25 Years Of 'Gilmore Girls': Why We Still Feel At Home In Stars Hollow

A love letter to autumn, the fast-talking duo, and the comfort show that’s been fuelling our caffeine addiction and emotional dependency for decades now.

Gilmore girls

I write this as I press play on Gilmore Girls for what must be the thousandth time. No matter the season, literal or emotional, I somehow always end up back in Stars Hollow. It’s like muscle memory now. My thumb drifts toward that little corner of Netflix where Lorelai and Rory Gilmore wait with coffee cups in hand, ready to talk faster than my brain can process.

via GIPHY

I first watched Gilmore Girls when I was sixteen. Back then, I didn’t know that There She Goes by The La’s and a sixth cup of coffee could change my life forever. To some, it’s just another show, but to others (Dean Forester included), it’s a lifestyle, it’s a religion. Now I’m twenty-one, and somehow, the show feels both the same and completely different. One of the best things about it is how amazing it can be to be a regular at a small, cute restaurant. Luke's Diner lives rent-free in my head from the moment Lorelai Gilmore walks in, to the smirks, the chaos, the highs and lows it has seen it all, and it's lovely how Luke Danes was always there.

via GIPHY

Hardly any show captures comfort wrapped in chaotic humour like Gilmore Girls. There’s something hypnotic about that small-town rhythm — the 16-year-old knocked-up girl, the autumn leaves, the quirky festivals, the townspeople who are nosy enough to know everything about your life (and still want to help you). Stars Hollow feels like a dreamscape for anyone who’s ever longed for community, a place where everyone’s a little odd, but in the most endearing way.

via GIPHY

It’s why Gen Z, the supposed digital generation, keeps returning to it. In a world that moves too fast, this little town near Hartford doesn’t. It lingers. It lets you sit down, breathe, and remember what it feels like to belong somewhere — even if that somewhere only exists on screen. Not to be dramatic, but I don’t think I would be the woman I am today if it weren’t for watching this show pretty much every year since I can remember.

via GIPHY

While I love how the show bombarded me with pop culture references from The Donna Reed Show to Madame Bovary (and the ones I’m still unpacking on every rewatch), it’s so much more than caffeine addiction and fast-talking yappers. Lorelai and Rory taught us about life; they fought, they drifted apart, they came back together. Watching them feels like watching love evolve in real time. For those of us growing up, it offered a blueprint for emotional closeness, the kind we hope to find or rebuild in our own families. Let's face it, Lorelai was the OG generational trauma breaker, giving Rory the space and freedom while still holding her close.

via GIPHY

Gilmore Girls taught me just how important your chosen family can be, and yet how beautifully frustrating it is to stick by your real one. It showed me the power of female friendships, of wallowing through heartbreak, of second chances, of slow-burn romances, of everything that comes and goes, and is in-between.

via GIPHY

And yes, don’t let the knitwear fool you — there was drama. Rory’s love triangles and a constant need to be the best, Emily and Lorelai’s generational wars, and every town meeting spiralling into chaos kept you invested without ever losing its warmth. It was the perfect mix of enough tension to make you care, and enough charm to make you stay. In an era where television often leans into cynicism, this show reminds us that storytelling can be soft and strong at once. It’s drama that doesn’t drain you, raher it gives you a thousand yellow daisies.

Maybe it’s nostalgia. Maybe it’s the aesthetic — that eternal “fall in Connecticut” vibe. Or maybe it’s that Gilmore Girls understood something long before we did, life is rarely grand, but it’s always made up of small, beautiful moments strung together by the people who love us.

via GIPHY

In an age of burnout and doomscrolling, the show feels radical in its slowness. It’s about showing up for Friday night dinners, finding your people, and laughing through the chaos. And maybe that’s why we keep returning to it, year after year, episode after episode. Because beneath all the coffee cups, pop culture references, and fast talk, it’s really just about finding a home away from home.

Also Read:

August Slipped Away, Let's Talk About The September Air

Why Going Back To An Ex Feels Like ‘Rewatching Comfort Shows’

Related stories