Most thursday nights hillary herskowitz slips on her Seven jeans, chooses from among her dozens of shoes, and steps out for an evening sipping Ketel One and tonics with the modish throngs of Manhattan. The 35-year-old communications director and her designer-clad wing girls―a pediatrician, a health-care manager, and an executive recruiter―cruise the city's swankiest bashes: the posh private parties, the paparazzi-stalked soirees. They don't just watch Sex and the City. They live it. But after 13 years of this behind-the-velvet-ropes scene, they have yet to find the one thing they want most: husbands. The search has taken on a more desperate flavor of late; the women now plan to haunt sports bars in their stilettos. "It feels terrifying because the biological clock is ticking, and I want to have kids," says Herskowitz. "And I never, ever thought I'd wind up here."
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