Brianna Hildebrand
Elodie Davis
Trinkets
“Friendship is priceless. Everything else you can steal.”
2019
2 Seasons • 20 Episodes
Overview
A grieving teen finds an unexpected connection with two classmates at her new high school after they all land in the same Shoplifters Anonymous group.
Cast
9 people
Reviews
6 min read AI-generated editorial review
The Things We Steal to Feel Less Alone
I keep thinking about the first time Elodie, Moe, and Tabitha meet. Not in the fluorescent glare of the Shoplifters Anonymous circle—that’s where the plot says they should bond—but in the dim, flickering light of a convenience store parking lot, sharing a cigarette like it’s the last one on earth. There’s no grand speech, no instant recognition of kindred spirits. Just three girls, each carrying a grief so specific it might as well be a different language, passing a smoke between them like a secret. That’s the moment Trinkets understands something fundamental about teenage loneliness: it’s not about being alone. It’s about being surrounded by people who don’t know the right questions to ask.
Netflix’s Trinkets (2019–2020) is a show that could’ve easily slipped into the void of forgettable teen dramas, another glossy exercise in angst and Instagram-ready aesthetics. But it doesn’t. Instead, it lingers in the quiet corners of grief, addiction, and the strange, desperate ways we try to fill the holes in our lives—whether with stolen trinkets, bad boys, or the fleeting comfort of people who understand the shape of our silence. The show’s greatest trick isn’t its premise (three shoplifting teens form an unlikely friendship) but its refusal to turn that premise into a spectacle. These girls aren’t glamorous outlaws; they’re kids who’ve learned that taking things—objects, risks, attention—is easier than asking for help.
The series is based on the 2013 YA novel by Kirsten “Kiwi” Smith (co-writer of Legally Blonde and 10 Things I Hate About You), and it carries the DNA of those films: sharp, self-aware, and unafraid to let its characters be messy. But where Legally Blonde winks at the audience, Trinkets often looks away, letting its moments of vulnerability breathe without the safety net of a punchline. That’s not to say it’s humorless—far from it. The show’s dialogue crackles with the kind of wit that feels organic to teenagers who’ve learned to deflect pain with sarcasm. But the humor never undercuts the stakes. When Moe (Kiana Madeira) deadpans, “I don’t have a problem, I have a lifestyle,” it’s funny because it’s true. She’s not just stealing; she’s performing a version of herself that feels more real than the grieving, abandoned daughter she’s supposed to be.
Madeira’s performance is a masterclass in physical restraint. Moe is all sharp edges—her posture rigid, her smiles too quick, her laughter a beat too late. There’s a scene in the first season where she’s caught shoplifting by a store employee, and instead of the expected meltdown, she goes eerily still. Her face doesn’t crumple; it flattens, like she’s pressing herself into a smaller shape to avoid being seen. It’s a heartbreaking contrast to the way she carries herself around her friends, where she’s all swagger and sarcasm. Madeira plays the gap between those two versions of Moe with such precision that you can practically see the effort it takes her to keep the mask in place.
I keep thinking about the first time Elodie, Moe, and Tabitha meet. Not in the fluorescent glare of the Shoplifters Anonymous circle—that’s where the plot says they should bond—but in the dim, flickering light of a convenience store parking lot, sharing a cigarette like it’s the last one on earth. There’s no grand speech, no instant recognition of kindred spirits. Just three girls, each carrying a grief so specific it might as well be a different language, passing a smoke between them like a secret. That’s the moment Trinkets understands something fundamental about teenage loneliness: it’s not about being alone. It’s about being surrounded by people who don’t know the right questions to ask.
Netflix’s Trinkets (2019–2020) is a show that could’ve easily slipped into the void of forgettable teen dramas, another glossy exercise in angst and Instagram-ready aesthetics. But it doesn’t. Instead, it lingers in the quiet corners of grief, addiction, and the strange, desperate ways we try to fill the holes in our lives—whether with stolen trinkets, bad boys, or the fleeting comfort of people who understand the shape of our silence. The show’s greatest trick isn’t its premise (three shoplifting teens form an unlikely friendship) but its refusal to turn that premise into a spectacle. These girls aren’t glamorous outlaws; they’re kids who’ve learned that taking things—objects, risks, attention—is easier than asking for help.
The series is based on the 2013 YA novel by Kirsten “Kiwi” Smith (co-writer of Legally Blonde and 10 Things I Hate About You), and it carries the DNA of those films: sharp, self-aware, and unafraid to let its characters be messy. But where Legally Blonde winks at the audience, Trinkets often looks away, letting its moments of vulnerability breathe without the safety net of a punchline. That’s not to say it’s humorless—far from it. The show’s dialogue crackles with the kind of wit that feels organic to teenagers who’ve learned to deflect pain with sarcasm. But the humor never undercuts the stakes. When Moe (Kiana Madeira) deadpans, “I don’t have a problem, I have a lifestyle,” it’s funny because it’s true. She’s not just stealing; she’s performing a version of herself that feels more real than the grieving, abandoned daughter she’s supposed to be.
Madeira’s performance is a masterclass in physical restraint. Moe is all sharp edges—her posture rigid, her smiles too quick, her laughter a beat too late. There’s a scene in the first season where she’s caught shoplifting by a store employee, and instead of the expected meltdown, she goes eerily still. Her face doesn’t crumple; it flattens, like she’s pressing herself into a smaller shape to avoid being seen. It’s a heartbreaking contrast to the way she carries herself around her friends, where she’s all swagger and sarcasm. Madeira plays the gap between those two versions of Moe with such precision that you can practically see the effort it takes her to keep the mask in place.
Buzz & Rumors
Public reports AI-researched entertainment notes
Trinkets Tea Time: The Surprisingly Wholesome Gossip Behind Netflix’s Klepto Queens
Three teen shoplifters, messy relationships, Portland angst… Trinkets had all the ingredients for chaotic behind‑the‑scenes drama. But when you crack open the vault on this Netflix gem, the real shocker is how ridiculously well‑behaved everyone actually was. Still, there is tea — it’s just more oat‑milk‑latte than flaming tequila shot.
On-Set Drama (Or, Lack Thereof)
- Instead of feuds, the production kicked off with a team-building field trip. Kiana Madeira (Moe) says director Sara St. Onge took the three leads — Madeira, Brianna Hildebrand (Elodie), and Quintessa Swindell (Tabitha) — bowling on the very first day they met. According to Kiana, they instantly realized they shared the same twisted sense of humor, and that vibe carried all the way through to the final day of Season 2
. - Madeira describes the set as a total laugh-fest: “We were constantly laughing and cracking jokes on set” [1]. So if you were hoping for screaming matches in the hair trailer…you’re going to be disappointed.
Cast Feuds & Tea
- After combing fan forums, Twitter, and coverage, there are no credible reports of cast feuds, icy group chats, or subtweet wars tied to Trinkets.
- Everything publicly on record paints the core trio as disgustingly supportive of each other. Madeira outright says, “I truly love Brianna and Quintessa. We have a beautiful friendship” [1].
- Any “beef” around Trinkets lives in the reviews, not the cast. Some critics called the show “inoffensively bland” and dragged it for low-key drama levels , but that’s about the only real-world “dragging” anyone involved received.
Romance Rumors & Real-Life Love Stories
- Fans definitely speculated about the sexuality and love lives of the cast, but here’s what’s confirmed:
- Brianna Hildebrand was already out as queer before Trinkets and spoke publicly about living with her girlfriend, set decorator Jonneke Grisham, in an interview tied to her Deadpool fame . So while Elodie is a lesbian on screen, Brianna was also living a very real queer love story off-screen.
- Quintessa Swindell (Tabitha) publicly identifies as non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. Autostraddle highlights Swindell as openly sharing their journey of figuring out who they are and how they identify, adding extra authenticity to the show’s inclusive vibe .
- Kiana Madeira’s romantic life is pure soft-launch-goals. She’d been with fellow actor Lovell Adams-Gray for years; they got engaged in 2021 and then had a “dream” wedding in Cabo San Lucas in 2023 . Outlets like People and Toronto Life even noted Trinkets among her notable credits while fawning over the royal-themed nuptials [2]. No co-star hook-up rumors with Brianna or Quintessa surfaced in reputable coverage — anything beyond that is pure fanfiction.
Scandals & Controversies
- The main “scandal” around Trinkets isn’t about the cast at all — it’s the show’s relationship with crime:
- Commentators questioned whether the series was a “cautionary tale or glamorization of crime,” noting that the girls’ stylish shoplifting antics sometimes look a little too fun for comfort .
- A piece in That’s Normal bluntly raises the issue of whether the show unintentionally glamorizes kleptomania while trying to explore addiction [6].
- Common Sense Media flags the series for its shoplifting theme and mature content — language, intimacy, and crime — positioning it as a show parents might want to pre-screen .
- Creatively, though, the show leans hard into social commentary and queerness. Autostraddle calls it “SO GAY” and points out that not only is Elodie a lesbian on screen, but Brianna Hildebrand is queer IRL, and the toxic rocker love interest Sabine is played by queer musician Kat Cunning [4]. That authenticity became a big talking point in queer media, but in a positive way — not a scandal.
Leaks, Cuts & The Cancellation Question
- No major leaks, lawsuits, or catastrophic “Netflix lost the ending!” situations showed up in the record. What we do have is controlled, almost suspiciously tidy planning:
- When Trinkets was renewed, Netflix simultaneously announced that Season 2 would be the final season. Creator Kirsten “Kiwi” Smith told Seventeen they embraced the idea of ending sooner rather than later .
- Smith said she loved that the series concludes at a point where fans can just imagine the trio “going to be friends forever,” instead of dragging them through college, adult life, and inevitable friend drift [5]. In other words, the writers wanted a clean emotional mic drop — and they got it.
- Fans were bummed, but there was no huge #SaveTrinkets campaign meltdown like other Netflix cancellations. Because the ending actually wrapped things up, most coverage framed the show’s demise as a “natural end”, not an outrage [5].
Wild Trivia & Behind-the-Scenes Nuggets
- Writer’s room girl gang: Autostraddle clocked that “all but one” episode was written by women and all but two were directed by women, something the reviewer said they could basically feel from the way the friendship and queer storylines were handled [4].
- Portland, but make it cozy: Madeira raved about filming in Portland and called out The Living Room Theater as a favorite chill zone for the cast when they weren’t shooting [1].
- Queer cred turned up to 11: One queer outlet practically squealed over the fact that you’ve got a queer lead (Hildebrand), a non-binary star (Swindell), and a queer musician (Kat Cunning) all central to the story, describing the show’s friendship as having “tattooed itself on [their] heart like a stick-and-poke at a house party” [4].
- Theft… only in character: In MTV and Netflix promo appearances, the cast joked around about the theme of shoplifting and souvenirs, but there are no credible reports that anyone went full Method and actually robbed the props department. Any “we took a little something from set” chatter stays in the realm of the normal tiny keepsakes other productions admit to [8].
Bottom line: if you came here hoping Trinkets was secretly a cursed set of feuds, affairs, and stolen Gucci, the real twist is that the messiest thing about this show is still Brady’s behavior on screen. Off camera, the girls bowled, bonded, got married (off to other people), and walked away drama-free — like emotionally stable adults. The real crime? How wholesome it all turned out.
Entertainment rumors and trivia aggregated from public reporting. Treat speculation as unverified unless a cited source confirms it.
Series
Similar Series
Related series ranked by rating and popularity.
Star Trek
1966 • Series
El Chavo del Ocho
1973 • Series
One Tree Hill
2003 • Series
That '70s Show
1998 • Series
My Dress-Up Darling
2022 • Series
Extracurricular
2020 • Series
3rd Rock from the Sun
1996 • Series
The Crowded Room
2023 • Series
Made for Love
2021 • Series
Boston Public
2000 • Series
This Life
1996 • Series
Project: Anchor SPM
2021 • Series