
If you were asked to discuss the charm of the television series Emily in Paris, now in its fourth season, at a gathering filled with nuclear physicists, foreign-policy experts, and career military personnel, I’d wish you good luck and excuse myself from the conversation. Many have criticized the show for its lack of depth and other imperfections: It oversimplifies French culture, the characters wear impractical outfits, Emily, portrayed by Lily Collins, is visually appealing but not complex, and she doesn’t speak fluent French. One might wonder if she’s simply unintelligent. Yet, the appeal of Emily in Paris—particularly for women—resonates with outdated notions that have long been used to dismiss our interests as trivial: Women have been associated with frivolity and decorative items for centuries, while men engage in serious discussions. In essence, the show’s allure is a relic of old ideas that linger, much like colored ribbons or silk gowns at the millinery counter—women stick to their fluff, while men retreat to the study with their cigars to discuss weighty matters.