I’m conflicted about these Los Angeles episodes. Yes, it’s fun to see MomTok out of their element, having these “holy shit we made it” moments and witnessing the layers of persona they’re defining (“true” self, “Hulu shooting” self, “press” self, etc.). But when it’s almost an hour of wall-to-wall press mini-scenes, many of which are debates about what constitutes assault? Oof. I will say that if the goal was to make the viewer feel trapped in a claustrophobic loop between glam chair and sprinter van with nonstop tension the entire time, it was a success. I’m sweaty. Anxious. Desperate to disassociate alone in a hotel robe.

No time for that, though, because it’s a huge week for MomTok’s career. We are back at the Sofitel, and what a treat — for just a moment, we get to look out a window b

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