Searching for Stars Hollow
I’ve gotten really into mugs in the past few years. The more colorful and kitschier, the better — though my collection runs the gamut from a rock ‘n roll tarot card print to understated, speckled earthenware. Not only do they serve the very practical purpose of fueling me with the good bean juice that makes me go fast, but cradling the hot cup in between my hands and inhaling the steam as I wistfully stare out the window every morning — like the human embodiment of a lame iStock photo — proves to be a source of constant comfort in the general hellscape that is existing on planet earth since March 2020. So, yeah, mugs. I was looking for a new one recently, scrolling mindlessly through Etsy until I came upon one bearing the logo of Luke’s, the fictional diner in Gilmore Girls. I clicked on it instinctively, without a second thought, as if I recognized the butter yellow and rust as my college colors or the image as a beloved family vacation destination. But my finger hovered over the “purchase” button when I considered whether I really needed an item that promoted a completely fake place, a small-town Connecticut restaurant that only ever existed in reality as a Warner Brothers set in Burbank, California. The answer, obviously, was yes.
From the night the pilot aired on October 5, 2000, I was totally in love with Lorelai, Rory, and the kooky cast of characters that bumbled around the fictional enclave of Stars Hollow, Connecticut. I, too, am close with my mom — we watched the show together religiously every week until I went off to college — and lived in a small New England town (in New Hampshire, but close enough). Stars Hollow was the more interesting, idealized version of Amherst; while we did have a historic village with a Doose’s-esque market called Moulton’s, charming brick town hall, beautiful colonial homes, and not one but two retro gas stations, it never quite measured up to the ongoing small-town intrigue that I got to see on the WB each Tuesday, and then Thursday, night. Which makes sense, because life isn’t a TV show. But the absence of that made-up magic was endlessly frustrating for me as I went through my mundane school days and snuck away to the land of Miss Patti’s and the Independence Inn at night.
For better or worse — and in many ways, worse, definitely worse — the show shaped much of my taste in everything from boys to music. Or maybe it just contributed to it; it was a very chicken-and-egg situation given the fact that I was ages 14–21 while it aired. All I know that there was also a cheeky “Rory and Jess supremacy” t-shirt in my Etsy cart along with the Luke’s mug (he is categorically the best of the boyfriends and I will not be taking questions at this time).
Speaking of which, there were certainly some characters IRL. Shaggy-haired, ne’er-do-well Jess types who pumped gas at the full-service station in the town center to the delight of my giggling friends and I, who would go an embarrassingly far distance out of our way for a fill up. Old-money Emily Gilmores of the Amherst Junior League who peered over their noses at my mom when she tried to join the group upon our arrival in town. The jocky, preppy Logans and Tristans who had a lacrosse stick permanently fused with their hands. Overall, though, it always fell a bit short. Why did I not have suitors fighting over who would take me on a chaste, sweet picnic?! Why were grocery store employees not trying to covertly kiss me in the soup aisle? Instead, I had depressed goth dudes I barely knew calling me on a daily basis telling me that I was their reason to live and nerds asking me to send them Nikon Coolpix nudes over AOL Instant Messenger. The contrast was staggering!
But while my attachment to Gilmore Girls began, as many forms of entertainment do, as an escapist fantasy of sorts, it has become my all-time favorite TV show for a different and somewhat unexpected reason entirely. It’s eminently rewatchable, yes, not only because of the comfort and delight that it brings, but also because of the way that the character dynamics and storylines have me adopting an entirely new perspective on them nearly each time I revisit it. I identified with Rory so much one year it was scary, and couldn’t relate to a thing about her the next. I’ve admired Lorelai for retaining her free, fun spirit and had to watch through my fingers as she walked into the Chilton headmaster’s office in daisy dukes and a pink tie-dyed babydoll tee a couple years later. I initially thought Paris was an evil shrew — the clear villain — but as I’ve gotten older, my take has softened and I see an insecure, neglected girl that hides from her pain by throwing herself into the one thing she has control over: her work. Been there! As a teenager, Luke’s salty, surly demeanor had me intimidated and annoyed; what was HIS DEAL? Currently, I probably relate to him the most out of anyone on the show because people are just so exhausting. And Dean. Oh lord, Dean. How was I ever taken with his ho-hum “charm?” Dude is a clingy, whiny, controlling little bitch. At least Jess never tried to hide who he was, am I right? The glaring exception here is Lane: she was the coolest, and remains the coolest.
The setting of Gilmore Girls may be a bit (okay, a lot) utopian, but the people are fallible and remarkably real, just like in life. I’ve changed and grown along with them for most of my life, with some relationships running their course and others beginning anew. Stars Hollow doesn’t really exist, but I’ve decided that’s actually for the best. After all, the fantasy is usually better than the reality and it’s always fun to have something just out of reach to daydream about.
Today, that something is an order of pancakes and a bottomless mug of coffee at Luke’s Diner.
