Emily in Paris: Fizzy Fun

Let's get this out of the way. I absolutely loved Emily in Paris. But watching it during a pandemic means I also absolutely loathed it. Because all I wanted to do the whole time I was watching it, was hop on a plane to Paris and make my way to the closest patisserie for a pain au chocolat. I did find a Parisian bakery two blocks away from my apartment and have spent the last week buying up every eclair and croissant they can provide, but it's just not the same, you know? 

Anywaaaay, back to the show. Lily Collins stars as the titular Emily, a woman who works for a marketing firm in Chicago but is dispatched to Paris when they acquire a smaller French marketing firm. She is ostensibly sent over to provide "an American point of view." No points for guessing how her Parisian colleagues feel about that. In fact, the entire show could probably be used by US HR departments as a sexual harassment in the workplace seminar, given the amount of snark this lady has to put up with when she arrives. It is all terrifically over-the-top and stereotypical. Are the French rude? Yes. Would they at least know to behave themselves around the American who has been sent over from their corporate overlords? Damn straight, they're not idiots. For her part, Emily is also the stereotypical American, unable to speak a word of French, forever Instagramming (which is actually part of her job, so is slightly more forgivable), always upbeat, and somehow completely incapable of comprehending the notion of a Ground Floor. Americans, is this really such a difficult concept for you to grasp? 

Putting all the stereotypes aside, this show is a fizzy delight that goes down as smoothly as a glass of Moet & Chandon. The costume department deserves especial kudos because I wanted to buy every single outfit I saw on screen, and lord knows, I am not a fashionista (I definitely did not want the shoes though. Were they pretty? Yes. Did the notion of wearing high heels on cobblestones make my ankles hurt? You bet.) And of course, there's a gorgeous Parisian chef named Gabriel (played by an actor named Lucas Bravo - yes, his last name is literally Bravo) who is oh-so-easy on the eyes. I didn't know what I wanted to eat up more: him or his delicious omelets. 

Emily in Paris is escapist, mindless, splendidly silly fare. Also, its creator is Darren Star, who created Sex and the City, and he won't let you forget that for long. Each episode often starts out feeling like something you would watch on the CW, and then all of a sudden a character says or does something so raunchy that you are rapidly reminded this is on Netflix. Collins is a wonderful actress who plays the young ingenue to perfection but is never too wearyingly Pollyanna-ish to get on your nerves. Of course, she IS a former model, and given the way she dresses and carries herself, it's a bit hard to buy the whole "clueless hick from Chicago" routine, but that's TV for you. Escape into this world, experience a great deal of FOMO that you aren't in France, and join me in fantasizing about all the places you'll go the minute you are allowed to travel again.