This review contains spoilers.
As Tribeca bars fill with backwards newsboy caps and bold patterns give way to muted neutrals, the John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy impact on internet culture can’t be missed. Something about the effortless class exuded by America’s closest thing to royalty has completely dominated social media, largely driven by Ryan Murphy’s latest series “Love Story: JFK Jr. & Carolyn Bessette.”
This trend has begun to appear across campus as well. Chic black sunglasses, high-quality basics, and early 2000s athletic wear are everywhere. The series not only serves as a source of nostalgia for older generations, but also offers a form of escapism for those not even born at the time of the Kennedy craze.
Set in early 1990s New York City, “Love Story” offers a glimpse into the life of America’s most eligible bachelor. As the son of former President John F. Kennedy and former First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, John lives under constant public scrutiny, facing mountains of pressure and relentless media attention, realities that shape his daily life. Based on the novel Once Upon a Time, the story follows John as he falls in love with Carolyn, a romance eventually unprotected from tragedy.
The couple’s romance became a cultural moment, further solidifying the Kennedys’ legacy as American royalty. As the center of intense media fascination, the series balances the hectic nature of press and fame with the couple’s attempt to build a normal life. Following John and Carolyn throughout the series, viewers see Carolyn’s distaste for the attention as she grapples with falling in love with John.
The fashion is almost a character itself in “Love Story.” Carolyn’s style is often described as effortless, yet intentional, which is clear through her neutral color palettes, slip dresses, perfect tailoring, and simple accessories. Gen-Z may find her style appealing amid the height of fast fashion trends, as Carolyn’s quietly luxurious closet is timeless and aspirational.
The moments of scenery throughout the show truly take your breath away. From bustling 1990s New York City to the bright blue waters of Martha’s Vineyard, and John’s Tribeca loft apartment adorned with cream-colored décor and warm lighting, the settings all contribute to the essence of what makes this series so captivating.
Another standout element of “Love Story” is the music woven throughout the series. Songs like “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star and “It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over” by Lenny Kravitz help shape the show’s atmosphere, which makes for a very fun watch experience. The series also uses “Back to Back” by Bryce Dessner, known for his work on We Live In Time, a film that similarly explores love shaped by loss. Working as a recurring backing track, this deliberate choice certainly reflects the deeply emotional and ultimately tragic nature of the story.
Immediately after watching the first few episodes I was inspired to make a Spotify playlist, as I often do with media I can’t stop thinking about. For three days straight, I had a hard time thinking about anything other than Carolyn’s strength and independence—qualities I find deeply admirable—and what I would give to be a Calvin Klein publicist in 1990s New York City. Paul Kelly, the actor who plays John, delivers a compelling performance, capturing his charm, intelligence, and devotion to Carolyn. It’s difficult not to become emotionally invested in their relationship.
Although “Love Story” has faced backlash—most notably from Kennedy relative, Jack Schlossberg—it has remained wildly popular across social media. His criticism highlights a broader ethical question: what responsibility do filmmakers have when telling the stories of real people who have no say in how they are portrayed?
At the same time, when viewed on its own, the series presents John and Carolyn as fully realized individuals, highlighting their struggles, ambitions, and emotional complexity. This makes for a compelling narrative, but it also raises an important distinction—these are not fictional characters. John and Carolyn were real people and dramatization can easily blur that reality. The disclaimer at the beginning of each episode, noting that certain details have been altered for storytelling purposes, plays an important role in reminding viewers of that boundary.
Still, any form of romanticizing real lives, especially ones marked by tragedy, can be problematic. “Love Story” attempts to navigate this by portraying multiple dimensions of the couple’s experiences and allowing space for differing interpretations. Ultimately, what viewers should take from this series is not an idealized version of the 1990s or the Kennedy legacy, but an understanding of the inspiration behind the story, rather than a complete or definitive truth.
Family dynamics are also heavily featured throughout episodes, with episode three centering on Jackie Kennedy played by Naomi Watts as she struggles with health issues and her relationship with her children. I found this focus particularly profound, as she expresses her sadness at being permanently labeled as “America’s Widow,” a title that overshadowed both her past and future accomplishments. She also shares her wish for John to be able to live a normal life outside the shadow of his father, emphasizing that John F. Kennedy never intended to become a heroic figure, but rather a good person, one whose legacy ultimately became larger than himself.
In line with the cyclical nature of fashion trends, we are due for a 1990s-centered revival, and “Love Story” positions itself as the perfect face of this movement. As many people experience a desire for simpler, more stable times, the romanticization of this period reflects a longing for a world seemingly untouched by the chaos of social media, modern political tensions, and the current presidential climate. Not to say the 1990s were free of these challenges, but the yearning for the past continues to resurface.
Watching the series led me to wonder whether this revival is truly about John and Carolyn, or if it reflects what we want them to represent. The draw toward 1990s nostalgia suggests a larger love story, and that’s the one we have with the past itself. With everything happening in the world today, it’s easy to understand the appeal of a less chaotic time. And while this new obsession with the Kennedy world may serve as a form of escapism for some (myself included), there are certainly worse ways to step away and reset.