Hello beautiful people,

I’ve had a sordid love affair with the show Emily in Paris since someone recommended I watch it in 2020 when it aired. I was an American, working in marketing, not living in Paris, but France (even though I was in the Riviera, it’s still France so it’s basically Paris, right?). 

So here I was, watching this bubbly, stereotypical vapid American girl effortlessly taking over the streets and fashion scene of Paris. She annoyed me, but part of me loved her. After all, I could relate to being an outsider. 

It became my guilty pleasure binge each December when the new season came out. It was low-stakes, yet still gave me the glamorous and creative life abroad feel-good watch. Plus, she was hooking up with another gorgeous man every time one quote-un-quote, “broke her heart”.

But I realized that’s the thing about Emily that the 30-minute episodes don’t, and frankly can’t, show. 

Does she ever really get her heart broken? She has a safety net of another man’s arms almost instantly after one relationship falls through. Where are the quiet moments of integration, of transformation? Does she ever let herself be truly moved by the experiences she’s having, or does she flit from one shallow thing to the next?

Where are the late-night crying FaceTime calls with her mom while trying to navigate time zone differences and feeling unsure about every choice she’s ever made?

One of the most unrealistic things about the show has to be the always-accommodating French people. She rarely has to deal with cultural barriers or even the nightmares of bureaucracy. Everything is handed to her, and we are handed a script and a comfy thought of a glamorous life abroad “if only” I could do that too. 

But of course producers wouldn’t want you to actually have to face any of the discomfort or sacrifices that come with starting your life over across the world. 

She doesn’t, or can’t, sit with any discomfort long enough to actually have real transformation. She is constantly distracted in a whirlwind of social events. Though she is always seen with a drink in her hand, she is too polished and perfect to ever be seen with anyone holding her hair back over the toilet at 4am. 

She has never actually made a fool out of herself, though the show seems to want to make us believe that she does so repeatedly. Because after every ‘failure’ of hers, there is another band-aid knight in shining armour to rush in and save the day.

We all know life doesn’t work like that.

I know none of the messiness is interesting enough for the plot, and I know I’m not the first to critique the show.

She never has a moment where her old self truly dies. She never has to sit in the uncomfortable void of not being who she was anymore but not yet knowing who she’s stepping into. She never has to fully commit to anything or any sort of daily devotion to the person she wants to be, long before anyone claps for her or she knows where she’s truly going. Everything is always carved out for her. 

Am I jealous?

Only a little.

Watching this show each year reminds me that the messy, raw, unfiltered Instagram life of mine is one that asks for a hell of a lot of the confidence and courage that may not involve fancy dinners but that asks you to sit with yourself, through the discomfort, long enough for some form of truth to actually emerge.

What I do love and can relate to about Emily is that, even though she can be naive, she supports and encourages those around her with an unabashed enthusiasm. I think we could all use a friend like that, even if that means being that friend to ourselves. 

Especially if that means being that friend to ourselves. 

So, as 2025 comes to a close, what dreams are we going to allow ourselves to be delusional about? Because even though Emily in Paris isn’t based in reality, I do want to channel a bit more of her dreaminess in the new year.

Love and blessings, babes.

I hope you can make someone smile today.

x Holly