It seems all too on the nose that the first episode of Emily in Paris’ third season would immediately bring McDonald’s into the formulaic equation. After all, the show has been unapologetic from the start about being a “background noise” series. Something a viewer can put on without worrying about actually having to pay much attention to it or really even “think” at all. As if thinking is much of a phenomenon anymore. And no one that fully “gives in” to the series is going to be pondering too much about why most everyone views Emily Cooper (Lily Collins) as some kind of otherworldly social media marketing deity (to paraphrase Heath Ledger’s Patrick Verona in 10 Things I Hate About You, “What is it with this chick? She have Kir Royal-flavored nipples?”). Sure, there are a few digs at her here and there, but usually only by older women or “queens on the rag” (as Madonna once said). In short, she’s a patriarchal wet dream posing as a “progressive woman of the future.”
This “threat” she poses to older women (and gays) is also an element that presents itself right out the gate in episode one, when Emily’s Chicago boss, Madeline (Kate Walsh), who swooped in at the end of season two to complicate matters for Emily and her French boss, Sylvie Grateau (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu, the poor man’s Isabelle Huppert), remains at large in the Savoir office. Having driven away all the French staff simply by being there and somehow being more offensively American than Emily. Plagued with the choice between staying loyal to Madeline and taking an offer from Sylvie to work at the new company she’s established after quitting Savoir and freeing herself from Madeline’s corporate America-inspired hell, Emily has a nightmare. Not just figuratively. And it’s one where she’s on top of the Eiffel Tower (because a cliché in the first minute is essential) in a wannabe Cher Horowitz number (of which there will be many throughout the season) before Madeline appears to ask, “Who would actually be stupid enough to hire you in Paris?” The answer being: anyone. After all, “cute” waifs are accepted and embraced everywhere, regardless of “skill,” but most especially à Paris. This is why Lily Collins has been styled, unfortunately, as some kind of “modern replacement” for Audrey Hepburn (as if).
The overt “nightmare” sequence eventually gives viewers their own wet dream of Emily falling off the Eiffel Tower. Alas, she wakes up safely and “cutely” in her so-called chambre de bonne. She also magically gives herself a “cute” new haircut to amplify her sense of having an identity crisis, arbitrarily snip-snip-snipping some new bangs that just so happen to look professionally done while sitting at a café with Mindy (Ashley Park). Later, she also insists to Gabriel (Lucas Bravo), “Sometimes people cut bangs when everything’s fine!”
Of course, if this were the show that Emily in Paris is riffing off of, Sex and the City, Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) would end up with a very shitty hairstyle indeed, not an automatic blowout-looking coif. This bare minimum amount of “realism” (to the extent that a show that glamorizes a city can be “real”) was made obvious in plot points of SATC episodes like “They Shoot Single People, Don’t They?,” wherein Carrie stays out all night before attending a photoshoot for a theoretical story called “Single and Fabulous!” that turns into “Single and Fabulous?” in part thanks to the resulting trainwreck images of Carrie looking très heroin chic. Emily could never. She’s far too put-together, far too perfect… even when she’s “fucking up.” Presented more as “elegant neuroticism” with unforeseen after effects on other people. Which usually just means doing her job “too well.”
This becomes a severe source of jealousy for Julien (Samuel Arnold), one of Emily’s “supporting” co-workers, apart from Luc (Bruno Gouery, who was faring better, credibility-wise, on season two of The White Lotus). A green-eyed monster that becomes more of an “issue” as the season wears on. Perhaps that’s why being a freelance writer is the best bet for a Type A personality like Emily’s, so blithely oblivious to the fact that she’s hardly a “team player” despite living for the office life. Carrie was never that pathetic, at least not in work matters. Which brings us to show creator Darren Star’s obvious attempt at a resuscitation of Carrie as a millennial in a “less harsh” city. After all, millennials are purported to be unable to “deal” with harshness. So, needless to say, 2020s Paris “had to” be presented in an even more sanitized way than late 90s/early 00s New York (which is at least poked fun at with constant digs at then-mayor Rudy Giuliani). Otherwise, this twig wouldn’t be able to handle it, and “comedy” would quickly give way to a tragedy.
Instead, the only tragedy that exists in the universe of Emily in Paris is being unable to access processed American foods. Ergo Madeline telling Emily, “I found Fritos in France, don’t ask. Definitely black market.” Or you can actually find them in many chip aisles. As for the love triangle trope Star has been fond of on many of his shows (including Beverly Hills, 90210 and Melrose Place), it continues to be alive and well in the third season, with Emily still going through the motions with Alfie (Lucien Laviscount), the British banker she met in season two during French class. Of course, her “true” love remains Gabriel, despite Camille (Camille Razat) having broken their pact not to pursue him for the sake of their throuple-y friendship by reinserting her hooks into him in season two.
But Camille, in the early episodes of season three, is the least of Emily’s worries as she attempts the obvious fail of juggling two “at odds” (as opposed to just odd) jobs for warring bosses. Her stronger loyalty remains with Sylvie despite Madeline having “shepherded” Emily’s career. This much is made apparent when her Chicago ex, Doug (Roe Hartrampf), calls her out of the blue tell her that 1) he’s the Associate Manager of Global Partnerships for McDonald’s and 2) he wants to hand her McDonald’s, which conveniently happens to be looking for a marketing agency in France to helm the rollout of their new product, the McBaguette. A product that’s already been known to make occasional appearances on the French McDonald’s (a horrible oxymoron) menu since 2012. But, as viewers know by now, adhering to “accuracy” has never been Emily in Paris’ strong suit.
In that spirit of false accuracy, the first thing Emily says when Gabriel takes her to a McDonald’s to prove to her that is can be “luxurious,” thus pitchable to Sylvie, who has already turned down the very thought (despite having no secure clients of her own just yet), is: “This is so chic.” Even in spite of the noticeable spartan, “Scandi-esque” design (a.k.a an absence of design). And sure, it’s “chic.” Compared to an American McDonald’s, anything else comes across that way. What’s more, because it’s the Champs Elysées edition of the McDonald’s, not, say, the Boulevard Saint-Michel or République one. Really licking the corporation’s asshole further in the dialogue, she chirps, “It’s still McDonald’s, but it’s adapted to the French culture.” Okay bitch, whatever you say. For it’s tantamount to insisting that Emily in Paris is Sex and the City adapted to French culture, which is clearly part of why the series has been successful. People are still searching for that lightning in a bottle moment that occurred with actually adapting Candace Bushnell’s book (as opposed to McDonald’s to French culture), a collection of her columns from The New York Observer that ran from 1994 to 1996.
In the time since its runaway success (and becoming more associated in people’s minds as being a show than a book), Bushnell added an introduction to the work that states, “Although the column was originally meant to pertain specifically to New York City… I’ve found that there are variants of these Sex and the City characters in most large cities around the world.” Including, bien sûr, Paris—a hub of distraction and chaos long before NY. And that’s what Star was banking on with Emily in Paris. A “fast food” version of Sex and the City. Which is particularly unsavory to say now that the latter show has aged with such cringe-y signs of decay. As Emily in Paris invariably will (and already has, thanks to Mindy using hopelessly outmoded terms like, “Isn’t a little late for you be girlbossin’?”). The difference being that it’s far more unrepentant about stereotyping and exclusion (the only two front-and-center [ish] Black characters, Julien and Alfie, being part of decided B plots) because it exists in a time, unlike SATC, when a flagrant lack of representation in a major metropolitan city is more scandalous than ever. And, in a city like Paris, there’s a far wider range of demography than Emily in Paris would like to let on.
On that note, adding to the stereotype of all French people being existential “depressives,” Emily’s French teacher is sure to paraphrase Sartre when telling her, “Even not choosing has consequences, so it’s still a choice.” For the “layered” meaning of Emily not being able to pick a job side also extends to her love life (a.k.a. the same old song we’ve been seeing since season one). Then there is the omnipresent cliché of Never Not Walking in the Jardin des Tuileries. Or showing the same stock footage of the city in a makeshift “Ray of Light” video fashion. All designed to paint a varnished portrait of the city by mere virtue of constantly showing a Notre-Dame that isn’t still under construction. And yes, if the camera actually slowed down long enough during these stock scenes, sooner or later, it might actually rain (as it does most every day in Paris). Or—gasp!—a homeless person might appear to demand money from a very rich-seeming Emily. Certainly too rich for someone working her job. But again, that was the oft-lobbied criticism at Carrie’s lifestyle and wardrobe in Sex and the City, with the dismissive argument being that viewers of this genre are hardly concerned with such “trivial” realities. They can get all the reality they want in their day-to-day anyway.
Which is why all the girls (and some boys) want to swoon at Alfie’s continued presence in episode two, “What It’s All About.” For we’re briefly led to believe it might actually be over when Emily keeps acting like a disinterested cunt toward him. Something Carrie also frequently did with her own “second-in-command” love interest, Aidan (John Corbett). Making Gabriel the much more genteel “Mr. Big” (Chris Noth) of the operation.
Something that isn’t lost on the occasionally perceptive Alfie as he starts to box her out during a texting jag that features the vexatious playing of “Zou Bisou Bisou”—as if that song could ever be taken away from Meghan (Jessica Paré) in Mad Men, iconic moment-wise.
Other moments certain writers thought would go unnoticed re: taking just “a little bit” pertain once more to Sex and the City, specifically when Emily insists she’s “putting [her]self out there” with Alfie. It channels the season five episode of SATC, “Unoriginal Sin,” when Charlotte (Kristin Davis) drags Carrie to a self-help seminar where the lecturer tells Charlotte the reason she hasn’t attracted a man is because, “Perhaps you’re not really putting yourself out there.” Just as Emily isn’t with Alfie, which is exactly what he tells her over lunch. Emily, in turn, informs Mindy, “He said he felt like he put himself out there and I didn’t reciprocate.” “Well, you didn’t,” Mindy confirms. Unlike Carrie, who stands by Charlotte telling the lecturer she has put herself out there, repeatedly. Carrie protectively adds, “Believe me, she’s out there.” To our dismay, Emily finally trying to do just that means uncomfortable a capella singing at the end of episode two that offers a callback to the song Mindy mentioned earlier, Dionne Warwick’s “Alfie” (though the British Cilla Black made it famous for the movie of the same name first).
With her love life theoretically “sorted,” episode three, “Coo D’état,” forces Emily to really assess what she wants her life to be when faced with the prospect of having to go back to Chicago in order to keep any kind of job. And even Emily can’t deal with the idea of living in America anymore as she looks out wistfully at the Eiffel Tower and tells Madeline firmly, “No.” She will not go back. In contrast to Carrie being only too happy to abandon Paris for the U.S. again (because, yes, as much as New Yorkers hate to be reminded, New York is America). Her decision, hélas, means being unemployed, with Sylvie having booted her out of what is now Agence Grateau upon unearthing her double agent shtick. But unemployment is presented in that unrealistic way that Emily in Paris has gotten down to a science. So it is that we enter episode four, “Live From Paris, It’s Emily Cooper,” in which we’re posed with the question: why look for a job when one could go live on Instagram and lord being in Paris over everyone who isn’t? Clearly spending a fuck-ton of money while being “funemployed” (another dated term on par with “girlboss”). And, to boot, ingesting all the fatty things that we’re expected to believe a waif can handle without ever gaining an ounce.
In the same episode, the location choices are milked a bit more (you know, apart from the Tuileries and the stock footage of the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe) when Emily goes on a picnic outing to Bois de Vincennes with Alfie. Now employed as Antoine’s (William Abadie, who also appeared in Sex and the City as Tony the Prada sales associate) CFO, he has more than just Emily as a reason to stay in Paris. As for her own schedule of daily “fun,” she admits to Luc and Julien, “I keep busy to keep from going insane.” Said like a true American having a meltdown in the wake of Covid restrictions that highlighted most work as irrelevant. But naturally, this is just the “filler time” (as if the entire series isn’t) before Sylvie comes crawling back to her. This being exactly what happens by the start of episode five, “Ooo La La Liste.”
With the midpoint of the season comes more love triangles apart from just Emily’s. All of which come to light at a housewarming party for Alfie, who would be one of those finance bros that contributed to ruining Canal St. Martin by living near Rue Legouvé. And, of course, he has a “sick” rooftop, where Camille brings the Greek artist, Sofia (Melia Kreiling), she’s been promoting at her gallery. Not just to flaunt the “views,” but to indulge in the spark that Sofia’s been cultivating between them. When Emily tries to bring Alfie up there for a little “session” of their own, she catches sight of Camille’s makeout tryst and runs back down. This being another type of key differentiation between Emily in Paris and Sex and the City. For the former is about a millennial twit (being passed off as “winsome”) and the latter is about a group of slightly more sophisticated women with far less puerile reactions (usually…). Not to mention the overall tone becoming even more soap operatic this season.
To that point, Mindy’s own love triangle begins at this housewarming party as well, with her attraction to the head of JVMA, Nicolas de Leon (Paul Forman), catching the alarmed attention of Mindy’s boyfriend and bandmate, Benoît (Kevin Dias). No matter, for Nicolas will make his move elsewhere… like at the hotel party he invites Emily and Mindy to for a new sunblock brand JVMA is promoting, Soleil de Paris (and no, “Sun of Paris” doesn’t sound like a great name for a sunblock, considering the polluted Paris air quality that makes for pretty powerless UV ray penetration).
It is here that Emily’s “genius” is once again showcased in that she has no “off” switch when it comes to “brilliant” marketing and synergy ideas. One supposes such “brilliance” is tantamount to Carrie constantly writing the same phrase repeatedly in her work (i.e., “I couldn’t help but wonder…”). Indeed, in Emily’s charmed, Carrie-reminiscent world where everything comes up roses no matter how average you are, she can get a DJ to play a song without issue. A song, to be sure, that will have the crowd instantaneously dancing (side note: only Madonna could achieve that in real life with her “Everybody” demo tape). Specifically, to Mindy’s song, “Mon Soleil.” The one that Emily thinks would be perfect for a Soleil de Paris commercial. Benoît, not so much. Especially since his insecurity is already raging over Mindy getting a solo singing gig at a “jazz” club (the nonexistent La Trompette Bleue). If by “jazz” what is meant is posing as people like Dua Lipa and Lady Gaga whilst singing their songs (“Don’t Start Now” and “Shallow”) like it’s karaoke hour.
By episode six, “Ex-En-Provence,” things have gotten stale enough to require yet another out-of-town jaunt, as was the case in season one with “Family Affair” and season two with “Do You Know the Way to St. Tropez?” An episode where a lot of Sophie’s mystery was debunked in that viewers learned she has a husband named Laurent (Arnaud Binard), who comes into play here as well—when he and Sylvie have a little Showgirls pool moment. In fact, that might be the closest thing to Sex and the City-level “steam” we get, with Emily being more Charlotte than Carrie on the prude front (even if the latter was about on par for as willing as SJP was to do sex scenes).
What comes next is an episode that exists seemingly only to pay homage to a 2003 rom-com—which is why it’s titled “How to Lose a Designer in 10 Days.” So it is that the scene opens on a returning Grégory Duprée (Jeremy O. Harris, who has also been willing to debase himself by appearing on the rebooted Gossip Girl). Better known as Pierre Cadault’s (Jean-Christophe Bouvet) rival. Except, once more, he is trying to gain his own spotlight by presenting a line of speculative flight attendant uniforms for Air France. This prompting him to rip off Janet Jackson’s mantra about control and wield Gaultier-“inspired” cone bras (Madonna’s trademark) in the same fashion show. Sylvie, quelle surprise, doesn’t find the pitch very charmant. Which is why Emily pawns off one of the discarded designs on Mindy, whose looking for the perfect “statement piece” for a would-be date with Nicolas at La Villette to see a movie. The movie they see is, naturally, How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days, starring Britney Spears’ ultimate girl crush, Kate Hudson. And yes, Britney gets name-checked when Mindy takes the flight attendant uniform into her hands and notes to a typically judgmental Emily, “Oh, what, you don’t think Britney looks iconic in her ‘Toxic’ video?”
Mindy also throws in a direct Charlotte York quote from season three’s “Politically Erect” when she says, “One airline’s trash is another woman’s treasure” (for Charlotte, it’s, “One woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure”). The “subtle” SATC correlations don’t stop there when the “he’s just not that into you” mantra (popularized in the “Pick-a-Little, Talk-a-Little” episode of Sex and the City) rears it head. That is, when Emily asks Gabriel, “So what’s the verdict? Is Nicolas into Mindy or no?” Gabriel takes the Berger (Ron Livingston) stance by responding, “Sadly, I think not. He would have at least tried to kiss her if he was.”
Fortunately, for people who like rich douchebags, it’s very apparent he is into Mindy, a plot that thickens in episode eight, “Fashion Victim.” Wherein Mindy increasingly embodies the “outrageous” Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) “sidekick” role with her outfit choices. But then, what else is to be expected when Patricia Field (a.k.a. SATC’s beloved costume designer) is responsible for the ensemble choices? On a side note, Cattrall did show up to the premiere of Emily in Paris, proving there’s still at least one Darren Star-created show she actually supports.
The ninth episode, “Love is in the Air,” underscores the tension between Emily and Nicolas, remaining at a lingering fever pitch after she humiliated him at a launch party where he intended to announce Grégory Duprée as Pierre Cadault’s “replacement.” That is to say, the new creative director of the Cadault brand. Being hopelessly devoted to the old codger, Agence Grateau schemes to steal the spotlight in such a way so that no announcement—other than the fact that Pierre is still alive—will matter.
Such tensions between Mindy’s best friend and boyfriend prompt the latter to strongarm her into leaving a celebratory party for Mindy. One in which “the Eurotrash woman” a.k.a. Amalita from “The Power of Female Sex” episode of Sex and the City is brought back to congratulate Mindy on her last performance at the venue (Mindy tells Emily she has no idea who that woman is). And if it’s not really Carole Davis, then it’s definitely someone who looks and sounds like they studied Amalita’s character very closely.
The lone episode actually penned by Star, “Charade,” is its finale. And more than having a “SATC feel,” it has the soap opera-y vibe of his 90s staples. All thanks to the hackneyed maneuver of someone abandoning someone else at the altar and a pregnancy cliffhanger (best wielded in Issa Rae’s hands on Insecure), as if having someone’s baby is enough to lock them down anymore.
Once called “rom-com fantasy at its finest,” Emily in Paris is anything but that, intent to render itself more frivolous melodrama than rom-com with each passing season. For there are fewer and fewer moments that could even be vaguely billed as “laugh out loud.” Not the way Sex and the City was, particularly in instances of slapstick (e.g. “The Real Me”).
In this regard (ringarde?) and so many others, the McDonald’s edition of SATC can’t measure up to the cultural clout of SATC itself. Fittingly enough, Bushnell also wrote in her post-TV series adaptation introduction to the book, “…even Mr. Big himself points out that he is a fantasy in Carrie’s imagination, and that you can’t love a fantasy.” This being exactly why it’s impossible for any reasonable viewer to “love” Emily in Paris. It’s just way too much hooey. And not only is it a fantasy, it’s yet another white male fantasy. One that only ends up talking down to women rather than “representing” them. Because for as “career-driven” as Emily is, it’s obvious her ultimate aim is finding monogamous, Disney fairy tale love.
But even Bushnell had to remark of Carrie (the non-needy literary version of her anyway), “And so we leave Carrie to enter a new phase in her life when she understands that she will have to find herself (without a man)…” With this in mind, Star, faithful to the SATC template that served him well, will probably offer a season four (because Netflix isn’t letting this cash cow die) plot that features Emily trying to do the same. That is, before landing on Gabriel’s dick again the way Carrie eventually “had to” with Big.
