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Behind the Scenes of Emily in Paris, TV’s Guiltiest Pleasure

‘Do you want to see H&M clothes on screen? I don’t’ … Emily in Paris. Composite: Illustrations: Helen Green; photography: Marie Etchegoyen/Netflix; Stephanie Branchu/Netflix

When Emily in Paris first appeared on TV screens during the pandemic winter of 2020, it was like a burst of color in a dull, prolonged dinner party. There was an excitement about this show created by Darren Star, famous for Sex and the City. The storyline follows a young woman from Chicago, played by Lily Collins, who moves to Paris to work at a PR firm, only to offend her French colleagues with her Midwest cheer and American work ethic.

The show faced heavy criticism and social media backlash. Viewers couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the plot: Emily becomes a successful influencer by posting trivial photos like “When you dropped your crêpe, #ohcrêpe” and seeing Paris through an exaggerated, stereotypical lens full of clichés, pastries, and hot chefs. One particularly divisive aspect was her fashion—bright and garish, with one Vogue writer stating, “The way her ensembles are put together cheese-grates my eyes.”

Despite its flaws, I loved the show. After months of Covid isolation, Emily in Paris felt like a comforting escape with its bright pastels, fairy-tale cobblestone streets, and glowing depiction of a city bathed in light. There was something refreshing about a main character who moved through life with breezy self-confidence, winning over clients and becoming a minor celebrity without breaking a sweat. The show offered a form of delusional yet sublime escapism, reminiscent of self-affirmation clips telling you the world is safe and wonderful, a comforting lie many were willing to indulge in.

As work began on season two in 2021, rumors of a new British character spurred amusing speculations among my friends about the stereotypical portrayals. An Oxford Ph.D. studying Keats? A dreamy aristocrat overly attached to his nanny? A damaged public schoolboy ignored by his politically connected father? We envisioned all kinds of caricatures. I was eager to see how the show would handle this new storyline.

After repeated attempts to arrange a set visit, Netflix finally granted me the opportunity. On a rainy April morning, I arrived at a sprawling filming complex on the outskirts of Paris. Hope persisted. Arriving at the set of Emily’s office, adorned in mid-century millennial style with pastel pinks, dusty mauve, and gold furnishings, the day had yet to start. I was among journalists with varied motives—some there to cover the event, others, like me, fulfilling a long-held fascination.

French cinema is all about three people, bored and depressed. So when someone says, ‘Let’s make people dream,’ I love that.

Marylin Fitoussi

One of the earliest criticisms hit on the show’s stereotypical portrayal of French culture: the French were depicted as tardy, scandalous, and the men were overly sexualized. Emily’s boss, Sylvie, epitomized this, declining lunch for just a cigarette. Yet on set, the melding of American production with local French crew seemed to blend cultures seamlessly. The French crew members were fully engaged with the American fantasy the show projected.

Marylin Fitoussi, the show’s costume designer, highlighted this dream-like quality, saying French cinema often focuses on stark reality. “When someone says to me, ‘I don’t care about reality, let’s make people dream,’ I love that.” Fitoussi embraced the fantastical, vibrant wardrobe with pride, dismissing critics with, “Do you want to see H&M clothes on screen? This show is made for entertainment.”

During our visit, Star justified the polarized reactions, noting that Parisians might not see the fantasy in their daily lives. To them, Paris is not the idyllic dream but everyday reality, while the show offers a romanticized outsider’s view. This unapologetic approach is evident across Star’s career, from Beverly Hills 90210 to Younger, blending a female-centric perspective with generous doses of wit and fantasy.

At last, we met Lily Collins, who in her character’s elaborate ensemble, radiated cheer and politeness. She acknowledges the varied reactions, focusing on the positive responses from Parisians themselves. Collins pointed out that the more people watched, the more they recognized the show’s self-awareness—Emily is in on her own joke.

Would we enjoy Emily trying to be cool or edgy? One of the show’s greatest charms is watching young characters behave in delightfully ridiculous ways without trying to prove themselves. Emily in Paris sees the world as a place full of possibilities, a playground, rather than an oppressive environment. It manages this joyful naivety while being unaware of the online world’s harsh realities—making it endearingly corny.

The many lavish sets—including Emily’s conspicuously luxurious apartment—and the elaborate product placements underscore the show’s commitment to excess and fantasy. Filming a scene at the PR office, we witnessed the meticulous, repetitive process of creating a polished final product on screen.

Our last interactions with cast members Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu and Bruno Gouery provided insights into local attitudes toward the show. Leroy-Beaulieu conveyed that while French audiences initially had reservations, many came to appreciate the show’s humor and charm over time.

As I left the studio complex that evening, reflecting on the grey Paris streets compared to Emily’s dreamlike Paris, I wondered how long the fantasy could last. Collins hinted at an even brighter and bolder season ahead, while Star envisioned more seasons. Personally, I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Emily in Paris season four airs on Netflix on 15 August.

Source: Helen Green, Marie Etchegoyen/Netflix, Stephanie Branchu/Netflix