Emily in Paris has aged like a fine French wine – yes, really

1 month ago 8

By Madeleine Ryan

January 20, 2026 — 11.00am

The bob doesn’t lie. Season five of Emily in Paris means business.

Over the years, this soapy Netflix series has been deemed a guilty pleasure and a great way to kill brain cells. But what if it staunchly refused to be anything other than lowbrow? What if it embraced being mind-numbing, fantastical drivel, while still evolving its characters and their relationships in highly intelligent ways? Then what? Then, maybe, it’s worth watching.

Emily in Paris has grown into a show that knows itself and is willing to take risks in all the right places.

Lily Collins as Emily and Eugenio Franceschini as Marcello in Emily in Paris.

For the first four episodes of this most recent season, which dropped over the Christmas holidays, it’s unapologetically Emily in Rome. We’re immediately immersed in truffle hunts, palazzos, Dolce and Gabbana stores, al fresco dining, gold baroque detailing and ancient ruins. There’s even a detour to Venice before the season’s end involving gondolas and hotel rooftops.

Of course, all of this is a thinly veiled travel ad. And, just like the seasons that came before, shameless product placement abounds. But EIP understands what its audience wants: when the people cry out,“take me somewhere pretty! Somewhere I’m not!” it does.

As usual, the brightness of the show’s aesthetic and the harshness of the HD can feel garish. EIP still leans commercial rather than creative. But its inauthentic, overcooked quality has also created a distinct style: the Emily in Paris pallette is cartoonish, expensive, fun, colourful, electric. This is pop art that would make Andy Warhol proud.

Season five also gives us an Emily (Lily Collins) who speaks decent French, dresses asymmetrically, and is free of “accidental ambition”. There’s no more knocking on the wrong doors and stumbling upon destiny, unavailable men, lucrative business opportunities or viral social media campaigns. These days, Emily knows what she wants, and she’s unashamedly trying to get it. She’s confronting her “intimacy issues”. She’s wearing suits, scarves and structured satin. And she knows that “difficult women” like toxic boss Sylvie (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu) are her “specialty”.

And yet, Emily’s signature naivety is still harnessed to great effect. She totally misses the sexual chemistry brewing between ex-BF Alfie (Lucien Laviscount) and BFF Mindy (Ashley Park), whose URST (unresolved sexual tension) solidly eclipses any of Emily’s romantic escapades throughout the season. And, to the series’ credit, Mindy is given her own space to shine. Mindy is the provocative, sensual, singing, dancing, believably eating, heartily laughing one. Emily is not. Whenever Emily dons Italian lingerie or claims to be full of cacio e pepe she looks afraid. Mindy does food and fake tan well.

Lily Collins as Emily and Ashley Park as Mindy in Emily in Paris.

Speaking of food and fake tan, this season also introduces a flamboyant new foundational character and seamlessly deletes an old one: pouty French frenemy Camille (Camille Razat) has been swapped-out for bejewelled loose unit Princess Jane (Minnie Driver). This is a bold move – and one that pays off.

The four-season-long love triangle between Emily, Camille, and Michelin-star chef Gabriel (Lucas Bravo) was tres tired. But hunky and inadvertently hilarious Gabriel is still sprinkled throughout season five and, in moments, his performance leans into a kind of comedy, and irony, that is totally disarming.

At one point, Gabriel spots Emily and Italian stallion Marcello (Eugenio Franceschini) canoodling before a fountain after he’s travelled from Paris to Rome to rekindle the romance. Upon spotting the pair, Gabriel looks away, saddened, dejected, taking pause and losing heart as a Spanish guitar starts playing. This is satire. And the inclusion of such a moment reveals a show that is much more willing to make fun of itself.

Sadly, there isn’t enough of our beloved Gabriel in season five. But it does end on him, in Greece, hinting at a sixth season – and yes, just yes. Give me stony beaches and tzatziki, sas efcharistó.

Meanwhile, the introduction of Princess Jane is a triumph for the show’s plot, energy and self-awareness. She’s a perfect fit. Her Ab Fab flavour takes EIP away from the more tormented, conniving influence of Camille, and closer to the intergenerational splendour and absurdity that suits it best.

But, in many ways, season five’s greatest triumph is its more subtle exploration of Emily’s insecurities and resultant homesickness. Chic Italian babes are vying for Marcello’s attention, and they’re distinctly more refined, more wealthy, and more elegant than Emily. It makes her – and us – wonder what he’s doing with the awkward American.

By season’s end, of course, we know why Marcello would choose Emily over all stylish others: she believes in him and she’s willing to go out on a limb to support him. When Marcello moves away from the family business, Emily has his back. When he reveals a talent for design, she urges him to pursue it. Emily might not be rich, or sophisticated, but she’s an optimist, and she’s willing to change, and to grow. She’s also willing to forgive – a trait made especially clear through her maturing relationships with Mindy and Sylvie.

These aspects of Emily weren’t entirely obvious in earlier seasons, even if they were dabbled in. Her neurosis and capacity for self-deception overshadowed all else.

Ultimately, season five of EIP gives us a series that is mastering the art of character development and owning its ridiculousness. Which is no mean feat. Many shows have become repetitive, formulaic and bland by their fifth seasons. But Emily has aged like a fine French wine and I, for one, am down to drink.

Madeleine Ryan is the author of A Room Called Earth and The Knowing.

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