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      in Television

      Emily Is Still in Paris. Why Are We Still Watching?

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      The Netflix hit has been widely mocked from the beginning. But despite its flaws — or perhaps because of them — it’s a pop-culture phenomenon.Here is one inviolable rule that I have learned governs American screens: If ever I see a young woman standing before a mirror holding a pair of scissors, it is almost always a harbinger of some unspeakable doom. Whether in comedy or in horror, this image is cinematic shorthand for when the writers want us to know that whatever this woman’s inner torment may have been in that moment, it won, obliterating her sanity and driving her to this act of assured self-destruction.That is how we find the titular heroine of “Emily in Paris,” in the third season’s premiere: still in Paris, standing before a mirror in the middle of the night, muttering to herself before snipping off a jagged, uneven chunk of hair across her forehead. She has been jolted awake from a nightmare in which she saw herself forced to confront her deepest fear: having to make a decision on her own.This is an existential crisis for Emily Cooper, who, before her French sojourn, was happily shilling tag lines for I.B.S. drugs in Chicago. As laid out in the series’s first season, by way of a mystifying fluke, Emily finds herself at a luxury marketing firm in Paris, going in place of her pregnant boss. (In this universe, we are to assume that this enormous company has only two employees and that corporations simply love to give unasked-for promotions to junior underlings.) She is there in Paris to provide an “American point of view,” despite not possessing much of one, beyond lovingly declaring that “the entire city looks like ‘Ratatouille.’” By the end of the first two seasons, she has conducted sanitized love affairs with a rotating cast of forgettable men and embodied a portrait of American middle-managerial insufferability specifically calculated to drive her Parisian co-workers and watchers of the show equally apoplectic.The show’s second season ends on a low-stakes cliffhanger that kept unwilling “Emily in Paris” hostages like me (I cannot in all honesty call us “fans”) on begrudging tenterhooks for a year: Will Emily choose the safety of a big corporation and stick with Madeline, her mentor from Chicago, an ur-girlboss of corporate marketing who is obnoxiously secure in her American basicness and a cartoonish portrait of who Emily might become two decades from now? Or will she defect and join the marketing coup being staged by Sylvie, the abrasive yet terrifyingly magnetic Frenchwoman whose approval Emily has spent the past two seasons trying to win with an almost-feral desperation?Beneath the Bambi-like visage and the sweet ebullience lies a stark void of nothingness.For the pugnaciously good-humored Emily, whose sole defining characteristic so far has been her geniality (even being called an “illiterate sociopath” by her former friend barely made a dent in her sunniness), this outer turbulence has forced her to exhibit signs of an inner life for the first time in the show’s run. For once, Emily is visibly shaken. And in the time-honored tradition of one-dimensional screen heroines who came before her, Emily has commenced yet another season-long course of causing unintentional catastrophes with the only act of intention seen from her so far: the guillotining of her own bangs.When the first season of “Emily in Paris” debuted on Netflix in October 2020, it was widely mocked and near-universally reviled in both nations for an abundance of reasons. There was the literalism of its construct. (There is truly nothing more to it than here is Emily, who is in Paris.) There was the egregiously loud costuming. (What sort of corporate culture in France allows for bucket hats to be worn at an office, and why is Emily in possession of so many of them?) Then there were the characters, a buffoonish assemblage of dated stereotypes that managed to offend both the Americans and the French.But despite its utter frictionlessness or perhaps because of it, the compulsively hate-​watchable show became a phenomenon.I began watching this show out of the crudest form of identitarian loyalty, because I harbor an unshakable sympathy for any youngish woman (even fictional; even if she wears bucket hats) whose profession (like mine) requires using the word “social” as a noun with a straight face. Far be it from me to demand interiority from rom-com ingénues experiencing character development for the first time, but watching Emily utter marketing argot like “corporate commandments” and breezily brush off every cruel joke about her dimwittedness left me wondering: Does this show want me to laugh at Emily for the particular brand of sincere, millennial smarm she represents? Or am I meant to cheer at her (very American) refusal to change, no matter what her travails in Paris put her through?To say Emily is chasing anything would be ascribing too much agency, with which even her creators have not dignified her.In both literature and cinema, Paris has long been the milieu in which to place a certain class of mordantly restless, cosmopolitan and upwardly mobile white American woman, who finds herself in the city (often fruitlessly) chasing things her homeland has denied her: a renewed sense of self after heartbreak; liberation (both sexual and intellectual); sometimes adventure; occasionally adultery. Paris harbored Edith Wharton’s Countess Olenska when the insipid society gentleman she fell in love with hadn’t the spine or the stomach to claim their life together. In her memoir, “My Life in France,” Julia Child recalls arriving in Paris still a “rather loud and unserious Californian,” and how it was the city, along with her beloved husband, Paul, that molded her into the woman the world got to know. Paris was where Carrie Bradshaw, perpetually in love with the idea of love, finally realized that maybe all it did was make her more miserable. Emily Cooper, however, is not one of these women. To say she is chasing anything (except perhaps a steady stream of head pats of approval from her bosses) would be ascribing too much agency, with which even her creators have not dignified her.In 1919, when Wharton, herself an expatriate in Paris, wrote that “compared with the women of France, the average American woman is still in the kindergarten,” she might as well have been talking about Emily, whose stock-in-trade is a unique brand of empty infantilism. Nowhere is this more evident than in the way the millennial Emily Cooper seems engineered from a boomer’s nightmare of what young people today are like: indolent, addicted to their phones and obsessed with being rewarded for doing the bare minimum. The show’s architects have endowed her with what has come to be known as her generation’s worst trait: a compulsive devotion to online oversharing and the cult of manufactured relatability. But what sets Emily apart is that beneath the Bambi-like visage and the sweet ebullience lies a stark void of nothingness.The Chekhov’s Bangs incident turns out to have only the most minor payoff later on, when for once, Emily makes a life-altering choice that of course fosters zero introspection. For a show that managed to make even the complexity and angst of infidelity as saccharine as the pain au chocolat that Emily posts on Instagram with the caption “butter+chocolate = 💓,” watching her give herself what her friend calls “trauma bangs” was about as abrupt an upping of the stakes in the Emilyverse as can be. But for those of us who’ve continued to watch, we do it despite our bewilderment — like Emily butchering her hair — even though we know it’s a mess.Iva Dixit is a staff editor for the magazine. She last wrote a Letter of Recommendation about raw onions.Source photographs: Stéphanie Branchu/Netflix More

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      in Movies

      ‘Bodies Bodies Bodies’ and Gen Z’s Struggle to Connect IRL

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      What happens when Gen Z loses Wi-Fi? Using horror and humor, the cast and filmmakers of the new slasher film aim for a generational portrait.A lip-locking close-up is the first we see of Sophie (played by Amandla Stenberg) and Bee, her girlfriend of six weeks (Maria Bakalova). Seemingly pulled from the pages of a fairy tale, Sophie confesses her love for Bee as they lie in a green meadow surrounded by nature. Within seconds, that affectionate scene gives way to a shot of the two absorbed in their phones as agitating dings and notifications dry up any remnants of intimacy or passion.These juxtaposed moments in the new satirical slasher “Bodies, Bodies, Bodies” ridicule the inability of its Generation Z characters to establish meaningful connections when a blinding screen forms a glaring barrier: “Sophie is expecting Bee to perform this intense level of vulnerability, even though she perhaps has not earned it,” Stenberg explained in a video call, “and I think that’s something that we expect now of everyone because we all perform vulnerability on the internet.”That’s one of several ways the film — about a group of privileged, internet-hungry 20-somethings stranded at a house party — tries to paint a portrait of the generation born within a few years before and after the millennium. Using humor, horror tropes and a cast of young stars, the film forces its characters to reckon with their nondigital identities and pokes fun at their symbiotic relationship with cellphones, their jargon based in trauma and the despot-like force of the group chat.As the director Halina Reijn said in a video call, “when the Wi-Fi goes out, it’s like they lose oxygen.”Soon after arriving at the isolated mansion, Sophie, Bee and their friends play Bodies, Bodies, Bodies, a party game involving a mysterious killer the players must identify and vote off in each round. But when the power goes out amid a hurricane, real bodies begin to fall. The characters’ behavior turns beastlike, Reijn said, and they forget how to respond to a crisis disconnected from the digital world.From left, Stenberg, Bakalova, Pete Davidson (David) and Rachel Sennott (Alice) in the film. The characters expect an intense level of vulnerability in person “because we all perform vulnerability on the internet,” Stenberg said.Eric Chakeen/A24“We can totally live in the face of death and still speak about things that are so unimportant but are so big to us,” Reijn said, adding, “I find that funny and tragic, of course, at the same time.”Stenberg, the star of “The Hate U Give” and the forthcoming “Star Wars” series “The Acolyte,” served as an executive producer of the film and drew on her own experience with digital life. She said the screenwriter Sarah DeLappe (a playwright known for “The Wolves”) embedded the script with so much wit that the moments of hypocrisy and vapidity became easy to create. “The point is not to say that Gen Z is not intelligent or sophisticated, but rather to provide a commentary for how absurd the circumstances” are, Stenberg said. (DeLappe was not available for comment.)Among those moments, the partygoers, friends since childhood, playfully film TikToks over the Tyga-Curtis Roach anthem “Bored in the House” and rave about social media likes.Gen Zers rely heavily on digital spaces for self-expression, community building and news gathering, Stenberg noted, but also face a sense of cognitive dissonance as they try to stay present in virtual life and reality. Indeed, said Sarah Bishop, a professor of communication studies at Baruch College, “for them to be able to defamiliarize or step back from this massive presence in their life is asking them to do something impossible, right? It’d be like asking them to imagine living without solid food.”Alice, played by Rachel Sennott (“Shiva Baby”), invites her 40-year-old Tinder match, Greg (Lee Pace), to the house party. In Reijn’s view, Greg serves as a bridge for older viewers: He tries to learn the rules of the game but uses sports analogies a dad might use, like “the best defense is a good offense,” and just bewilders the younger crew. For Reijn, who at 46 is a Gen Xer, Greg represented her personal detachment from Gen Z. “This goes, of course, for every generation that grows older, you always, sort of, lose touch,” she said.Sennott with Lee Pace, who plays Greg, a 40-year-old Tinder match.Gwen Capistran/A24Still, Reijn wanted the film to be real and honest but also funny, as each character shared the primal urge to belong when online usage swallows self-awareness.“I think we live in a time where we’re all very narcissistic, because we’re constantly on the camera,” she said. “Right now, we’re constantly aware of how we look and that is, of course, unprecedented, right? Normally, that was just actors, or musicians and now it’s all of us.”Despite the physical danger each character faces, their virtual realities remain central to the plot. As the lifelong friends, drunk and high, try to determine who the killer in the game is, Emma (Chase Sui Wonders) exclaims that her boyfriend, David (Pete Davidson), is gaslighting her. David’s response: The word is meaningless, and all she did was read the internet. Be more original.With the use of trauma-centered jargon like “gaslight,” “trigger,” “toxic” and “narcissist,” overuse can cheapen the language’s original value, Wonders said.“I think Gen Z has a brilliant, brilliant way of latching onto words, giving them so much beautiful meaning and having it spread like wildfire across cultures,” she said, “and then have it swallowed by irony.”Viewers can’t help but laugh at the friends’ misery as they take emotional stabs at each other. Sophie erupts about the double standard between Black and white drug users, but rather than admitting the disparity, Alice responds, “I’m an ally.” Or when Jordan (Myha’la Herrold) questions Sophie about ghosting the group chat, she responds, “You trigger me.” Herrold, who declared this her favorite scene, said the cast spent late hours editing and rewriting the sequence to make sure it remained relatable.“A lot of the Gen Z language, ‘gaslight’ and all that, some of that was cut and we were like, ‘No it has to stay in here,’” Herrold said.Bakalova, Mhya’la Herrold (Jordan) and Stenberg. Herrold said the cast made sure that Gen Z jargon wasn’t cut from the film. A24“Bodies Bodies Bodies” is one of a number of films from A24 to try to capture a generation — think “Spring Breakers” and “Lady Bird” before it — this time to the tune of Charli XCX’s “Hot Girl,” epitomizing the egotism of post, reply and repeat.This includes group chats. Comparable to cliques at a high school lunch table, the chat dictates who is in and out of the friend group. These chats hold political meanings, Stenberg said, and when Sophie strolls into the party without properly notifying the chat first, the house grows hostile.“I’ve been in friend groups before where it’s a big deal if someone is removed from the group chat or someone is added,” she said, “and it’s this horrendous, toxic thing where someone’s presence can be physically determined.”From digital media addictions to gripping group chats, Stenberg said, “Bodies Bodies Bodies” doesn’t aim to classify social media as the villain but the mirror within us all.“We have to think carefully and intentionally about how those tools can bring out and amplify the parts of us that are the scariest,” she said. More

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      in Music

      Why the ‘Euphoria’ Teens Listen to Sinead O’Connor, Tupac and Selena

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      The hit HBO show’s maximalist, era-jumping soundtrack is unconcerned with realism, packing in dozens of songs, from the underground to the instantly recognizable.A modern high schooler’s birthday party, chaperoned by an inebriated mother with no household rules except discretion, gets going to the sound of Montell Jordan’s “This Is How We Do It,” that indelible 1990s relic. “I love this song!” the mom squeals, with an added profanity.At the same time, three teenagers in a beat-up ride are on their way to shoplift some alcohol. “Trademark USA” by Baby Keem, a rising rapper of the moment, blasts from the car speakers.Not long after, a troubled father skims a gay bar jukebox, looking for INXS’s “Kick” but finding Nicki Minaj’s “The Pinkprint” instead. He settles for a nostalgic slow dance to “Drink Before the War” by Sinead O’Connor, a devastating power ballad from 1987. Back at the birthday party, a wasted girl in a bathing suit melts down, belting along simultaneously to the same track, one released long before she was born.For some television shows, this would be an episode’s worth of big music moments. But on “Euphoria,” the maximalist hallucination of high school currently in its second season on HBO, it was but one stretch of carefully curated songs and references that, like the series itself, aimed for emotional resonance over superficial accuracy.Often cramming a couple of dozen tracks into a single hour — from the underground to the instantly recognizable, the 1950s to the 2020s — the show doesn’t do emphatic needle-drops so much as a TikTokian shuffle of aural and visual stimuli, bouncing between genres, eras and moods.In addition to O’Connor and Keem, Sunday’s episode featured a meta-montage of pop culture allusions set to Townes Van Zandt’s “I’ll Be Here in the Morning,” plus the premiere of a new song by Lana Del Rey and an onscreen, neo-gospel performance by the singer and producer Labrinth, who also handles the show’s score.Tasteful spareness has never been the objective. “We were not interested in playing by those rules,” said Julio Perez IV, the show’s lead editor, who recalled conceiving of their “own sonic galaxy” with the “Euphoria” creator, writer and director Sam Levinson. “We were interested in plenty of music — too much music for some. The show, in a sense, would be a musical.”A collage of flashbacks, daydreams, nightmares and rhythmic music video-esque sequences, “Euphoria” uses the interplay between its eclectic soundtrack and Labrinth’s recurring score to create a “wild fantasia that blends a raw naturalism with hyper-reality,” Perez said.Jen Malone, the show’s music supervisor, has also overseen the songs of “Atlanta” and “Yellowjackets,” where a strict sense of place and period guide the choices. “Euphoria” has no such boundaries.“If it works, it works,” she said in an interview, describing the show’s creative ethos and noting that Levinson writes to music, frequently including his song choices in the script. “The library of music that he has in his brain is endless,” Malone added.She and her team are then tasked with making Levinson’s vision a reality, making their own suggestions, seeking clearance from the music’s many rights holders and filling in gaps where necessary.In the show’s second season, episode prologues that tell characters’ back stories function as short films of their own, with distinct tones and time frames. One jumps from an Elvis Presley cover to Bo Diddley, Harry Nilsson, Curtis Mayfield and Isaac Hayes, while another burns through tracks by INXS, Depeche Mode, Roxette, Erasure, Echo & the Bunnymen, the Cult, Lenny Kravitz and Dan Hartman, all in the span of 15 minutes.“It’s just insane the amount of music in this show,” Malone said.Complicating her job further is the fact that “Euphoria” revolves around lurid transgression — lust, substance abuse and violence, in particular — and scenes must be described in detail during the music approval process. “We do have to get clever with how we word certain things, but sometimes there’s just no way around it,” Malone said.The sequence ultimately set to an Elvis cover that opened this season featured nudity, drugs, guns and gore — “all the red flags you could possibly think of” — leading to a few denials before the show settled on Billy Swan’s rendition of “Don’t Be Cruel,” following appeals to the music’s publisher and the Presley estate.In securing use of O’Connor’s “Drink Before the War,” the “Euphoria” staff had to confirm that it would not be played over any sexual violence, “because I think she knew the show,” Malone added.Flashbacks in the second season detail character back stories to tracks like Billy Swan’s “Don’t Be Cruel.”HBO MaxHBO MaxBut labels and artists have been pleased to see the surge in interest that a placement on “Euphoria” can trigger, whether for an emerging act like Laura Les, whose track “Haunted” plays in a recent episode, or an established one like Tupac Shakur, whose caustic “Hit ’Em Up,” from 1996, is rapped along to by a teenage drug addict. Featured tracks by Gerry Rafferty and Steely Dan have even started popping up on TikTok.Whether or not the show’s Gen Z characters would actually be listening to this music has sparked some debate and eye-rolling. (“The Euphoria Teens’ Taste in Rap Is Ridiculous,” Pitchfork ruled.) But as with their designer wardrobes, verisimilitude is beside the point.“Realism is secondary,” said Perez, the editor. “There’s a certain amount of romanticism to the approach,” with “the psychological intricacies of inner worlds” taking precedence.A song choice can signal something, as when Selena’s “Como La Flor” plays faintly in a scene featuring a character whose Mexican American heritage is alluded to, but not explored. Or it can just simply sound good.In the playlist era, “Cool kids are into loads of stuff,” said Labrinth, who mirrors the show’s range in his “limitless” original music for the show, which fuses hip-hop, rock, funk and electronic sounds. He compared Levinson to a crate-digging D.J. as likely to reference an ’80s punk band as an obscure Italian composer.For those not already in the know, “Euphoria” can also function as a recommendation engine for a new generation, like the films of Martin Scorsese and Quentin Tarantino that it’s constantly nodding to.“Knowing that our audience is very much Gen Z, it’s almost like, ‘Hey guys, listen to some of this,’” Malone said, noting that a party scene where Juvenile and DMX songs are played also included more recent, little-known tracks by artists like Blaq Tuxedo and G.L.A.M.“‘Oh, you like all of this that’s out now? Listen to this!’” she added. “We’re giving them the mixtape that I got when I was in high school.” More

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      in Television

      What’s It Like to Play the Scariest Girls on TV?

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      Sydney Sweeney and Brittany O’Grady reflect on “The White Lotus” in a joint interview.After “The White Lotus” premiered, Sydney Sweeney and Brittany O’Grady were worried about the extent to which they would be linked to their characters, the terrible Gen Z twosome known as Olivia and Paula.On the show, which HBO has renewed for a second season, the college sophomores are the mean girls of the luxury resort where they are vacationing. Almost always together, they issue scathing judgments of the other guests from behind the covers of highbrow texts.They’re sharp-tongued, they’re blasé, they’re observant and they dress well. What could be more terrifying?“I’m super sensitive, so I was like, ‘Oh, gosh, we’re not that awful,’ and then I’m looking back, and I’m like, ‘Oh gosh, we really did our job,’” Ms. O’Grady, 25, said over Zoom from Long Beach Island, N.J. She was quick to emphasize that her real-life social circle is very different.Ms. Sweeney, 23, who joined the video call from Los Angeles, agreed. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Can you imagine having a friendship with Paula or Olivia?”To other guests at the five-star resort, the two women present a united front. But there are troubles within their relationship and an ever-shifting balance of power.“It’s interesting to watch people analyze our characters and say, ‘Who’s the bully, who’s the victim?’” Ms. O’Grady said.On Monday, the day after the finale aired, Ms. O’Grady and Ms. Sweeney talked about their onscreen dynamic, Gen Z representation in film and making TV during a pandemic.Are Olivia and Paula actually friends?Sydney Sweeney: Their friendship was definitely the definition of the kinds of friendships that Olivia has in her life, where she likes to feel like she is in control and she is No. 1.Brittany O’Grady: Their friendship kind of crumbles under the circumstances of the world and how they view it or their experiences in it. And it’s not necessarily good or bad. It is what it is. But I do think in the beginning that they have this emotional comfort. We kind of created that dynamic together.Sydney: Where we hide from the outside world through what we believe is our knowledge about everyone else.Is there romantic tension between Olivia and Paula?Sydney: I keep reading that. To be honest, when we were doing it, I never thought of it. I didn’t even think about doing it. And now I’m watching, going, “Oh. Oh wow, Olivia.”Brittany: Paula having this experience with someone else when she’s supposed to be bonding with her best friend, I think that totally leans into it and kind of insinuates a romantic tension. I’ve definitely had people ask as well.Sydney, you said in another interview that Mike White (the show’s creator) suggested that you both listen to a podcast to get a sense of what your interactions should be like. What was the podcast?Sydney: “Red Scare.” I mainly listened to it for the frequency of the voices of these girls and the timing and the monotone. It was so dry and drawn out and slow. I would just emulate and copy that as much as I could and then bring it into the present day, Gen Z-esque-type woke Twitter girl. When he first told us to listen to it, I was like, “What is this?” I have never really listened to podcasts.Brittany: I don’t understand it. It’s a whole world. It’s like a different culture.What was it like to work with some of the older, established actors, like Jennifer Coolidge, Molly Shannon and Connie Britton?Sydney: I felt like all of my childhood TV icons were brought to life in front of me. You walk around the resort like, “Oh my God.” I’d call my mom and freak out. I mean, every single one of them I idolize in a different way. The entire process was like this amazing comedy boot camp.Brittany: Our first scene filming with Jennifer was when we were in the buffet line. Jennifer just kept pulling things out of her.Sydney: She kept calling the waiters the funniest names ever.Brittany: Like, “Popeye over there.” And the guy is really ripped. “The guy with the khaki face” or whatever.Sydney: We were like, “What does that even mean?”You were filming in late 2020. What was that like?Sydney: We were locked in our rooms for a couple of days. And then once we got out, we weren’t allowed to leave the property, no one was allowed to come onto the property and we had to test every other day. So the entire time we were walking around wearing masks, or shields if we had makeup on.It’s really difficult for the director as well, because as an actor we get so much off of the director’s notes and facial expression, and especially someone like Mike — there’s so much that goes on, on his face, that he’s trying to explain to you. And so a lot of times we would be like, “What do you mean?”Do you think your characters were an accurate depiction of members of Gen Z?Sydney: I think we were a specific subculture of Gen Z. I don’t think every person in Gen Z is like Olivia and Paula.Brittany: A lot of feedback I’ve gotten has been from millennials, so I don’t really know if it’s an accurate depiction of Gen Z. But I have a little brother who’s Quinn’s age, and he did almost sleep in the laundry room, and there was no air conditioning in there. And he brought his PS5.Sydney: I definitely saw my little brother in the character, too.Brittany: I have an older sister, and I hung around a lot of millennials growing up. So I identify more with millennial culture. But I’m ’96, so I’m right on that cusp of being a millennial and Gen Z. My sister was saying that if you’re in the middle of the two like I am, it depends on what, culturally, you identify more with. One was, which is kind of gruesome, but if you remember 9/11, that means you’re considered a millennial.Sydney: I feel there is a name for that because I’ve talked about this before with a lot of the “Euphoria” cast, where I don’t feel like we identify as either. We’re a little mix of both.This interview has been edited for length and clarity. More

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      in Television

      Logos Lose Their Power on the New ‘Gossip Girl’

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      Contrasting the fashions from the original series tells a much bigger story about trends overall.Even after the beloved teen drama series “Gossip Girl” ended in 2012, viewers couldn’t stop talking about the fashion. And now the show is back, with a Gen Z update. The reboot, which had its premiere on July 8 on HBO Max, takes place in the same world of wealthy Upper East Side elite as the original, but this time it’s barely recognizable as the same place.The show is significantly more diverse. The high school clique of the original show was mostly white and straight. Now there are several characters of color and plotlines that revolve around explorations of sexuality. The clothes the characters wear — maximalist sneakers, vintage purses, tote bags that promote their values — reflect a more intersectional worldview.The cast of the first season of “Gossip Girl,” when flats were the characters’ footwear of choice.Timothy White/The CWIn the rebooted series, Julien Calloway, played by Jordan Alexander, favors chunky Balenciaga sneakers.via HBOBalenciaga Sneakers Are the New Tory Burch Flats“Are those last season’s Tory Burch flats?” an incredulous Blair Waldorf asks a fellow student in Season 2 of the original show.Today, the question would be, “Are those Tory Burch flats?”When designing the wardrobes for the original show, the costume designer Eric Daman recalls walking by Upper East Side private schools and seeing groups of girls in Tory Burch flats. “It cemented the idea of, ‘OK, these young girls wear these designer brands and have cult favorites,’” he said. You’d see few logo-emblazoned ballet flats in that setting today.“The giant Balenciaga sneakers kind of replaced the Tory Burch flat,” Mr. Daman said. The change is indicative of what people, and young people in particular, consider the “it” shoe of today. Blending streetwear and luxury in a single commercial object, the sneaker is what epitomizes cool now.The new footwear is also part of the larger shift to sneakers, which rarely showed up in the old show. In the reboot, Zoya Lott, an outsider from Buffalo, wears the Adidas X Beyoncé Superstars in a key scene in which she meets the popular kids at school. The shoes are a gift from Julien, her half sister and an established Manhattanite. Showing up in the hot commodity shoes symbolizes a turning point for the character.“The shoes are kind of like a bridge into this other world for her,” Mr. Daman said.Blair Waldorf, played by Leighton Meester, carried a logo-heavy Louis Vuitton handbag in the original series.Ignat/Bauer-Griffin – GC ImagesWhitney Peak as Zoya Lott with one of her character’s signature expressive tote bags in the reboot.MediaPunch/ShutterstockThe New LogomaniaBig brand logos will be rare sights on the new show. Large logos don’t “feel authentic to what’s going on with this generation,” Mr. Daman said. “They’re less faithful to brands and less cliquey about them.”Logos used to signify status and a certain level of wealth, but today logos are often meant to convey political or social values. In the reboot, Zoya carries a tote from Revolution Books, a progressive indie bookstore in Harlem, as well as a “Recycling Black Dollars” tote bag from Melanin Apparel.Zoya’s bags are “all from really, really cool stores,” said Whitney Peak, who plays Zoya. “The bags very much speak to who she is.”Serena and Blair do their take on tights in the old series in 2007.Eric Leibowitz/The CWIn the new series athleisure pieces like bike shorts have replaced tights.via HBOAthleisure Is In, Tights Are Out“Tights are not pants!” Blair famously declared in the original series. Blair and her posse of mean girls commonly wore tights in a variety of colors and were offended at the sight of anyone wearing leggings without a skirt.With the exception of some plain black tights, the reboot is “a tightless world,” Mr. Daman said. And to what would certainly be Blair’s dismay, bike shorts are definitely considered pants now.Queen bee Julien frequently wears bike shorts, sometimes styling them with a collared shirt and tie. The athleisure movement, Mr. Daman said, “is a huge part of our culture and what’s going on in fashion. Coming out of the pandemic, people are holding onto their sweats but still want to dress up.”Jordan Alexander, who plays Julien, sees her character’s bike shorts as a highly relevant article of clothing today. “I don’t think it matters if you’re on the Upper East Side and in the one percent,” she said. “You’d still be rocking shorts.”Blair with an enormous, by today’s standards, handbag.Ray Tamarra/Getty ImagesJulien with a vintage Dior Saddle Bag.via HBODesigner Bags, But Now UsedIn the first iteration of the show, everything was big and new. Serena carried large hobo bags, and none of them were bought at resale shops. “If I brought in a secondhand bag to Serena van der Woodsen, she would’ve hit me with it,” Mr. Daman said.Today, staying true to Gen Z’s affinity for buying resale, several of the bags in the reboot are vintage. “We’ve done a lot of vintage Dior Saddle Bags, Fendi Baguettes,” Mr. Daman said. “It’s been great to have some eco-sustainability with these high-end bags.”Gen Z has been called Generation Green or the Sustainability Generation, and there’s a reason for it. Studies have shown that Gen Z makes shopping decisions based on how sustainable a business is, and at a higher rate than other generations. They want what they buy and what they wear to reflect their values.The size of the bags has also changed. The large hobo bag, Mr. Daman said, “is just not the jam” today. The micro Jacquemus Le Chiquito has yet to make an appearance, but it probably will soon, he said.Chuck Bass, played by Ed Westwick, in his element in a conventional men’s wear suit.Patrick Harbron/The CWThomas Doherty as Max Wolfe in a women’s Paco Rabanne blouse, breaking gender norms in a way the original show didn’t explore.via HBOExploring Gender Fluidity Through ClothesIn the original show, Chuck Bass was most often seen in a suit, conforming strictly to gender norms. “If I’d put a women’s blouse on Chuck Bass, it would’ve been a joke” Mr. Daman said.In the reboot, Max Wolfe, the flirty troublemaker of the group and the character most similar to Chuck, wears a white lace women’s Paco Rabanne shirt. Max, who is sexually fluid, is able to pull it off in a way that’s not kitschy or excessive. “To use clothing that doesn’t fit in with gender norms and not have it look like drag and be very sexy — he identifies as a male but wears this blouse — expands on the dialogue of what gender norms are and how we can have that conversation through clothing,” Mr. Daman said.Blair carried Chanel in the original series.James Devaney/FilmMagicSavannah Smith as Monet wears a classic Chanel belt.Jose Perez/Bauer-Griffin – GC ImagesOld Chanel Is the New New ChanelIn the first iteration of the show, Chanel was huge for the characters’ style but also for getting other designers to open up their collections to the show. “We didn’t have access to all the designer houses and weren’t getting loans,” Mr. Daman said. “Once Chanel said yes to us, the floodgates opened.”Today Chanel pieces that hold historic value are of huge importance to the characters. “It’s these archival pieces that have a heritage to them that are on point, especially for the Zoomers who seem to love all things throwback to late ’90s and early ’00s,” Mr. Daman said. Classic Chanel handbags and accessories make heavy appearances in the show, as they are pieces that still resonate with younger generations.Headbands were practically mandatory in the original series and were an essential accessory for Blair.The CWJulien repurposing Zoya’s headband as a necktie when she was made fun of for wearing it.Gotham/GC ImagesGoodbye, HeadbandAny OG “Gossip Girl” fan knows that headbands were a big deal. “Blair Waldorf’s headband has a life of its own,” Mr. Daman said. “It was always like her security blanket, for someone who was very tightly wound, very Type A. It was like the last piece of a very thought-out outfit that holds it all together.”The Gen Z characters don’t need that anymore. “They have a different kind of self-confidence that comes from just being,” Mr. Daman said.In the reboot, the mean girl Monet de Haan snarks, “She has a headband on” when she spots Zoya, the out-of-towner. Julien, her half sister, promptly unties the silk scarf and slips it around Zoya’s neck.Headbands may be scarce, but neckties of all sorts are in. Audrey Hope, another member of the gang, wears hair ribbons or scarves around her neck, resembling a tie. “It really shows both sides of her — very feminine, classic energy as well as a side of her that’s a little bit more masc,” said Emily Alyn Lind, who plays Audrey.The desire to ditch the stuffy headband speaks to the times. “We’re in an internet age,” said Ms. Alexander, who plays Julien. “People don’t feel like they need to be one thing anymore. We’ve been exposed to so much.” More