Based on the unfortunately relatable lives of three Montreal girls, MISTAKES WERE MADE plunges us into that very specific chapter of your twenties where you believe everything should be fine, as it always was before, but somehow between sexual politics, hidden social media agendas and that thing called a career which in no way resembles your current job, you find yourself stumbling from one mistake to the next, blindly grasping at straws, or wine or… whatever else you may find.
“I totally love him. But sometimes I hate him so much that I can’t even breathe. But that’s normal, right?”
It’s time for her to let loose, catch up on the lost years, and reconnect with herself as a woman. And maybe, like, there’s something with a guy from work named John who may or may not have a girlfriend of his own. Maybe.
CLARA is totally sympathetic to Lizzie’s plight, but like, not really. She’s been liberated forever and trust—it’s not that easy to pull off. Clara strikes the very delicate balance of giving zero fucks, caring too much and shutting down, and sleeping with guys to empirically demonstrate the theory that love is a trivial pursuit.
“My whole life is a mistake, currently.”
When Lizzie’s life starts resembling her own in an uncomfortably similar way, Clara will go on a mission to prove to everyone that at least she doesn’t need shit. She is too busy being aloof to realize that perhaps the only trivial pursuit is chasing emptiness… because sooner or later, it inevitably finds you.
Watching the girls act a fool and taking an unwelcome stand, APRIL certainly has opinions on everything, even though they might not always make sense. She doesn’t need to act crazy or lead a liberated life because she has a boyfriend and Instagram.
“I would kill myself if I was single, honestly.”
But she’s Clara’s best friend since childhood, so best in fact, that they routinely are the worst friends ever, so she feels entitled to voice her various outlooks on life. They tell each other the type of things you know are true and never want to hear.
Welcome to twenty-something, where your friends are your family and your shit don’t stink. Except it does.