Emily in Paris (2020) s01e06 Episode Script

Yes, Gabriel! Ugh.
- Oh! Oh! - Ugh.
Again? - Oui! Oui! Oui! - Oh! Oui! They were at it all night.
Frenchmen never get tired of having sex.
It's like docking them in a Lightning port.
My battery's dead, and I have a huge day at work.
Ugh! - I can't believe this.
- Mm, what? Stop this shit now, asshole! Send voice note to Dad.
- That's how you talk to your dad? - The Zipper King? His third assistant will soften the tone when she reads it.
He's bribing me to come home.
- Again.
- With what? Oh, my God, a BMW? And the house behind it.
- He's giving you a house? - Yeah.
Right next to my parents' place.
All I have to do is go home, join his trainee program, and start dressing like Angela Merkel.
And you're giving up all that to be a nanny? - Do you really like Paris that much? - Yes, I do.
- But also, I can never go back to China.
- Why not? Well, first of all, there's the life my parents have planned for me.
Um, marry the right guy, live on the right street… and also, ahem, there is this.
I'm gonna swing… Oh, my God, you were on Chinese Idol? We call it Chinese Popstar.
That's so cool.
Chandelie I choked in front of billions of people.
Not millions, billions.
Ugh.
And when they found out who my father was, I became a meme.
Oh, boy.
I was so mortified, I had to get out of China ASAP.
And so I gave up, and I came here and went to business school like my dad wanted me to.
And I failed at that too.
Well, of course you did.
You're a singer.
Was a singer.
I had my shot, and I blew it.
No, you get more than one shot, Mindy.
In China, you only get one kid.
You need to get back out there.
Just find a stage and get your groove back.
You're so cute.
But, you know, the wonderful thing about Paris is that nobody judges you for doing nothing.
It's practically an art form here.
You know what? We actually have a name for it.
Um, they call us "flâneurs.
" You're not a flâneur.
You're in hiding.
And what more fabulous place to hide? Hey.
- You said we had to wear all black.
- Mm, I said you had to.
You'll blend in perfectly at Pierre Cadault's couture house.
However, I have no interest in blending in.
Emily, I've been dreaming of meeting Pierre Cadault since I was 12 and stole issues of French Vogue from my mum's beauty salon.
He's a legend.
Oh, I know, Julien.
I did my homework.
I know all about his feud with Valentino, his affair with Elton John, and his pet iguana, Evangelista, that apparently won't die.
Actually, the iguana has died five times.
They just replaced it and called it by the same name.
- No! - Yes.
Oh! Hey, Sylvie, um… did you see my e-mails about social strategy? Pierre Cadault detests social media, but his manager knows he needs it to compete.
If we get the account, that's something to discuss in the future.
So today, just observe, admire, and try to disappear, hmm? Won't be a problem.
I wore all black.
That's not black.
That's off-black.
Since the 1800s, only design houses chosen by the French Federation of Fashion may refer to their work as "haute couture.
" Pierre Cadault is one of them, of course.
Uh, Monsieur Cadault does not chase trends.
He's… He's an artist.
Even now, he's offered his talents to design costumes for the new ballet this week at the Paris Opera.
Oh! Ah! Sublime! Il… Il arrive! Hold my hand.
Okay, let it go.
Dominique, I wish you wouldn't show the costumes.
They're not ready! Oh, Pierre.
Oh là là! They are more than ready.
They elevate ballet.
The team here from Savoir was just saying so, n'est-ce pas? Oh, yes.
The Instagrammers.
Oh, no, Monsieur Cadault.
It's the honor of my career to be here.
Of my life.
Hmm.
And you? Uh… Um… Beyond honored.
I… I mean, uh, I've always… um, admired your work.
And being here, it's just fabulous.
"Fabulous"? You… Your… Your couture is… is a confection.
I could eat your clothes! Ringarde.
Ooh! Ah! Oh, Pierre! Pierre! Wait! What happened, guys? What does "ringarde" mean? It means "basic.
" He called you a basic bitch.
What? Because of my bag charm? Do you think he's her son or her lover? Oh, um, I… I was just… watching to see if the Caesar salad is really worth 20 euros.
She's forceful.
Bit controlling.
Like a mother.
And now she's feeding him… like… a lover.
Oh, God, I hope.
Loser buys the next bottle of wine.
You're so sure you're right? I'm a professor of semiotics.
It's, uh - Study of symbols.
- Hmm.
I have a master's in communication.
Then you know it's my job to read such things.
Signs, people.
Thomas.
Emily.
So, how are we gonna know who wins this little wager? I guess we have to sit here until they reveal themselves.
What are you drinking? And then, for the rest of the day, no one would talk to me at work.
Well, for one thing, it's a bit ringard to call someone ringarde.
Right? I'm not saying I'm cool… You're sitting at the coolest café in all of Paris.
At least, historically.
Really? This was the home of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir.
Everybody in Paris flocked to see them.
I read Second Sex in college.
Most of it.
But did you know that, for the longest time, the café across the street, Les Deux Magots, was the cool place? Hemingway and Picasso, they used to drink there.
And what happened? Sartre and de Beauvoir decided it was too bourgeois, and they fled to the Café de Flore 'cause it was empty, and suddenly… Café de Flore was the cool place.
When two things are next to each other, we're… forced to compare them.
Café de Flore et Deux Magots.
Or "ringarde" and "cool.
" You are not ringarde.
Wait! What? Who's that third guy? Now we're never gonna know who won the bet.
I don't care about the bet.
I just wanted to keep talking to you.
Well… we could talk someplace else.
Someplace cooler? Oh… okay.
Yeah.
Oh, my God! All your books are in French.
And good morning to you.
And they're not my books.
They came with the apartment.
I have a rule.
If I go home with a girl, and she doesn't have her own books, I cannot make love to her.
I have my own books.
They cost too much to ship from Chicago, so I download them on my iPad.
Then, show me your iPad.
Why? So I can make love to you again with a clear conscience.
Are you sure you don't wanna use my shower? I don't want to wash you off yet.
Please tell me we'll see each other again tonight.
Oh! Okay, sure.
Bonjour! Who is he? A professor I met last night.
I've… I've never done anything like that.
For all I know, he could have been a murderer.
Hmm.
I thought I heard a couple of petites morts, so… A couple of what? Um, little death.
It means "an orgasm.
" And it sounds like you died at least twice last night.
Oh, my God, I'm petit mortified.
Oh, "little deaths"? Why do you call it that? It sounds so morbid.
No, it's not.
It's like, um… it's so intense that you die, and then you are reborn as a new person.
Hmm.
Well, if it isn't la belle ringarde.
- Ugh.
Could you not? - I said "belle.
" Okay, "ringarde," I cannot deny.
Look, I'm not basic.
In fact, I went home with a philosophy professor last night.
That's worse than basic.
It's boring.
It was not boring.
He quoted Rimbaud to me, and it was hot.
The only thing my ex ever quoted was Game of Thrones recaps.
America, it sounds like a prison.
Anyway, I guess this poetry man explains why you're late for once.
No.
Sylvie e-mailed me that I didn't have to be in until 11:00.
- What meeting's happening in there? - For the Fourtier account.
The watch account? I'm leading social.
Did Sylvie tell you why they're meeting without me? Definitely not.
However, I'm feeling uncomfortable right now, so I'm leaving.
Is there a reason I wasn't invited to the Fourtier meeting this morning? Last week, you told me to prepare a deck.
Luc, can you please tell Emily she's not leading social media for Fourtier anymore.
She's on a luxury brand quarantine.
Okay, I will tell her.
I'm right here.
Is this about Pierre Cadault? And tell her, also, I don't need to hear her moaning around the office all day.
- She can go.
- Yes, I will tell her.
I didn't do anything wrong.
Oh, well, make sure she knows what a quarantine is.
- Sure.
- It means the same thing in English! It was one client, and we knew Pierre Cadault was a long shot.
Yes, but he was Sylvie's long shot.
She's talked about signing him as long as I've been at Savoir.
Well, do you think there's any way to see Pierre again and explain? And what would you say? Go ahead.
Pretend I am Pierre.
Monsieur Cadault, please allow me Ringarde! I can't believe I got demoted because of an accessory.
At least you have a hot new male accessory.
- How's that going? - Crazy.
- Like, three petits morts in one night.
- Aw! You learned a gross new phrase.
I did.
He refused to shower afterwards because he wanted a reminder on him.
- Is that weird? - Sexy.
Although that's probably why the metro smells like PBO during morning rush hour.
Public BO? Pussy BO.
- Mindy! - What? Have you taken the metro? Sorry.
I get très nasty when I'm exhausted, and thanks to you, I was up all night.
Why me? I went down a drunk rabbit hole of googling jazz clubs in Paris.
I don't know.
I figured that if I was going to try the singing thing again, I might as well do it here, where no one knows me.
I saw that there is an open audition at Crazy Horse.
Well, that's not so crazy.
- I'm not going.
- Why not? Because I still have Chinese Popstar PTSD.
That's… That's, like, p for "post-traumatic," right? Emily, yes.
Okay.
Well, you just… You need to get over it and sing.
Honestly, sometimes I don't think I'll ever sing again.
What about for me? Maybe I don't know.
Not right now.
Why not right now? No one's paying attention.
- You want me to sing right now? - Yes.
- There are people.
- So? Just pick any song that you want.
I'm not gonna judge you.
- Hmm.
- I'm not judging.
Fine, okay.
- I can't look at you.
- All right.
- I'm gonna st Here, you take this.
- Oh, okay.
Gonna stand far away, not look at you.
Okay.
- Okay, what do you want me to sing? - I don't know.
Whatever you want.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas Je vois la vie en rose Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m' fait quelque chose Il est entré dans mon coeur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause C'est lui pour moi Moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit L'a jure Pour la vie Give your heart and soul to me And life will always be La vie En rose Okay, okay.
Merci.
No one was paying any attention.
Don't worry.
Bonsoir.
- Hmm.
- Oh! A gift.
Delta of Venus.
It's very sexy.
Shall we go upstairs and read it, or are you not letting me in? If we go upstairs now, we'll never make it to dinner.
Hmm.
Better to have something to look forward to, anyway.
- Hey.
- Oh.
- Hey, Emily.
- Hi.
Mwah! Mwah! Oh, introduce us to your friend.
Oh, uh, this is Thomas.
Thomas, this is my friend Camille and… and her boyfriend, Gabriel.
Yes, we've heard you.
We heard… of you.
Um, Gabriel is, uh, the chef at a restaurant across the square.
Yeah, except tonight, another chef is gonna cook for us at a great little tapas place in the tenth.
Yep.
Oh! You should join us.
Oh, no, we wouldn't wanna crash your dinner.
Please, it would totally be fun.
Please.
- I love Spanish wine.
Why not? - Why not? Yeah.
Okay, great.
Um… it's a double date, then.
- Yay! - Yay.
Great.
Um, it's this way.
Oh, this area is so pretty.
What's it called? Canal Saint-Martin.
It used to be gritty and authentic.
It is a shame how popular it's gotten.
None of the charm it had before.
I still like it.
Uh, it's Euro Disney compared to what it was.
Did you both grow up in the city? - No.
- Gabriel's from, um, Normandy.
I grew up on a farm in Brionne.
His whole family raised money so he could attend cooking school here.
They are so proud of my guy.
Oh, I love that.
Well, the two of you have something in common.
Neither from Paris.
- Cigarette, anyone? - I'd love one, thanks.
I'm surprised.
All the chefs I know roll their own.
Well… Well, now you know one who doesn't.
Hmm.
Gabriel, you… you picked a really great wine.
Oh, thank you.
It's a small organic producer from Rioja.
Gabriel knows his wine inside and out.
Except for champagne.
That is Camille's specialty.
Oh, only because of where I grew up.
My family has a little château in Champagne.
- It's called Domaine de Lalisse.
- Hmm.
Domaine de Lalisse? - Mm.
- I've never heard of it.
Well, it's, um, small.
But we don't have to talk about that.
That's so boring.
Yeah, I agree.
So dull, talking about wine.
It's like conversation about the weather.
Far more interesting to drink it.
No? Bien sûr.
I don't think Gabriel likes me.
What makes you say that? I could just tell that he's jealous that I'm with you.
I don't think that's true.
Who can blame him? We just have to try to be quieter tonight.
Sure.
Whatever you say.
Oh! Mm-hmm! SWAN LAKE COSTUME DESIGN: PIERRE CADAUL Hey, girl! Sorry.
Won't do that again.
I have something for you.
Well, two things, actually.
I thought that you and I, or you and whoever, could go to opening night of the ballet for another shot at Pierre Cadault.
Don't mention his name to me ever again.
That was a box! What are you doing? I don't know yet, but I didn't come to France to be demoted.
After tonight, you may be deported.
Hmm.
Emily, hi.
Where are you off to, so dressed up? Oh, I… I have tickets to the ballet.
Oh, with, uh, Thomas, I presume.
- Yes.
- Hmm.
I see.
Well… enjoy.
What is it? I didn't say anything.
Sounds like an interesting evening.
Do you have a problem with him? I'm sorry, but I think he's a snob.
An asshole masquerading as an intellectual.
I know his type.
Maybe… Maybe you can't tell since you're not from Paris You're not from Paris either.
Sorry, I… - That's not how I meant it.
- Fine.
I just think you're wasting your time on a guy who doesn't deserve you.
Emily.
You look beautiful in that dress.
But not as beautiful as you look without it.
Well, you're looking pretty handsome yourself.
There's just one problem here.
Did you know they were performing Swan Lake tonight? Is this a joke? What? Well, the last time I was here, it was for Boléro, a masterpiece.
Uh, Swan Lake is for tourists.
Or is it on the cusp of being cool again, like Café Deux Magots? Hmm.
Clever, trying to use my argument against me, but evidently, you missed the point of what I was saying.
Okay.
Well, I would like to find Pierre Caudault and try to talk to him, so maybe you can endure it until then.
You're here to ambush Pierre Cadault? So now we have a bad ballet and an awkward encounter with an overrated designer to look forward to? - Oh, my God, you are a snob.
- Uh… excuse me? You really just don't like to like anything, do you? "Snob," the last refuge of the simpleminded.
"Simpleminded"? Uh, simple but beautiful.
How about you go and I'll meet you afterwards and I'll treat you to some amazing sex? I think we'd both like that better.
Thomas, since you're a professor of signs, I'm sure you won't have any trouble recognizing this one.
That's more of a gesture.
Monsieur Cadault.
Do I know you? It's the ringarde from the marketing firm the other day.
Emily from Savoir.
Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.
It's a private box.
I… I just came here to apologize for the other day, for offending you, and… and to let you know that… you're right.
I am a basic bitch with a bag charm.
In fact, do… do you wanna know why I got that bag charm? Because my friends and I were obsessed with Gossip Girl.
We all wanted to be Serena van der Woodsen in her gorgeous, crazy-expensive couture.
But the only thing we could afford from any of those designers was a clip-on bag charm from a outlet mall in Winnetka.
So… yeah.
I guess that made us pretty ringarde.
Mm-hmm.
I'm calling security.
You think ringardes don't respect designers.
We worship designers so much that we spend all we've saved on a dumb accessory just to feel like we're somehow on your runway.
You may mock us… but the truth is… …you need us.
Without basic bitches like me, you wouldn't be fashionable.
I can't believe it was Dan.
- What? - Gossip Girl.
We watched the entire series to find out… it's Dan.
Mademoiselle, sorry.
This box is only for VIP guests.
It's fine.
I don't belong here anyway.
You did go to the ballet last night, didn't you? I, uh… I just got a call from Pierre Cadault's office.
- I'm so sorry.
- He wants to meet.
He insisted Gossip Girl be there.
I can only assume that's you.
- Oh.
Well, that's… that's good, right? - Mm.
I don't know how it happened.
I don't want to know.
But I need you to be… …less.
How about you do you, and I'll do me? And how about a one-way ticket back to Chicago? Less.
Got it.
A lot less.