Susie Lau
(Picture: Susie Lau)I’ve spent a protracted week in Paris where once again the throng outside Angelina’s hot chocolate is heaving, the selfie sticks are out in force on Pont Neuf and the inexplicable human panda is doing his panda thing on Place du Trocadéro in front of the Eiffel Tower. Everywhere is postcard ready, especially when drenched in sunshine and restaurant staff are once again batting away your sub-par French with the sass of a perfect English response.
That’s a Parisian tick that is well-observed in Netflix’s Emily in Paris, which I’m not ashamed to say I squirm-watched during the quiet ebb of January. Say what you want about its hammy love tryst storylines, mystifying outfit decisions and ludicrous xenophobia, but those well-trodden haunts such as Palais Royale and Cafè de Flore suddenly take on a new TV-imbued sheen having featured prominently in the series. I found myself having a gleeful private pastry moment and then my mind automatically flashed to Lily Collins’ Emily in her kitschy co-ordinating bucket hat and handbags doing the same.
