In an interview with The Daily Telegraph, Candace Bushnell described her new novel, Lipstick Jungle, as "a pretty philosophical kind of book." This statement seems to be a somewhat incongruous descrition of a book in which the main characters go to fashion shows, make love to underwear models on kitchen table tops, and agonize over whether or not to buy $50,000 ponies for their children. It's an even odder statement coming from a writer whose previous work includes the sex column upon which the HBO series Sex and the City was based and whose earlier novels featured characters who focused mainly on marriage, men and Manolos (i. e. how they can get the second in order to afford the third).
In Lipstick Jungle, however, Bushnell tangles a more weighty subject: specifically, what happens when younger women like the girls in Sex in the City reach their forties and start to concentrate more on their jobs. Or, in other words, picture Carrie with a high-powered career.
The novel focuses on the intertwining tales of three successful fortysomething women living in New York City, all of whom are struggling to maintain often precarious balances between their personal and professional lives. Victory Ford, a fashion designer, may have to sell the rights to her company after a disastrous fashion show. Nico O'Neilly, the editor-in-chief of Bonfire magazine, is struggling to juggle schemes and machinations in the office and her affair with a twentysomething underwear model in the bedroom. Finally, Wendy Nealy, the president of Paradour Pictures, tries to produce a blockbuster movie, be a good mother to her children, and save her marriage with her dissatisfied, stay-at-home husband, Shane.
Admittedly, the novel would have benefited from a more tightly woven plot. But, as in the author's previous novels, Four Blondes and Trading Up, the point is not so much the destination but the journey. Along the way, Bushnell's insider details about the hot hangouts and more ways of New York's power set keep the reader's interest, while her witty account of these three New Yorkers' willingness to do anything and everything to help their careers keeps the story moving and the pages turning.
In addition to describing the high-powered careers of her three protagonists, Bushnell takes a feminist look at the sexism still ubiquitous in the upper echelons of the corporate world. At times her feminism seems heavy handed and even clumsy, as her characters again and again ask, "Would he have done this if I were a man?"
However, unlike many feminist novels that blithely set out to prove that women can do it all, Bushnell also acknowledges that fulfilling a traditionally male role leaves women open to the problems that are usually faced by men. For example, while contemplating a divorce, one of the characters realizes that because she has a full-time career she may lose custody of her children and be forced to pay her husband child support.
This reversal of traditional gender roles questions not only whether the laws should be adjusted in order to avoid separating a mother and her children, but also whether these laws are fair even if the primary caregiver is a man.
In the end, readers will still probably turn to Bushnell's novel for her sex scenes and dishy gossip than her feminist philosophy. But then, that's this semester's reading lists are full of weighty novels, right? And if you're trying to decide whether to buy Dior Addict Lipstick ($23 at www.sephora.com) or Bushnell's new novel ($16.47 at www.amazon.com), why not give Lipstick Jungle a try? It's a fun, feminist read and, best of all, unlike the Dior, it's guaranteed to stay on your mind (and lips) for longer than an hour.