Originally Published in Print, April 2022.
For better or worse, some TV shows, with the help of viral tweets and think pieces, are catapulted into the general cultural consciousness. Emily in Paris is one of those shows. When the first season was released by Netflix in 2020, rather ominously mere months before the pandemic took hold, the vast majority of critics and serial binge-watchers likened Emily to the Antichrist himself. Such staunch hatred for a series right off the bat is enough to dissuade even the most devout rom-com fans from watching such a monstrosity, but with the arrival of the second season in December 2021, I gave into temptation and watched both seasons in the space of four days. While many of the critiques the series has received are indeed valid, to my dismay, I find myself on the opposite side of the fence in the great Emily in Paris debate, filled with a curious appreciation of the satirical world surrounding this misunderstood femme fatale.
For those unacquainted, Emily in Paris revolves around the privileged life of young American Emily Cooper (Lily Collins), who, despite not speaking a single word of French, is handed the opportunity to move to Paris and essentially micro-manage Savoir, a successful French marketing firm. This simple premise is one of the biggest gripes viewers have had with the show, lamenting the sheer audacity of this American woman to waltz around the City of Love blatantly speaking English at unsuspecting Parisians with glee and chastising her colleagues for speaking in their native language. While on the surface this behaviour can appear highly ignorant, it is worth noting that it was not Emily who was supposed to take the job at Savoir, but her boss Madeline (Kate Walsh). However, due to her unexpected pregnancy, Emily was forced to step in, French dictionary in tow. It is hard to deny that there is at least a grain of truth in this exaggerated depiction of an American’s first visit to Europe, therefore I would argue that it is Emily who is the intended butt of this joke, and not the nation of France she insults in her wake. She does make slow progress in season two by joining a beginner’s language class, which she ends up having to repeat due to her lack of practice, but unfortunately, that still makes her inability to even say “bonjour” to shopkeepers in season one no less audacious.
Similar to her lack of French fluency, viewers have also criticised Emily for failing to immerse herself in French culture during her time in Paris. She baulks at the idea of eating rare meat, starting work at mid-morning instead of the crack of dawn and the general concept of masculine and feminine nouns. Sure, declaring that the word vagina being a grammatically masculine noun in French (le vagin) is inherently sexist could be seen as an oversimplification of a language she can’t even understand, but she is a big fan of pains au chocolat, so she is not a complete Francophobe. One could even go as far as to say that her hesitancy in embracing the stereotypes of French culture presented in the show, such as substituting food for cigarettes, may be down to an inner pang of homesickness for her beloved Chicago. While she seldom speaks of her American roots, some things might simply be too painful to say out loud, therefore some subtextual reading between the lines could be necessary in order to see her true intentions, perhaps through a rewatch à la Pulp Fiction or Interstellar.
While the problematic story-related aspects of the show that lie beneath the surface are easy to defend, a challenge presents itself when discussing Emily’s unique fashion sense. It demands to be noticed, often for all the wrong reasons. Her garish outfits, paired with impractical heels, off-putting hats and far too many different pairs of fingerless leather gloves, are reminiscent of an early 2000’s Disney Channel starlet’s wardrobe. Many suggest these fashion faux pas are a tone-deaf mockery of the local chic French style, but as the saying goes, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Emily is not maliciously attempting to portray a caricature of French people; she is simply trying to channel her inner Coco Chanel or Brigitte Bardot. It is just an unfortunate tragedy for our eyes that her grandiose vision manifests as the Kidz Bop version of Parisian fashion.
Stripping away these superficial elements of the show, the root cause of the global Emily in Paris hatred seems to be Emily as a person. Pitchforks were raised and torches were lit all across the internet when Emily repeatedly kissed, and slept with, her neighbour Gabriel (Lucas Bravo), local chef and boyfriend of her dear friend Camille (Camille Razat). Moreover, she chose to keep this betrayal from Camille until her secret was forcefully revealed midway through season two. Every character has their flaws, and this whole situation was clearly a low point for Emily, but in the chaos of the hate mob, the true villain of the story has been overlooked: Gabriel. He was the one who kept the fact that he had a girlfriend from Emily in the first place, while shamelessly flirting with her, and continued to relentlessly pursue her despite being in a seemingly committed relationship. He was consistently ready to dump Camille at the drop of a (notably garish) hat if Emily would have him, a proposal which she repeatedly rejected, and instead of ending his relationship due to the fact that he is in love with someone else, he cruelly and resentfully stays with Camille due to a sense of moral obligation at Emily’s request. This in no way diminishes Emily’s wrongdoings throughout the series, but shows that she was led down this path of deception by manipulative forces beyond her control. Honestly, both women deserve better than this wolf in chef’s clothing.
Emily Cooper is certainly a complicated woman, monolingual, insular, adulterous and just a little bit tacky. However, those around her choose to tolerate her pastel-coloured nonsense, a choice that is their burden to live with, but not ours to judge. She is also a young adult living far from home in a strange foreign city trying to find love and success, a sentiment I am sure even the loudest members of her hate mob could relate to. The series as a whole begins to make sense if it is appreciated as satire rather than a true realistic drama, from the French stereotypes and fashion right down to the American woman on a European odyssey of self-discovery. Emily and the world she lives in are, as the French would say, avant-garde. Judging from the backlash the series has received, it is apparent that many viewers don’t share this perspective, but that will not stop Netflix from producing many more seasons to allow the chaos of Emily in Paris to continue to thrive, as if out of pure spite. C’est la vie.
