We Need to Stop Hate Watching Shows Like Emily in Paris
It’s ruining more than our brain cells
“Fool me once, shame on thee; fool me twice, shame on me”
Binging the second season of Emily in Paris felt like wearing a victorian corset, slowly tightening around my waist, chafing my ribs, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. But I couldn’t take it off.
Some compared this series to a guilty pleasure, but to me, this experience didn’t feel like eating a tub of Haagen-Dazs’s Belgian chocolate ice cream, which I might regret the following day. Instead, it felt like eating expired food from a poorly constructed takeout container.
While I got vertigo from the fast-moving transition shots of gorgeously lit Paris, I so wished that they would take a campy or self-aware take, making it more bearable to watch. I wondered if I was being too harsh or projecting my own issues on it, but I wasn’t.
I couldn’t come up with a good reason explaining why I watched this season. I already knew it was going to be terrible. There was never a moment when I wasn’t in active discomfort, but I still kept going.
And then I went online.
Shortly, I realized that I had hate-watched the show like many others — with furious fervor. For the unversed…
