Emily in Paris: Five reasons why it’s just so unbelievable

Emily in Paris is enjoyable, but it couldn’t be more unrealistic.

It’s time for a confession. I actually liked Emily in Paris on Netflix. The mindless fun formula is pretty obvious from about two minutes into the first episode, and I’m alright with that. T

hat’s not to say there aren’t glaring issues, however, with a majority of the writing. It’s so ridiculously unrealistic.

So ignore the haterade for a minute and just hear me out. There are plenty of reasons why Emily in Paris – regardless of how you are supposed to say it – is difficult to swallow, and borderline dunce cap stupid.

Learn the language, please.

Let’s be real. Emily took the job in Paris, was woefully unprepared in a variety of ways, but knowing nothing but “Au revoir” before boarding the plane is just unacceptable. It’s downright ignorant. The minute she realized she’d be on an extended tour of Paris, working with actual French people in a legit French marketing firm with significant clout and reputation, she should have been enrolled in French 101.

Someone could literally watch a couple of episodes of Pepé Le Pew sexually harassing a fleeing cat and learn more French than Emily managed to absorb before presumptuously jumping on a plane as if merde wasn’t about to hit the proverbial fan. How Rosetta Stone wasn’t inserted for product placement purposes is beyond me.

To put it quite bluntly, the whole thing lacks a little je ne sais quoi. Oh, wait, forget that; it’s just devoid of realism. Emily was woefully unprepared to speak the language, but she remembered to pack 38 pairs of fuchsia, honeydew, and lime green boots. Riiight.

Where are the normal dudes?

Everyone she runs into is a titan in their field. We get it. Everyone is Mr. Big. World class chef. Fashion giants galore. Wine entrepreneurs. Those are getting struck-by-lightning-while-buying-the-winning-lottery-ticket odds. Next season, she’ll probably have a fling with a brain surgeon and Jeff Bezos.

Lily Collins is gorgeous. Every other man in Paris would be hitting on her. It would be perpetual. Speaking of dudes…

The vineyard romp & question

Emily is a beautiful main character with unrealistically impeccable style and a bubbly personality. She’s incredibly easy to like. Cheering for her is low hanging fruit. Moths to a flame. But facts are facts: she had sex with an underage guy. Not only did the family not have a problem with it, but her friends were fine with it as well. Seriously?

I don’t care what the age of consent is in France, her unfiltered promiscuity would have been received quite a bit differently if Emily was a guy. Emile in Paris would have been canceled and the actor playing Emile would have been blackballed unless his name rhymed with Shmolansky.

This goes without saying, but in what world would it be realistic for a mother to ask a young woman she just met about the sexual prowess of her aforementioned son? Not only son, but not-yet-adult-son. Gimme a break, Emily in Paris.

Social media stardom

Emily’s Instagram is basic. What’s the word? Ringarde. Her rise to social media stardom in a country she doesn’t know is just plain stupid. It’s lazy. She posts a picture of a rose and suddenly she has 500 followers.

Throw in a few one-liners so obvious that people shocked during their fourth viewing of Titanic could have posted the same thing, and voila she’s an influencer. Everything she posts is a blend of cliché and banal.

Yet, for every post, she essentially gets a thousand followers – even if a majority were piggy-backed after Brigitte Macron gave her a retweet – which is functioning-McDonald’s-ice-cream-machine unlikely.

The flat

Anyone who has lived in Europe knows her apartment is stupid. An old maid’s quarters would be like a broom closet. This is the straw that broke the camel’s back. Pure Disneyland stuff for American women who still talk to each other about Sex in the City.

Will you tune in for more exaggeration, stereotypes, and tourism brochure content in Emily in Paris Season 2?