Close Menu
Subscribe

Audrey Hobert’s “Sex and the city” Video Drops

By
Audrey Hobert's "Sex and the city" Video Drops

Audrey Hobert dropped the self-directed video for “Sex and the city” on 3 December, co-starring Will Price. The track appears on her August debut Who’s the Clown? via RCA Records.

The song tears into rom-com delusion from the first line: “This isn’t Sex and the City / Nobody’s watching me write in my room.” It sets the tone immediately, not as parody but as a quiet rejection of the fantasies young women are expected to project onto their lives.

The title traces back to a May 2024 dinner at an oyster restaurant in Manhattan. Hobert sat at the bar with Gracie Abrams and their friend Arianna when Abrams spotted someone across the room. They encouraged her to go over. She refused. “Because this isn’t sex and the city,” Hobert said. 

Later, at a party, she hung out with a guy she already knew. Nothing happened. It rarely does. But the phrase stayed with her. The next morning, she started writing.

Hobert locked herself away in her brother Malcolm’s East Village apartment for a week while he toured. It was only her fourth song, yet she treated it with the intensity of someone who already knew this was the thing she’d be doing for the rest of her life. 

Days blurred into loops of pacing, long writing sessions, stepping away, then returning to the page until she’d squeezed out exactly what she wanted to say. 

She hadn’t lived in the city since being sent home from college during COVID; returning made everything feel slightly off-centre, as if the place she once imagined herself growing into no longer matched the person she’d become.

“Sex and the city” dismantles the Carrie Bradshaw dream piece by piece. Where the HBO series turned disappointment into something aspirational with cocktails, puns, and designer shoes, Hobert sits in the ordinary truth instead. 

She ditches her “cool clothes” the second she gets home. She goes to bars that feel important in the moment until the night fizzles out. She wonders what it’s like to be “admired / Hot and desired” while collecting scraps of attention from men she never asked for in the first place.

The second verse sharpens the point: “Nobody sees me and knows of my column / Nobody sees me at all is the problem.” 

It’s the kind of line that punctures fantasy cleanly. When someone finally does notice her, “they’re not the one that I want to.” No drama. No stylised meltdown. Just the flat truth of being visible but unseen.

The night out that follows is even more anticlimactic. “Call the Uber and I tell ’em turn it up,” she sings, asking the driver to play her song while she’s “drunk and I’m high so I’m crossed.” She “didn’t score any guys so I’m lost,” giving the driver five stars before heading home alone. 

Even the moment that should feel like payoff, a guy inviting her over, collapses into realism: he’s “off his meds and he’s an artist,” he forgets her pizza pocket, his bed has no headboard. She leaves wondering, “If this is it, then what is it all for?”

Ricky Gourmet’s production avoids hyperpop maximalism. Instead, it gives Hobert room to deliver the story clearly: airy drum patterns, steady piano chords, palm-muted acoustic guitar. 

There are synth flourishes layered between verses, but the hooks stay clean and direct. The restraint mirrors the song’s entire point, stripping the glitter off modern dating and showing what’s underneath.

That week in Malcolm’s apartment ended with a shift she could feel. When she finished the song, she knew she wasn’t experimenting anymore. She was a professional singer-songwriter. The next morning, she woke at 6am with the title and cover art for Who’s the Clown? fully formed. Back in Los Angeles, she asked Gourmet to produce an entire project. He agreed.

Since then, Hobert has performed on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and launched her Staircase to Stardom tour, running through May 2026. Before stepping into her own spotlight, she co-wrote Gracie Abrams’ “That’s So True” and “I Love You, I’m Sorry.”

What makes “Sex and the city” hit is how plainly it refuses to dress anything up. Hobert isn’t interested in wish fulfillment. 

She’s describing the moment when a fantasy overstays its welcome, when you realise you’re not living inside a curated New York storyline, you’re living in the version where things don’t magically align, where longing doesn’t guarantee romance, where the city doesn’t reward you for optimism. The heartbreak isn’t dramatic. It’s ordinary. And that honesty is exactly why it lands.

You might also like:

RELATED