Emily in Paris (2020–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - Ringarde - full transcript

When a meeting with an iconic couture house unravels over a basic mistake, Emily finds comfort in the company of a seemingly charming professor.

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.

Oh, my God, you were on Chinese Idol?

We call it Chinese Popstar.

That's so cool.

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 some place else.

Some place 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.

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

PIERRE CADAULT

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.