The confusing mixed messages of Gilmore Girls sparked the imaginations of several generations of American women. We all wanted to be a Lorelai.
We wanted fierce independence while enjoying the safety net of the bottomless wealth of an affluent family just a 30 minute drive away. We lamented a rustic, charming life studded with designer clothes and seemingly endless resources. We dreamed of living in a small, eclectic town rich with cosmopolitan culture and Americana, high end baked goods, world class coffee, and a parade of dramatically fascinating characters weaving through our daily lives. And we wanted to be able to eat everything we desired all the time, maintain super model figures and flawlessly bright, unbloated faces...all while quipping pop culture references in perfect 5/4 time.
We coveted the impossible dance with one foot in the whimsical Stars Hollow and the other kicking ironically at a storied past, rooted in generations of WASPy entitlement.
But perhaps most of all, we pined for our Prince Charmings to swoop in, pull us into their vintage red mustangs, produce the perfect Art Deco engagement rings, and propose in the midst of a thousand yellow daisies. If Lorelai would except no less, why should we?
Rory didn't. In fact as the next in line to be the Lorelai, she took it further. She wanted it all. Her mother’s tragically cool life and the seductive trappings of her grandparents’ wealth and position.
Okay, I’ll get serious. These themes are not new. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White...just to name a few. But somehow the updated repackaging at the turn of the century struck a chord so deep that many of us got lost in it all over again.
It became an obsessive guilty pleasure. And like most things that do, it twisted our perceptions, altered our priorities, and created false and unnecessary expectations for many of us.
If like me you held your breath - counting down the moments until the Netflix reboot just under a year and a half ago - you discovered the disappointing truth: fairytales don’t come true. And if you’re like me, you probably transferred that disappointment to the reprised Year-In-the-Life special and aggressively blamed everyone involved for ruining your fantasies of the fabulous world created in the original series. It hit me like a freight train. And I hated it.
But why?
*Time for an obligatory disclaimer: I don’t write about T.V. shows. In fact, I don’t even get into them for the most part on any level beyond ambient stimulation. The fact that I’m so driven to explore my deep relationship with the Lorelais through words and images reveals how much more than just a television program this was. For me and for millions of women.
Over the past year I’ve watched and rewatched the original series and the Netflix reprise...searching. Seraching for clues. For meaning. For understanding and flaws and reasons why it’s so intrinsically intertwined with my psyche and my lifepath. I’ve tried to pinpoint why the original so completely captured my heart and why the update pissed me off.
And something strange happened. The more I watched, the more the impressions reversed. The more I grew connected to and affected by today’s imperfect, struggling Lorelais. And the more the younger, quipier Lorelais of the past made me want to punch things.
Here are some surprising messages I’ve uncovered in the reboot:
It’s okay to let go of your past self. She served you well. Thank her and move on or you’ll remain stagnant and fail to evolve.
Unrealistic expectations lead to a world of struggle and pain.
Girls age. Even the shockingly gorgeous ones. Embrace it. Own it. Be a woman of substance. The little girl will always remain but FFS, don’t let her drive! (well okay...maybe just a little...once in awhile...)
Bad mothers create bad daughters and at some point, they both need to get over themselves and heal or move on.
Manic Pixie Dream Girls do not win at life.
Consequences catch up to you. They’re not always pretty. But they always have so much to teach you...if you are open and willing to learn.
Fairytales not only don’t come true, they shouldn’t; not even in Stars Hollow. And eventually those who cling too tightly to even a glimmer of the fantasy become devastatingly disillusioned.
Life is so much richer and deeper and better than the fantasy.
No one needs a thousand yellow daisies. No one needs a thousand yellow anything. One. One exceptional, unique, luminous daisy is more than enough to fill your heart and surpass your wildest dreams.
