A free Hot Fellas Bakery pop-up from And Just Like That is coming to NYC this week
Along with the usual baguettes and buns, though, Anthony's bakery also serves major cake—namely, hunky delivery men in inseams short enough to make Paul Mescal blush. And in celebration of the series' third season (which premiered on Max on Thursday, May 29), Hot Fellas Bakery is coming to life in NYC.
Open for two days only — Saturday, June 14 from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Sunday, June 15 from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. — at Librae Bakery in the East Village (35 Cooper Square), the immersive activation "transforms a fan-favorite gag into a carb-filled, cheekily branded experience," per organizers.
Wait, when did Hot Fellas start delivering cake? 😏 #LetsChatAJLT pic.twitter.com/bUQNibNiQT
— And Just Like That... (@AndJustLikeThat) February 23, 2022
Designed to mirror the Hot Fellas Bakery from the HBO series, the pop-up will include free house-baked breads and pastries and fresh coffee decked out in character-themed packaging. Outside of the complimentary snacks and sips (all available while supplies last), attendees can take home limited-edition Hot Fellas merchandise, exclusively designed by the pop-culture brand THNK1994. And the experience wouldn't be complete without the bakery's titular hunks, who will be on site for fun photo opportunities.
"One of the joys of working on 'And Just Like That…' is finding ways to bring the show's fan favorite moments into the real world," said Dana Flax, VP of Originals Marketing at HBO & Max. "Seeing fan-favorite Anthony's vision of hot bread, and even hotter men, come to life through the Hot Fellas bakery pop-up has been so much fun. It felt like a treat in more ways than one, and a natural way to give fans a taste of a story they love."
Can't make it in person to Hot Fellas this weekend? Max has also partnered with Grubhub and Seamless to deliver a supplemental stream-and-snack experience: New Yorkers can order a limited-edition Hot Fellas Bakery Bundle, which includes the same mouthwatering .
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The Guardian
3 hours ago
- The Guardian
Wildly incoherent, utterly flummoxing, blissful: how And Just Like That rewrote the rules of TV
Sex and the City's divisive spin-off And Just Like That is set to end after three bizarre seasons and a deluge of critical contempt, with bemused fans losing it on Reddit, and articles about how the programme became a hate watch. There has been little heartache in the discourse after the announcement of the show's demise, the general consensus being: good. But to these people, I say – you're wrong! But also, I understand. There is always an element of fear in contemplating change, in engaging with the rapid advancement of modernity, and I would like to make the case for And Just Like That being a product of exactly that. It feels analogous to a comment a friend of mine once made during a conversation about the best oven pizzas, when someone posited Dr Oetker pizzas as a contender: 'It's delicious, it's something different, I don't know what it is … but it's not pizza.' This is how I feel about And Just Like That. It's a pleasure to watch, it's fun, it's compelling, I don't know what it is – but it's certainly not TV drama. And Just Like That is something new; I genuinely believe the show has reimagined what television drama is, and how we might engage with it. I wonder whether And Just Like That represents the end point of television drama's evolution into content – pure content, no longer a strictly narrative format. Many have wondered whether it was covertly written by AI, and I understand this line of thinking, as none of the characters behave like their original characters. In fact, they don't behave like human beings. The dialogue is bizarre (repeated references to comedian Che's 'comedy concert'), while the editing is flummoxing, unnatural and awkward; scenes are abandoned at peculiar moments, new storylines introduced four-fifths of the way into an episode, before quickly fizzling out. The camera moves in jarring sweeps. The minor characters have their own minor characters, and everyone gets a (ridiculous) storyline, with one episode even featuring a monologue by the assistant of the dad of one character, Lisa Todd Wexley. Recently, many pointed out that the show accidentally killed off her dad twice. Watching And Just Like That mirrors the jarring rush of scrolling through Instagram: a wildly incoherent, meaningless and disorienting experience that is distracting enough to ensure you come back for more. Perhaps part of what makes the show such a joy is that it feels as if you've entered a dream – right down to the fact that plotlines seem to be fuelled by a nonsensical dream logic that flows happily if illogically along. Sure, Charlotte experiences debilitating vertigo that has never been mentioned or referenced previously! Miranda suddenly throws Charlotte a karaoke party after mistakenly believing her dog has cancer – why not?! The closest experience I can liken watching And Just Like That to is a 'digital art museum' I visited on holiday in Tokyo. You moved between colourful inflated balls the size of zoo animals, and waded through calf-deep warm water, while DayGlo cherry blossoms were projected on to the walls. It was baby sensory play but for adults, and it was heaven. I think perhaps this is what And Just Like That is – a pleasurable sensory experience, intended to induce a sort of ASMR-like bliss. In my more generous moments, I wonder if some comment is being made, regarding an atomisation that occurs in late middle-age, or regarding the alienation these characters are experiencing as a symptom of being hideously rich, given their drifting apart from one another. Is its lack of narrative throughlineand absence of basic coherence mirroring the dislocating experience of life online? Unfortunately, I'm pretty certain it is not that controlled (Sarah Jessica Parker, lead actor and executive producer, doesn't even watch it). Either way, it has been a pleasurably mindless experience, and at a time in which I have received a very scary diagnosis for my son, I have welcomed my weekly lobotomy with full force. And when it comes back, as I'm almost certain it will, I will feel much the same about it as Donald Trump does about Coca-Cola: I'll still keep drinking that garbage.
New Statesman
3 hours ago
- New Statesman
Farewell Carrie Bradshaw, the imperfect radical
I feel so lonely, I said to myself, after the first episode of And Just Like That. I feel like my friends have died and they've been replaced by these robots, and I'm trying to love the robots, and I don't know if I can. Like many people, I did learn to love the robots, but the show that is widely considered to be one of the worst remakes in television history has been cancelled and people are upset. A table of women next to me yesterday, descendants of Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda, asked each other, over cocktails, why they'd killed it just when it was getting good. The woman who has played Carrie Bradshaw for over half her life is rumoured to be searching for another outlet for her character. The problem is, young people hate Carrie Bradshaw. But ask Carrie's haters which of the girls in Sex And The City they like best and they'll say, 'Well, Carrie, obviously…' Bradshaw will always be the closest television could get to a universal self. She was deep and superficial, flawed and eternally upbeat. It was never quite clear whether her internal narration was honest reflection or a self-serving performance, but isn't that true for all of us? Bad with money, she was goofy and confessional, like an early blogger. She was afraid of her own inner cynic – so she lived as though she was in a movie, and it gave her actions a touch of class. Her emotional life was chaotic, but she always hit her mark and found her light, like a catwalk model. There was mystery: she wore her bra in bed. At the heart of the debate about Sex And The City's reboot – why some people hated it, and some were desperate to love the robots – are intergenerational culture wars, some of which the writers back-peddled furiously to accommodate in its first season, introducing non-binary characters and two very rich ones of colour in an attempt to counter the original show's terminal whiteness. Those who didn't watch Sex And the City the first time round would be thoroughly justified in finding the reboot shallow and strange – it is shallow and strange! Mammon has long bestrode the women's lives, in a preoccupation with all things material, and ghastly product placement was epitomised, for me, in the second feature-length film when Charlotte holds up a tube of Pringles on a plane to Abu Dhabi. By the time the reboot came along, Carrie, whose late husband Big is described in the pilot as 'a better-looking Donald Trump', has no need to work at all. Yet Sex And The City did change everything. Straight men were deeply irritated, when it began, that Carrie Bradshaw was considered 'attractive'. Suddenly women in pubs and university halls were talking about masturbation, and being sexually unsatisfied. Sex And The City showed that friendships are the primary relationships of life, and that some people are happier out of love than in it. It showed that many women feel sick and panicky when they see a detached house in the suburbs: only Charlotte is a mother by choice, and she faces infertility. Bradshaw's only successful relationship is with New York: she's a post-war Dorothy Parker, fearless in the city. Falling in and out of love was almost tidal: it didn't serve a purpose. Underneath the play acting was a free spirit, and from the outside it looked like loneliness. The younger generation, who work so hard to be thoughtful, boundaried people, are told that Carrie changed things for women, so you can imagine the affrontery they feel watching her actual behaviour: they analyse her hypocrisies and self-centredness in YouTube edits, the chaos she creates. The girls' strategy, like women of the Seventies and Eighties, was to learn to be self-centred, and their feminism – this is what I want! – looks brash and unnuanced today. Written by Gen-Xers, the show was completely free from therapy speak and introspection: Carrie only seems crazy in 2025. There are no howls of anguish, no what the fuck is wrong with me, as they move from dating disaster to dating disaster. Instead, they look outward and blame everyone else: Mr Pussy, the man who pooed with the door open. Human beings are still innately self-centred, still just as likely to drop their friends if they get a date, but these days we're required to perform empathy. Carrie annoys us because she unapologetically did what we're all desperately trying to avoid doing. Everyone identifies with her, but people want to be seen as more. The original Sex And The City columns, by Candace Bushnell, were written from a place of nihilism (she got a flat fee of $100k for the screen rights and has never made money from the shows) and are brilliant, and dark. Long before internet dating she asked, 'How did we get here?' She wrote about the death of love, about toxic bachelors and ghosting by another name. The book seethes with internalised misogyny: a male character talks about the thirties 'power flip' when men get their pick of women in the same black cocktail dress with the same blonde bob working desperately against their biological clocks. New York is a throbbing hive of emotional abuse and empty aspiration, the friendships are cool and undefined. The writers of the TV show added hope, determined to love New York where Bushnell was starting to struggle. But the generation that hates Carrie is in the grip of a dating crisis far worse than she ever was, desperate to get off the apps but unsure where love exists if not there. And Just Like That – with some dignity – kept Carrie off social media and away from modern journalism (she didn't get on very well with podcasts either). Her column was a unilateral platform that no longer exists. You can't be light and whimsical, talk in assumptions and generalisations, in a world of multiple voices. That's the biggest change in feminism, and probably the biggest change for Carrie Bradshaw too. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe In the penultimate episode, she goes to a house party at the old, beloved apartment she inhabited for the entirety of the original show, then passed on to a millennial jewellery designer Lisette, with a big dose of 'I see a lot of myself in you'. The house, like the city, was her longest relationship: she is genuinely afraid she will want to live there again. She finds it full of new partitions – young people crammed in to share the rent. But Lisette only has flatmates, she confides in Carrie, because she can't stand living alone. What if someone crawls through the window and murders her? This generation is not fearless in the city. You can see Carrie retreating into herself like a whelk. She gives one of her down-home quips: 'I guess whoever said you should never go home was right!' Lisette's phone flashes. 'That would be novelist Thomas Wolf.' You thought she'd visit her old apartment and find she'd changed, but it's everything around that her that has. For me, the thing that really stands out watching Carrie Bradshaw old and new is the untapped potential of her character. A witty, educated star writer who never talks about art, literature, culture or politics? Favourite book? Rilke's love poems. Does she know who the mayor is? Yes, but she's more interested in who he's dating. Oh to hear her talking about Giuliani – or Trump – rather than shoes. Her smartness has outgrown her subjects, and her strange historical romance novel she's writing seems beneath her. Until the end, that is. She keeps her character single, and her editor complains that she's written a romantic tragedy. 'What's tragic about a woman alone in a garden?' she asks. As the other characters in And Just Like That shrank away, it became clear that Carrie Bradshaw doesn't want to be in a relationship, not really. I'd have watched her ten years from now, elderly in Manhattan, with her single or widowed old friends. That would have been revolutionary too – but quietly, this time. [See more: Dua Lipa, the people's critic] Related
Daily Mail
16 hours ago
- Daily Mail
Sarah Jessica Parker blasted over her 'world salad' answer to why SATC reboot And Just Like That... has been canned
Sarah Jessica Parker has been slammed by fans over her rambling response to why And Just Like That... will end after three seasons. The actress, 60, whose final turn as protagonist Carrie Bradshaw will be seen in the Sex and the City reboot's finale on Thursday, opened up about the end of the series at a recent event - with her speech branded 'nonsense' and 'incoherent.' The show - which saw Parker, Cynthia Nixon and Kristin Davis reprise their SATC roles as Bradshaw, Miranda Hobbes and Charlotte York - has been branded ' woke ', 'awful' and 'cringeworthy' since its debut in 2021. When asked if this will indeed be the final time fans see Carrie Bradshaw's story on screen, Parker said in a video captured by InStyle: 'I have learned not to say goodbye but farewell, there's a distinction right? 'You know you ride that decision and its hard to be definitive and to say it and it really makes no sense to a lot of people which I understand, why would you stop doing something that's successful and that is successful in that moment? 'And i think it's because of the profound affection for the job and for the show which is where Michael [Patrick King] and I were all those years ago when we stopped shooting the Sex and the City television series. View this post on Instagram A post shared by instylemagazine (@instylemagazine) 'It's the respect and the affection that we've given for the experience in totality that leads you to a decision like this that it's such an extraordinary job and you have to kind of honor it... but if you love something you know where to leave it sometimes 'I wouldn't have said back then that we would do a couple of movies and that four years ago or five years that Michael and I would get on the phone and say hmmm and he would feel the same... so who knows?' Fans were left baffled by the response, with one writing: 'This interview is just like the AJLT reboot: painful and unnecessary! (cue SATC movie). No idea what she said in that word salad garbage.' Others wrote: 'AJLT was SO disrespectful to the fans with the sloppy writing, gaslighting the original series, bizarre plot lines, and caricature characters. And the salt on the wound was the bad fashion/costuming. Calling it 'successful' is delusional. Just like The Woman… 'From all that - I did not get a reason AJLT ended. Especially confused when SATC was added for 'totality.' 'That was a nonsense, incoherent response. Kind of like the writing for all of AJLT. I've had to rewatch SATC just to remind myself how much I loved the original series and wipe away the trite drivel that is AJLT. 'The wardrobe was fantastic. Carrie was wow… political correctness and trying to tick all and every box in one prog became ridiculous. In trying to cater to everyone it resonated with noone… WTH happened with Miranda ffs. Fans were left baffled by the 'word salad' response 'Well that was some word salad that didn't illuminate much of anything. 'AJLT was anything but successful 'Girl, what? Said a whole of nothing. It's over been over it's ok to end things & admit the show ran its course.' Other fans praised the star for her emotional response writing: 'I love her. She's always so thoughtful in her answers. And I believe she really loves Carrie and the show, and the actors, and tries to make the best decisions. I'm still gutted it's finishing. 'I'm going to miss it! And I'm going to miss Sarah Jessica's magnificent acting!' Fans had bashed the show and its writers, with some even alleging And Just Like That... had 'ruined' the once-beloved characters from the original Sex and the City and critics calling it 'the worst show on television'. AJLT saw Miranda cheat on husband Steve with non-binary comic Che Diaz, Carrie bizarrely claim 'love of her life' Mr Big was a 'mistake' and agreeing to take a five year break from her on-again romance with Aidan Shaw. The show's viewership had tumbled in its ongoing third season. King said in a statement: 'And just like that… the ongoing storytelling of the Sex and the City universe is coming to an end. 'While I was writing the last episode of And Just Like That… season 3, it became clear to me that this might be a wonderful place to stop. Along with Sarah Jessica Parker, Casey Bloys and Sarah Aubrey, we decided to end the popular series this year with a two-part finale and extended the original series order from 10 episodes to 12. 'SJP and I held off announcing the news until now because we didn't want the word final to overshadow the fun of watching the season. 'It's with great gratitude we thank all the viewers who have let these characters into their homes and their hearts over these many years.' Samantha Jones actress Kim Cattrall notably did not return for the series full-time after a decade of bad blood with her castmates. The original show ran from 1998-2004 with two films in 2008 and 2010. AJLT was first announced in January 2021 - 11 years after the panned movie, Sex and the City 2. It introduced a host of new side characters including Lisa Todd Wexley (Nicole Ari Parker), Seema Patel (Sarita Choudhury) and Dr Nya Wallace (Karen Pittman). The series kicked off in explosive style with Big (Chris Noth) dying of a heart attack in the first episode. Noth was later edited out of the series after being accused of sexual abuse by four women - he denied all the allegations and has never been charged with any crime. Miranda began cheating on Steve (David Eigenberg) - who was her true love over six seasons and two films - with Che (Sara Ramirez) before starting to exclusively date women, despite her character confirming in SATC she was 'definitely not gay.' Last year Ramirez was dropped from And Just Like That because their character Che Diaz was a 'waste of airtime,' according to insiders, who shut down the actor's claim that being pro-Palestine cost them the role. Ramirez a non-binary actor who uses they/them pronouns, implied they will not return for the third season of the Sex and the City spin-off in a series of posts. They heavily suggested their time on the show was over as they claimed 'casting directors and agents are making black lists of actors and workers who post anything in support of Palestinians and Gaza to ensure they will not work again.' But a source close to the show ridiculed the suggestion, claiming Ramirez's head had been 'on the chopping block since last season' because their character 'held no value anymore' and was 'annoying.' Cattrall had previously refused to ever reprise her fan-favorite role as the man-hungry publicist - having last played the character in much derided 2010 film, Sex and the City 2. It was claimed Cattrall had previously 'torpedoed' plans for a third Sex and the City film - but she later denied this. Cattrall shocked fans when it emerged she had filmed a secret cameo for the show's second season, which she did without interacting with any cast member.
