As tends to happen over winter break when my days are filled to the brim with tedium and gray skies, I devoured television shows like advent calendar chocolates. One of these show was (évidemment!) Emily in Paris.

Did I watch the first season of EIP? No. I couldn’t get past the second episode. Did I watch the second one? I might have heard snippets of dialogue from an adjacent room. But did I watch the third season like it was a French New Wave film? Oui. Full of hijinks, cheap talk and catty quips, Emily in Paris has tried to evolve over the years, but no matter how they try and make Emily less annoying, they will always dress her in the most heinous outfits. Perhaps I wouldn’t want to curb stomp Emily’s head if she wasn’t wearing 42 different patterns of neon green and mustard simultaneously. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I enjoyed a single item that Emily wore. For a fashion marketer, Emily should perhaps peruse through some of those fashion magazines in her office for more palatable inspiration.

I do have one thing to ask all the EIP haters who say it’s a disgrace to French culture: Did you really think the creator of Sex and the City was going to represent a culture in an accurate and nuanced way? Did you ever watch SATC and think, “Wow this show represents the vast cultural diversity of New York City so well they should do it again in France!” No, because not only did Sex and the City not do any of that, you didn’t even watch Sex and the City. You were too busy smoking cigarettes and sipping red wine (or whatever else the French do).

It isn’t controversial that Emily in Paris is a bad show – which, to be clear, it is – but it does settle in that sweet spot of being a stupid enough show that you can shut your mind off, but colorful enough so that you don’t fall asleep. For that, I give it 2 stars.