of dating and friendship. Yet the show foregrounds a gentler, more grounded form of attractiveness—one rooted in everyday life, not showy glamour. The contrast with Carrie and Miranda underscores a spectrum of aging: some chase spectacular youth, others seek steady companionship, and many land somewhere in between.
In both narratives, the question appears: Can a woman aged fifty and beyond maintain a lively sex life, a sense of personal worth, and medical realities like aging skin and hormonal change? The screen versions depict women who can still feel desirable in their late fifties, but they also acknowledge the practical health considerations that accompany aging. The projection of beauty routines and cosmetic interventions sits alongside genuine concerns about fertility, sexual health, and long-term safety. The result is a nuanced picture: the dream of continual youth, tempered by the realities of bodies that are, well, human.
The early seasons of Sex and the City might reflect a society still chasing youth with greater fervor, while the later chapters reveal a shift toward acceptance and practical adaptation. The characters move through fashion, dating, and companionship with an honesty that suggests an evolving standard for aging. They do not pretend to ignore the toll of time; they work within it, seeking connection, meaning, and warmth in a world that changes as rapidly as it ages.
Both shows present a broader cultural question: how should people respond to loneliness when children grow up, work demands rise, and the thrill of youth fades? If more than fifty social groups now populate the modern world, what does life look like after fifty? A long life can still be rich with love, friendship, and purpose, but the path is less about sprinting into romance and more about finding genuine companionship and self-respect.
Maria Poroshina’s portrayal of Julia offers a grounded contrast. Julia is not rail-thin; she is real, with a family, a home, and a practical approach to life. She wears comfortable shoes, values joint health, and treats aging with a mix of pragmatism and dignity. Her friend Valentina embodies a more adventurous stance—experienced, dating with confidence, and open to new connections while acknowledging the weight of years. Their stories feel closer to everyday life: less about chasing perfection, more about navigating love, aging, and friendship with warmth and humor.
The men in this universe appear ordinary by design—aged, a little tired, still seeking companionship. The years have left them with memories and a sense of steadiness rather than the feverish pursuit of youth. The show hints that the pattern of aging may shift again as medical science advances, but for now the characters move through life with ordinary rhythms, trying to balance desire, responsibility, and dignity.
Ultimately, both series ask the same question from different angles: what is the value of living fully at every age? If the old model of aging—stockings, grandchildren, and quiet endurance—feels outdated, a new guideline is emerging. It suggests that vitality is not a limited resource but a way of living with intention, care, and connection. The path forward may involve new routines, discussions about health, and a broader acceptance that love and companionship do not expire with youth.
In this light, Everybody 50 presents a more grounded, relatable vision. It centers on realistic aging, where characters remain fully human—imperfect, affectionate, and unique. They are not chasing glamour; they are seeking attention, warmth, and a sense of belonging. And in that sense, the show offers a compelling answer to the question of aging in the twenty-first century: there is life, and there is love, after fifty.