Courtney Gilberto, a 39-year-old mom who once played “tie-dye girl” in the 1998 Parent Trap, watches The Summer I Turned Pretty with her 10-year-old daughter. “It reminds me of young love—being wanted by multiple boys and feeling everything for the first time,” she says. It’s no wonder women like Gilberto are hooked to the series: Some read Jenny Han’s books as teens, while others found them later in life and never looked back.
At 36, I’m also a proud TSITP fan. Since the TV adaptation’s 2022 release, I’ve watched it on repeat, smiling at the screen and soaking in every magical moment. I even named my cat after its star, Lola Tung. The show taps into a hazy, fragmented chapter of my life—girlhood shaped by trauma, neurodivergence, and emotions I never fully understood.
Years ago in rehab for severe OCD, I tore through the books in days, looping the show’s official Spotify playlist like a security blanket. Han’s world grounded me when everything else felt like it was slipping away. Certain lingering memories felt fresh, like giggling at the mall, sneaking into house parties, and talking to boys. Like the protagonist Belly, I remember the first time a boy noticed me—how thrilling and confusing it felt. I didn’t know what I wanted, only that I wanted to be wanted. For so long, this mindset kept me stuck, afraid of getting hurt. So, I avoided love instead of leaning in.
TSITP captures that in-between space where girlhood and desire blur, and everything feels both electric and uncertain. That messy, persistent feeling is what makes it so resonant for women like me. Belly’s confusion, as she’s caught in a love triangle between brothers Jeremiah and Conrad Fisher, mirrors that of our own first loves—and the emotional chaos some of us never quite outgrew.
“The Summer I Turned Pretty is especially appealing to Gen X, Millennials, and Gen Z because it’s tender, layered, and psychologically rich,” says Deborah Robbins, a therapist who specializes in relationships and attachment. “It blends nostalgia, emotional intensity, and romantic fantasy in a way that taps into our earliest understandings of love and longing.” She explains that the series unconsciously connects adult viewers to the TV we grew up on. “Shows like Beverly Hills, 90210, Saved by the Bell, and My So-Called Life were the foremothers of this kind of love triangle storytelling. They laid the emotional blueprint, which is why we still find ourselves entangled in these dynamics decades later.”
Gilberto and I are just two of the countless adult fans who’ve fallen under Han’s spell. That devotion has spilled offscreen and into the real world, inspiring TSITP-themed watch parties, bachelorette trips, dinner parties, and even bar nights.
On TikTok, adult fans like Natalie Geering have gone viral for crafting full-on TSITP bachelorette experiences, complete with Cousins Beach-style decor and coastal color palettes. Others, like Ally (@allyleeannh), have hosted dreamy, sun-drenched “Cousins Beach dinners” with show-inspired dishes and tablescapes designed to channel the soft, summery vibe of the series. These events are about more than aesthetic—they’re about recreating the emotional world of the show in real life, giving fans a chance to step into it together.
Recently Sai Ananda, a TSITP superfan and 20-something woman, discovered a themed bar night at NYC’s Blue Haven through an Instagram ad. “I’ve been there before,” she says, “but it was the first time the room was 90 percent women.” She and a friend grabbed a table, ordered on-brand cocktails like The Belly and The Conrad, and watched the episode on every screen. “We cheered, laughed, and cringed together—it felt like a real community.” Since she posted a TikTok about it, reservations have gotten harder to book. “I’m going again next week,” she adds.
There’s no shortage of creative fan content around The Summer I Turned Pretty—from “The Summer I____” memes and deep-dive theories to TikToks recutting scenes with early 2000s tracks. Some fans have even reimagined the show as if it aired during “the golden era of YA,” according to Rereading the Revolution podcast co-host Daphne, who chose not to share her last name. On TikTok, she posts videos dream-casting the show with early 2010s icons like Dylan O’Brien and Logan Lerman. Because the first TSITP book was published in 2009, she wondered “which popular actors from early 2010s YA media hypothetically may have been considered for the roles.”
“We’re the generation that grew up with iconic teen dramas and love triangles—Dawson’s Creek, One Tree Hill, The Vampire Diaries—and now, with TSITP, that fandom is alive again,” says Laura, the 27-year-old TV and film content creator behind the account @NotSoCriticallyAcclaimed, who chose to keep her last name private. She praises Han as “a mastermind of love stories” who’s “perfectly captured what it was like to be in high school and college and navigate life and love.”
The show also boasts a playfulness that fuels the fandom’s lighter, more self-aware side: part of the online frenzy comes from roasting the characters, bonding over how over-the-top or implausible certain plot points can feel. From the infamous “tiny engagement ring” to the fact that Belly dates two brothers, fans turn absurdity into affectionate inside jokes. It’s the kind of teasing you share with friends, reminding us that you can both swoon over something and laugh at it at the same time. Plus, with season 3 now underway, participating in the TSITP online chatter every week has felt extremely fun. It’s a much-needed reprieve from the chaos outside our TV screens. Even brands have gotten in on the fun—Nello posted a mocktail they’d make for Conrad; Delta shared which airplane seats they’d assign the boys; and the actor who plays Conrad, Christopher Briney, even popped up in a Panera commercial, winking at the fandom’s obsession.
Across TikTok, fans are building community through personal and emotional reflections on the show. Colleen Marshall, 37, is a longtime TSITP viewer who regularly posts content dissecting scenes and musical choices. “The kids and the adults deal with everything from heartbreak and friendship to grief and self-love,” she says. “These characters aren’t perfect—they’re flawed and still growing, which makes it easy to see ourselves in them.” She believes that’s what drives so much engagement: “Everyone sees the show through their own lens. There’s no one right way to interpret it—and that’s the beauty.”
As a Swiftie, Marshall also sees a clear connection between the two fandoms. “Taylor’s lyrics mean different things to different people, and Jenny Han took a page from her playbook,” she explains, referencing the show’s use of Easter eggs and symbolic needle drops. “It gives fans space to analyze, participate, and build community—which is really hard to come by these days.”
But beneath all the symbolism and nostalgia lies something even deeper: the emotional pull of first love. “If you had a Conrad of your own, the show brings you back to your feels,” says Gilberto. So many adult women remember that messy first love that wrecked us in all the right and wrong ways. Season 3, episode 5 deepens that ache by shifting into Conrad’s perspective, revealing the depth of his longing and the quiet sacrifices he makes to protect the people he loves. And episode 6 hit even harder with a steamy exchange as Belly cleaned up Conrad’s injury.
Conrad’s yearning and mannerisms have drawn comparisons to Mr. Darcy and Anthony Bridgerton. Others noted parallels to Jess from Gilmore Girls and Jay Gatsby. Belly’s best friend Taylor has been compared to Laguna Beach icon Kristin Cavallari. Meanwhile the show even nods to the ultimate Millennial and Gen X romantic drama, The Notebook, especially in episode 5: Conrad repairs the roof of his house just like Noah did, and shares a flirtatious, wine-soaked meal with Belly that mirrors Allie and Noah’s iconic dinner scene. That cinematic reference only heightens the emotional impact.
Belly’s connection with Conrad feels sensual, romantic, and effortless—the kind of love you hope to find again as an adult, only softer, safer, and real. I spent most of my life aching for that kind of connection, to be truly seen. And only recently, in my mid-thirties, did I finally find it. Not with an avoidant partner like the younger Conrad, but with someone who shares the emotional depth and steadiness of the grown-up Conrad. Someone who made love feel less like chaos and more like coming home.
In a world that often feels overwhelmingly real, Deborah Robbins adds, The Summer I Turned Pretty offers more than just escapism. “Even if we’ve outgrown fairytales, most of us are still carrying around that little voice wondering, what if it could still end happily ever after?” That blend of fantasy and familiarity is exactly what makes the show resonate so deeply with women who came of age in the early 2000s. “The music choices and storyline are so reminiscent of summer back then,” adds Gilberto. TSITP is more than a teen drama—it’s a time machine, a soft, glittering portal to the versions of ourselves we used to be, and maybe still are.