Why We Love Hate-Watching Emily In Paris

An opinion piece, to be taken with a grain of humour

Photo by Earth on Unsplash

I watched the first season with gleeful disgust. My emotions were very polarised at any given point of watch. Yet I kept going. I recently resumed season 2 and will probably finish the whole thing. I still hate it.

I also discovered other hate watchers like me: Parisians, people living in France or anyone with a functioning brain really. But, I was also perplexed: why are we doing this to ourselves?

So I am going into exploratory mode and trying to understand why I am inflicting this upon myself. Before the dive into my self-diagnosis….

a word of warning: All opinions expressed are purely my own. I welcome any agreement to disagree. I was trying not to give spoilers, which might have been an epic fail on my part.

So minor spoilers ahead.

What’s wrong with the world?

Emily in Paris should have been called Emily in a Parisian summer. Nobody is ever cold or has their hair blown away by a strong gust of wind. It only rains on cue for intense romantic moments: where a dramatic staring contest is going to play out between lovebirds, usually between Emily and Gabriel.