‘Emily in Paris’ Season 3 review: A beautiful, shallow confection full of joie de vivre

Lily Collins in ‘Emily in Paris’

Marylin Fitoussi, the designer for Emily’s (Lily Collins) eye-watering wardrobe, gives sound advice on how to watch this divisive rom-com about an American marketing executive in Paris. Fitoussi, who is working solo on this season after collaborating with the venerable Patricia Fields ( Sex and the City, The Devil Wears Prada) on season one and two, says she imbued Fields’ “don’t care about reality” motto.

And that is how one needs to approach this show; not as a nuanced look at the Other, or an socio-anthropological study, or even as a black satire (verily a mission impossible) but as a beautiful, shallow confection. And if you feel slightly sick with all the empty calories, then you can always consume bread-and-water documentaries for a bit.

Emily is still caught between two men—the dreamy British banker Alfie (Lucien Laviscount) who she met in French class and the dreamier Gabriel (Lucas Bravo), her neighbour and chef. She is also caught between two bosses, tough-as-nails Sylvie (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu), and Madeline (Kate Walsh) and two cities — Paris and probably London.

Estranged Singapore heiress Mindy (Ashley Park), Emily’s first friend in Paris, gets a break to sing in an exclusive jazz club; the invitation, however does not extend to her band. She also meets a friend from her boarding school days, Nicolas (Paul Forman), who now takes care of the family business. Both developments make her singer-songwriter boyfriend Benoît (Kevin Dias) desperately unhappy.

A trip to Provence makes Gabriel rethink his priorities, while a visiting Greek artist gives Gabriel’s girlfriend Camille (Camille Razat), cause to think of the direction she wishes her life to take. Emily’s co-workers Julien (Samuel Arnold) and Luc (Bruno Gouery) continue to be tres droll.  

There is joie de vivre in the way the show wades into cliché that is somehow endearing. Of course you know Paris is not all beauty, light and romance, but it is not such a crime to indulge in some superficial wish fulfilment. We are hardly the last word in authenticity while portraying foreigners and how many times has the Taj Mahal, some random sand dune, or stepwell been the short hand for India? On the other hand do we really want to see the interminable gridlock on Silk Road Junction as a signifier for Bengaluru?

The fashion in Emily in Paris, as always, has had lots of internet chatter, including Emily’s clothes being inspired by Alia Bhatt and Katrina Kaif. While some of Mindy’s couture choices skate awfully close to bad taste and sometimes take the plunge (that skin-coloured one with strategic swirls of fabric for sure) and quite a few of Emily’s choices might induce retinal fatigue (shiny shorts, lime-green knee-boots teamed with a multi-coloured jumper), there are also sweet sundresses, polka-dotted frocks and jolly peek-a-boo options. Incidentally, the boots cost $1,295. Do not wonder how a mid-level exec can afford haute couture… we are not doing realism remember?

Like Starr’s Sex and the City, Emily in Paris has a very precise mission statement: labels, love and privilege served in bite-size, tasty morsels. If this is your thing, you could indulge and if not, move on to the next thing already.   

Emily in Paris is currently streaming on Netflix