Emily in Paris: the show that’s as divisive as pineapple on pizza. You either find yourself binge-watching it with a vat of cheese puffs by your side, or spending evenings crafting angry tweets about its questionable fashion choices and Emily’s uncanny ability to be condescending as it’s their excuse to make a flawed character. The internet is a warzone of opinions, with some folks frothing at the mouth about the show’s “problematic” portrayal of French people and the sheer amount of berets per square foot. But here’s the thing: despite the hate brigade, there seems to be a silent army of viewers who secretly (or not-so-secretly) adore Emily’s self destructive antics and the show’s escapist charm. After all, Netflix wouldn’t have renewed it to completion if nobody was watching, right? Think of it like Max subscribers who claims to despise Velma but somehow knows every single plot twist of the new Scooby-Doo spinoff. There’s a certain allure to hate-watching, and Emily in Paris seems to have mastered that art.Love it
