Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Berry.
In an alternate universe, Emily Charlton from The Devil Wears Prada (2006) isn’t hit by a taxi cab and attends Paris Fashion Week instead of Andi Sachs with their boss Miranda Priestly. This is basically the plot of Netflix’s Emily in Paris released earlier this month. Emily Cooper (Lily Collins) leaves her job and boyfriend in Chicago to move to Paris and join the marketing firm Savior. Although entertaining in the way most rom-com TV series are regardless of acting skill, Emily in Paris plays into every stereotype while throwing Parisian sights into the faces of its audience––a cruel tactic during a pandemic when the show’s audience cannot visit Paris.
Emily is not fluent in French and she doesn’t even familiarize herself with the culture before takeoff––although we will give her some credit as this job was thrown at her when her boss Madeline (Kate Walsh) who was supposed to move to Paris finds herself unexpectedly pregnant. There are a plethora of funny scenes where she bumbles around the city, arriving “early” to work, misunderstanding how the floors are numbered in France, shipping Trader Joe’s peanut butter to her new address, and plugging American plugs into European outlets.
There are also deeper stereotypes of Americans working abroad. The show touches on the perception that Americans work all the time, believing that happiness derives from high-achieving work performance, not a perfectly prepared coq au vin. This is particularly apparent when Emily tries to win over her new boss, Sylvie (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu), and co-workers, Julien (Samuel Arnold) and Luc (Bruno Gouery). The stereotypes of French people acting stuck up when it comes to their food and culture are even more glaring. In the second episode, Emily and her new friend, Mindy Chen (Ashley Park) who escaped her family’s zipper business empire and is now a French au pair, go to dinner at a popular restaurant across from Emily’s apartment building. She orders steak, but when it arrives, she is appalled by the blood dripping from the meat and asks the waiter to send the steak back to the chef to be cooked more. Of course, the waiter and chef, who also happens to be Emily’s very attractive neighbor Gabriel (Lucas Bravo), return to explain the steak has been prepared properly and after much coaxing, Emily finally takes a bite and realizes maybe the French do know a thing or two about cooking––even if they can be snobs about their cuisine.
Similar French snobbery is seen elsewhere in the show. Christina Tougias ‘21, an International Relations and French double major who studied abroad through the Sweet Briar JYF program in Fall 2019, explains that the show makes generalizations about French people. Fiona Noonan ‘21, also an International Relations and French double major who studied abroad with Tougias, agrees. She says that while there is backlash against how the show portrays French stereotypes, “you have to take it for what it is, which is a story about an American who constantly commits faux pas and struggles, even refuses, to adapt to the French way.” Both students agree that the show put a smile on their faces, as they long to stroll through Parisian streets again.
Nonetheless, Emily In Paris does make attempts to establish a deeper meaning. There are moments when the show tries to be political, but they are revealed only briefly. When writing copy for a menopause product the marketing firm is representing, Emily discovers that the French word for vagina is masculine. Her discovery of how sexist the French language can be, coupled with her recent break up with her now ex-boyfriend back in Chicago, prompts inspiration for a viral tweet which the French President’s wife, Brigitte Macron, retweets. A similar critique of French feminism creates tension in the third episode titled, “Sexy or Sexist.” The agency organizes a fashion shoot which shows a model strolling naked across a bridge while men admire her body, exemplifying the “male gaze.” Emily thinks this photoshoot is insensitive and will not be well received by the American public. The series introduces the intersection of marketing and femininity. However, Emily is teaching the French about sexism, when in reality France had their own #MeTooMovement called #BalanceTonPorc, which Claudia Willen explains in her article for Insider.
In a later episode, Emily attends an exclusive event for influencers in order to win over a former client of Savior who now prefers employing influencers to do marketing for her makeup brand. The show makes an interesting point about the marketing industry and role of influencers, arguing that marketing firms were the OG influencers. Emily not only represents the dumb-American-goes-abroad stereotype, but also the millennial who stands by the belief that “the camera eats first” and “it didn’t happen if you didn’t post about it.” Alex Abad-Santos explains in his article for Vox, “content-blessed Emily gets the right shot on the first try — every single time. There’s no need to edit a life as perfect as hers.” So, did I really lose five hours of my life watching Emily in Paris if I didn’t post a photo of me sitting in my bed with a glass of wine? (French) food for thought.
I would be remiss if I didn’t also mention the role of romance in the series. The show certainly does not disappoint in feeding my (unrealistic) belief that I can run away to a foreign city, rent the top floor of an apartment building, immediately have multiple relations with attractive French men, and fall in love with my hot neighbor who also happens to be a chef. This is complicated, of course, in an (unsurprising) way with the discovery that Gabriel is dating Emily’s French friend, Camille (Camille Razat). The three go on a weekend trip to Camille’s family’s chateau so Emily can pitch an ad campaign to their family’s champagne business. Emily, trying to suppress her attraction to Gabriel, sleeps with Camille’s younger brother who she believes just graduated university, but finds out his most recent diploma is from middle school, which in French sounds like “college” in English.
Despite this highly problematic sexual encounter with an underrage teenager, Emily’s love life is the epitome of the “study abroad fling,” which COVID-19 rudely interrupted. The last episode begins with Paris Fashion week and ends with Emily realizing her feelings for Gabriel, who conveniently just broke up with Camille. She runs across damp cobblestones (while obviously wearing four-inch heels) to his restaurant, where she knocks on the doors yelling his name––very reminiscent of the climatic moment in Friends when Ross and Rachel get together. We don’t know, however, if Emily and Gabriel’s love will be as strong as this iconic couple as the show ends on a cliff-hanger with an unclear stance from Netflix whether the show will be renewed for a second season. The show is created by Darren Star, who is also the creator of the popular TV show Sex and the City which follows Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) who is basically the NYC version of Emily. Carrie’s love interest is Mr. Big (Chris North) who shares some qualities with Emily’s main love interest, Gabriel. I just hope Emily and Gabriel’s relationship’s trajectory isn’t as painful for Emily as it was for Carrie in Sex and the City.
In conclusion, Emily In Paris is the perfect ten-episode show to distract you from the pandemic, module-two-related stress, and the fate of the upcoming election. In Noonan’s words, Emily in Paris “is a good ole chick flick about young women in a big city.
