In a series called Mondo Appropriato, Culled Culture examines how “on the nose” something is in the pop cultural and/or political landscape.
As the Olympic games kick off this weekend, it bears noting that, thus far, the most “iconic” thing about it has been Sabrina Carpenter’s somewhat random promotion for the event (sorry, Paris Hilton). While, sure, positioning her in a Parisian café (which is probably just a backlot in Burbank) drinking espresso makes sense because of her hit single of the same name, it really doesn’t have much pertinence apart from that. Nonetheless, the setup is that Carpenter is reading a newspaper (because, apparently, that’s how “quaint” Americans think Paris is) at an outdoor table when an animated blue bird (one that looks not unlike the former Twitter logo) flies to Carpenter’s table and starts chirping at her.
Rather than being annoyed or frightened, Carpenter is apparently so keyed up on espresso that she now has the ability to speak “Bird,” responding, “Well hello there, handsome.” The bird chirps again. “Why yes, I am Sabrina Carpenter.” Chirp chirp. “Oh thank you, so nice to meet a fan.” Chirp chirp. “Okay, settle down. We just met.” Chirp chirp. “What am I doing in Paris? Isn’t it obvious? The Olympics.” Chirp chirp. “The amazing opening ceremony on the Seine, Simone’s epic comeback, the USA-Australia rivalry in the pool and the world’s fastest man and woman, Noah [Lyles] and Sha’Carri (Richardson), racing for Team USA—I’ve never been more excited for anything in my life.” She’s obviously not counting every time Barry Keoghan drops trou.
The bird, now standing in between six cups of espresso after listening to her one-woman rant, starts chirping more frenetically than ever, prompting Carpenter to smilingly say, “You need to behave yourself,” laughingly adding, “You’re crazy!” But, of course, the only crazy one in this scenario is her, as she’s having both visual and auditory hallucinations (the latter tends to be more common when it comes to imbibing too much espresso). Thanks to what, a few paltry cups of espresso? Of course, that notion doesn’t help to debunk the stereotype that most Europeans already have about Americans when it comes to coffee: that they’re little bitches who can’t handle their caffeine and wouldn’t know what good café tasted like if Alfonso Bialetti himself poured it down their throats. Their “precious” constitutions apparently limited only to being able to withstand high amounts of processed foods (including, of course, burgers, fries and hot dogs). And beer. But not even the hearty German shit—just the watered-down Millers and Buds they knock back without a second thought (the same goes for American coffee portions, which, although offering more in quantity, are never as effective as the small, undiluted cups that Europeans drink—hence, the American inability to “withstand” them, as they insist they’re getting “high”).
Watching Carpenter “hallucinate” on this drug—and yes, it is arguably the world’s most socially acceptable one apart from the internet—it’s not as though the premise is totally unbelievable. Especially since people who suffer from stress already are more prone to being affected by some of the more profound side effects of caffeine. And what could be more stressful than being a famous singer?—particularly a famous female singer who has to worry about what she looks like all the time, lest an unflattering image makes the cut for internet immortality. Plus, she also has to work late (therefore, needs the caffeine to stay up, n’est-ce pas?). So, bottom line: stress. And for once, the pay grade actually matches the stress level. Which is why Carpenter taking un petit coffee break is simultaneously healing and hurting. Indeed, a better concept for her would have been to spoof the cardboard beds in the Olympic Village with “Please Please Please,” performing the same kind of “acrobatic” (that’s code for: kama sutra-related) moves that many of the athletes have been testing out for themselves on social media to see if the beds can withstand certain, let’s say, “rigorous” nighttime activities.
Unfortunately, she went for the less tailored, more random option (if this were an Olympics in Italy, then, sure, playing up the “Espresso” angle would make more sense, but Paris doesn’t exactly have a renowned reputation for the beverage in such a way). And so, as she giggles to herself thinking that she’s giggling with a bird, the camera then pans out to show two waiters, one of whom tells the other in French, “I think she’s had enough espresso.” Additional translation: “Stop giving the dainty American the ‘hard’ stuff she can’t handle.” Unless you want a lawsuit on your hands because they find you responsible for giving too much of what they specifically asked for. After all, that’s that them Americans.
