Sept. 17, 2025. It is 3 a.m.—nearly 4 a.m.—and I am glued to the seat of my Vassar-issued rocking chair. My hands reach for the sky like an old woman at Sunday service. Taylor Swift’s song “Dress” has just started playing, and because it is so late, I am not sure if I am dreaming. In a daze, I reach for my phone and frantically scream, “IT’S HAPPENING. IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING” into a voice memo for my oldest friend. She is on the other side of the country, studying at Santa Clara University, yet we have never felt closer.
Such is the magic of Cousins Beach. Amazon Prime’s hit series “The Summer I Turned Pretty” (“TSITP”) recently concluded its third and final season, taking the world by storm and undeniably earning the title of ‘show of the summer.’ Set in the fictional town of Cousins, Massachusetts, the show follows Isabelle “Belly” Conklin as she navigates love, loss and the growing pains that accompany the transition into adulthood. Creator, showrunner and author of the original book series Jenny Han, who also penned “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” has long been praised for centering Asian-American protagonists and crafting heartfelt, female-led stories. In “The Summer I Turned Pretty,” she brings those same strengths to a new generation, helping viewers feel seen and understood. Between its all-consuming love triangle and Taylor Swift’s discography at the heart of the show’s soundtrack, “The Summer I Turned Pretty” has become not only a cultural phenomenon but a means for women and girls around the world to come together in droves.
Like nearly every piece of culture-defining media, this show certainly lends itself to a factioned fandom. Epic love triangles of the likes of Rory’s Dean, Jess and Logan from “Gilmore Girls” and Katniss, Peeta and Gale from “The Hunger Games” have divided avid consumers of young adult content—such as myself—for years; it is a community that has always taken their silver-screen boyfriends very seriously. This summer, it was impossible to escape the ever-pressing question: Are you Team Conrad or Team Jeremiah?
From TikTok edits to Tumblr-style fanart revivals, the online fandom around the series has blossomed into a full-fledged cultural community. Hashtags like #TeamConrad vs. #TeamJeremiah trended for weeks, but beyond the romance discourse, fans are using social media to open up about real-life issues such as self-esteem, body image, heartbreak and mental health. Fan fiction sites have seen a surge in “TSITP”-inspired writing, often reframing Belly’s story in empowering ways or giving side characters the spotlight. Book clubs have formed on Discord, Instagram Lives are flooded with character analyses, and even fashion influencers have embraced the “Cousins Beach aesthetic”—breezy sundresses, friendship bracelets and sun-kissed minimalism.
Unlike other fanbases, “The Summer I Turned Pretty” has done what the cynic in me thought impossible: united almost an entire nation under a common enemy. The rivalry for Belly’s love between brothers Conrad and Jeremiah Fisher came to a head this season, culminating in one of the largest nationwide celebrations since the Philadelphia Eagles won the Super Bowl back in February. Unfortunately for young Jeremiah, he has become the glue that has stuck an increasingly polarized society together in disdain. Rooting for Jeremiah’s downfall as much as wishing Conrad success in life and love brought us some much-needed community this summer.
Major cosmetic brands, the National Football League and Major League Baseball took to TikTok to express their pro-Conrad sentiments and weekly episode reactions. Han shared increasingly satisfying behind-the-scenes content as Belly and Conrad’s on-screen relationship grew stronger. Principle cast members Lola Tung (Belly Conklin), Christopher Briney (Conrad Fisher) and Gavin Casalegno (Jeremiah Fisher) were everywhere, appearing on billboards and the front page of tabloids, featuring in viral interview clips and even multiple articles from The New York Times. From June until now, Belly Conklin and her boys have been inescapable. So too has been the community their story brought together.
Rooting for Conrad—the brooding, emotionally complex older brother—has become something of a cultural phenomenon in and of itself, especially among young women who relate to his struggle with anxiety, family pressure and heartbreak. From TikTok tributes set to Phoebe Bridgers songs to meme-filled group chats—my own is called TEAM CONNIE BABY—cheering on Conrad Fisher has become a form of emotional solidarity. On X, fans have dissected his every glance and line of dialogue with academic intensity. On Instagram, reels romanticizing his sad-boy energy are racking up millions of views. But beneath the humor and crazed infatuation lies something real: a digital sisterhood built on shared emotional experience. For many, supporting a fictional character like Conrad offers a safe way to explore their own emotional growth and patterns in relationships.
What sets “The Summer I Turned Pretty” apart from other shows on the air is how it gives emotional nuance the space it deserves. Where many teen dramas hinge on shock value, Han’s show slows down, allowing characters—especially young women—to be soft, complex and flawed. Recently, Han took to social media to announce that this summery series will culminate not as suspected with Season Three, but with a movie set to come out in the next year or two. Han herself is poised to write and direct this final chapter in Belly and Conrad’s love story, and I cannot wait for the cultural moment that it will inevitably inspire. With Season Three drawing record engagement and fan events growing in scale, “The Summer I Turned Pretty” is proving that stories led by and for women are not only commercially viable—they are vital. Whether it is a teenager posting about her first crush, a college student rediscovering the books that shaped her or women bonding over a fictional boy’s soft side, the “Summer I Turned Pretty” community is a testament to how storytelling can forge real connection.
For Belly, “Everything good, everything magical happens between the months June and August.” And for once, I might just be able to say the same for myself, thanks to Jenny Han’s innate ability to unify through her work—thanks to “The Summer I Turned Pretty.”