It is located on a quiet side street just off the avenue de Friedland in the eighth arrondissement, north of the Champs-Élysées and south of the Parc Monceau, an area where few tourists ever wander. Certainly, there’s little about the restaurant from the street that would attract the attention of a casual stroller.

And yet, inside lies one of the best fish restaurants in all of Paris, at least on the same level as La Table d’Akihiro.

The restaurant consists of three rooms, done in a minimalist style.

On a Tuesday lunch, the clientèle was exclusively well-heeled French diners. I heard nothing other than French spoken, although there were a couple upon leaving that looked as though they might have been American. Suit jackets were virtually mandatory for males (L managed to spot but a single male diner in shirtsleeves); this is more formality than I’ve observed in a Paris restaurant in a very long time.

If you don’t want to eat fish, don’t come here — the only non-fish dishes are cèpes, cheese, and dessert:

As tempting as so many dishes on the carte were, we decided to go with the lunch menu on this visit, and if it proved worthy of another visit (spoiler: it did), we’d come back for dinner and order some of the other dishes.

The wine list is very good, if a bit idiosyncratic. There are no Jura wines and relatively few whites from Alsace and the Loire, and even from Burgundy, there are no Pouilly-Fuissé or other Pouillys. The main portion of the list for whites is taken up by Burgundy, but I wondered in many cases why the restaurant stocked a particular wine. and not another. Nevertheless, no one will have a problem finding a very good bottle to go with the meal in any price range (there are, of course, wines by the glass, too). There are also red wines, should you want some. Markups are reasonable, especially for a one-star restaurant.

We chose a white 2021 Monthélie from the excellent, if under-the-radar, Meursault-based producer Jean-Philippe Fichet:

Monthélie straddles Meursault and Volnay, and the whites can resemble the former while the reds can resemble the latter, but from a less warm climate. This wine showed outstanding minerality with some roundness. It was delicious on its own and also with the food.

We started with an amuse-bouche of a fish spread on an parmesan biscuit:

This was a very good opener, one that primed the palate for what was to come.

For her first course, L took the heart of salmon with horseradish cream served on a potato round:

We both found this dish blander than we expected (more horseradish!). But if you took the salmon away from the potato and added some salt and olive oil (which was already on the table), it came alive, and then adding some olive oil to the excellent potatoes made them interesting on their own, too.

I took the thin slices of black mullet in a Thai marinade:

The contrast with the salmon was enormous. Rather than being on the bland side, this was a dish with plenty of energy, depth, and precision — a real star.

L took the rouget for her main course, a favorite fish of hers:

This was as simple, pure, and excellent as it looks in the picture.

I took the steamed cabillaud (codfish) with a sauce vierge. I was interested in seeing what this restaurant could do with the most common of fish that one finds in French restaurants.

The portion was generous, and the quality of the fish was impeccable — showing cabillaud at its very ideal.

With the main dishes, we had sides of roasted potatoes and carrots:

Both were excellently done, and in fact, the potatoes surpassed expectations of what could be done with them.

The dessert chariot (we came on the late side, so most diners had already chosen their desserts):

L took the fig tart (out of focus here):

I took the lemon custard tart:

Both were intense, balanced, and not overly sweet.

I took an espresso to finish the meal, and with it were excellent mignardises:

A collection of lures on my way to the loo:

And the bill, a remarkable value for a lunch of this quality:

Chef Sébastien Carmona-Porto has created a gem with Helen. As presently constituted, the restaurant will never get more than a single Michelin star because two- and three-star restaurants are the opposite of the noble austerity of his cooking and the room here. So much the better for the restaurant’s afishionados!

Helen
3, rue Berryer, 75008 Paris
Tél: 01 40 76 40 76
website: restauranthelen.com
Tu-Fri lunch and dinner, Sat dinner
Métro: George V (1), Charles de Gaulle/Étoile (1, 2, 6), Ternes (2), St-Philippe du Roule (9)

All images copyright Claude Kolm.

Introducing Contributor, Claude Kolm

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The rain — which had been falling for a record 36 days in a row — stops just as quickly as it started. Sun peeks through the clouds. The river waters recede, and their flooded banks begin to dry out. This is a typical series of events as spring struggles to break forth from the gray winter days, though an inundation like this hasn’t been seen in 25 years. And while it’s still early, the migration of the cranes around the third week of February — squawking and filling the sky with a mesmerizing formation — makes you realize you’re almost there. Spring is coming. You can feel it before you can see it.

As the sky dims, I glance at my watch. 19h 06 — just after 7 pm. The days are getting longer, I think to myself, as memories of my first magical spring and summer here wash over me. As a community, we are plotting and planning for longer, warmer days. On Monday, I took off with my friends Michael and Anna to explore two vineyards as possible stops for a women’s retreat we’re cohosting in April. From the chai at Château Hostens-Picant, we hear the melodic klink of glass as wine is bottled. It was blessedly sunny, and when I try to take photos to capture the beauty of our second château, the sun is so bright I can barely photograph it. Oh well. After having lived in Germany for three years before moving to southwest France, I miss the abundance of tulips and daffodils. But here, fragrant yellow primroses dot the country roads, and flowering almond trees break up the landscape. The vines have already been trimmed, ready to welcome the next season of growth. That same anticipation is already building — and it’s showing up at the table, too.

The fields of Château Hostens-Picant, and the grounds of Château Couronneau (plus 3 fluffy puppies!)

In early spring, root vegetable season has not yet seen fit to release us. Carrots, potatoes, and turnips grace almost every plate in various forms. Puréed. Mashed. Roasted. By now, it’s easy to tire of them, craving the first spring crops that will transform our plates with a freshness and crispness that has been sorely missed. But this doesn’t stop my friend Sophie — even in mid-March, she forages in her garden for herbs to make a green salad to accompany a creamy Brillat-Savarin, a delightful cheese that’s been around since 1890. Curious, I texted a few days later to ask which herbs she’d used, beyond the dandelion and mint leaves I’d spotted. Her reply: «Aaaaah, c’était bon, hein!? C’est mon savoir-faire. Je vais organiser des weekends de stages… nouveau projet ; )» She had absolutely no intention of telling me. I wrote back that I’d be her first stagiaire. And that, it turns out, is a very seasonal thing to be.

Dinner at Sophie’s is always an adventure! This time, she invited several French “débutants” and encouraged us to speak French. Malheureusement, the “poule au pot” evaded my photos.

Spring is stagiaire season. Across southwest France, high-school-aged kids fan out into restaurants, florists, and shops for their required job placements — earnest, a little awkward, learning their way around adult responsibilities. The small restaurants like Michael and Anna’s are thrilled to have the help, and there’s something genuinely lovely about watching people smile patiently as these kids find their footing. The town, in a way, becomes a gentle classroom.

And then there’s the other seasonal arrival that transforms little Castillon-la-Bataille. The first spring in our new home, we’d spotted the signs announcing the dates of the annual Easter carnival. We just didn’t anticipate the scale of it, especially since the town’s Marché de Noël was small and rather contained. But for this, big rigs rumbled in, the carnies made camp down by the river, and their rides and stalls stretched 650 meters up the main road. This, I’ve since learned, is a beloved French Easter tradition — traveling fairs that pop up in villages and cities alike. Last year, I rode one of the spinning rides, full of bravado. The first half was genuinely thrilling. The second half — well, let’s just say I was grateful when it ended, and only a bowl of ramen noodles could fix the nauseated feeling in my stomach. Unfortunately, the rain kept most people away, but the carnies were a warm presence in our local restaurants, patient and good-humored, waiting like everyone else for a little sun. Not unlike the roses.

Now it’s time to trim them in all their forms. The climbing roses that seem to know no limit, the rose trees in large pots that flank the heavy doors of these magnificent Girondine homes, and, of course, the bushes. The gardener cuts off the dead canes and shapes them for the next year. They haven’t had much time to rest — the last flowers were still blooming in November, even December. But the leaves are already starting to emerge, subtly signaling the season ahead. It’s probably too early, but I plant a couple of perennials from the garden shop to fill a couple of empty spots in the garden. When I need to stretch my legs, I use a stick to twirl and fling the string algae that forms in the pond while the goldfish dart about. I keep a special eye out for our baby goldfish, a shocking surprise the first time I laid eyes on him. Or her. That little fish may be 1/50 the size of the others, but it’s got “main character energy” now, doing everything that the big fish do. I even spotted it eating fish food for the first time the other day. Everything here seems to be doing two things at once: finishing winter and beginning spring. I think I am too.

There’s a particular pleasure in living somewhere that makes you look forward to the next season while you’re still standing in this one. That’s early spring in southwest France. Everything is almost.

À la prochain,

Valérie

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Bonne lecture,

Judy

I didn’t know about the award when I walked into the Kelvin Club last evening.

I was there for Kelvin Confidential, James Hewison’s intimate interview series, because Mick Harvey was the guest and I wanted to hear what he had to say. Fifty years in music, The Birthday Party, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and a solo career that keeps surprising people. A life lived so deeply inside sound that I imagined even his silences would be interesting.

The bar was more full than usual. I squeezed into the second row, centre, close enough to watch his face when he answered. He has that quality some artists carry, of seeming to exist slightly apart from the noise of things, even when the noise is applause for him. He’d think before answering, and more than once laughed and said “it was a long time ago,” reaching back through fifty years of memories and music with the air of someone who had lived it rather than catalogued it.

It was only when Hewison raised it that I learned France had just named Harvey a Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres [Knight of the Order of Arts and Letters], one of its highest cultural honours. The recognition was for something Harvey had spent thirty years doing quietly, almost stubbornly: translating and interpreting the songs of Serge Gainsbourg for ears that had never heard them.

Harvey described the honour as “very flattering,” then moved on. The work was clearly what interested him, not the medal.

But it was something else he said that I keep returning to. Asked how he approached the translation of Gainsbourg’s songs, he paused and said something to the effect that music cannot be described in words. That language always falls short. In that sense, music is untranslatable.

I smiled. I agreed.

Here was the man France had just honoured for translating the untranslatable, telling a room full of people that the thing he’d spent three decades doing was, in some fundamental way, impossible.

The Italians have a phrase: traduttore, traditore. Translator, traitor. The pun itself dissolves in any other language, which rather makes the point. Robert Frost said something similar about poetry, that it is precisely what gets lost in translation. Gainsbourg’s songs were poetry, layered with wordplay, irony, and a very particular Parisian darkness that seemed inseparable from the French that made it.

Hewison pressed the point gently. You didn’t only translate these songs, he said. You interpreted them. Harvey agreed, and that distinction is where the whole thing opens up. Translation is an act of fidelity, of service to something that already exists. Interpretation is something else: bringing yourself so completely to the work that what comes out the other side could only have come from you. Harvey did both, and the friction between them is where his Gainsbourg albums live.

The connection began in 1980s West Berlin, where Harvey had moved with Nick Cave, the city humming with French exiles carrying their music with them. Something in Gainsbourg’s world lodged and never left. Across four albums over two decades, he translated and interpreted fifty compositions, working to hold the rhyme, the metre, and the meaning together, a task he once described as walking through a minefield.

Nick Cave received the same French honour last year, and sitting there watching Harvey speak, I wasn’t surprised. There’s something these two Australians share with Gainsbourg himself that France clearly recognises: darkness worn elegantly, literature inside popular music, provocation that actually means something.

Gainsbourg died in 1991, having spent much of his life being scandalous, difficult and magnificent. President Mitterrand called him “notre Baudelaire, notre Apollinaire” [our Baudelaire, our Apollinaire]. France canonises its provocateurs. It tends to do it after the fact, but it does it wholeheartedly.

By honouring Harvey, France said something quietly radical: that carrying a culture across a border, with devotion and artistry and no native claim to it, is itself an act worth a chevalier. Harvey interpreted a man whose genius was inseparable from the French language and gave that genius a new life in another tongue.

He sat in that bar at the Kelvin Club, a man France had just honoured for translating the untranslatable, speaking about an artist whose work was built on exactly the things that resist translation. And somehow, across thirty years and an ocean, he had translated them anyway.

Traduttore, traditore. Translator, traitor. Or, in Mick Harvey’s case: Musician, translator, chevalier.

À bientôt,

Judy

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Introducing Contributor, Judy MacMahon:

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I’m always just a little bit stumped when someone asks me what my favorite church in Paris is; not surprisingly, because there are nearly 200 churches in Paris. Even though I’ve lived here for seven years, I am constantly discovering my newest “favorite church” each week.

But when someone asks me for my opinion on the most sacred experience in Paris, which has come to be my most recent expertise as the Founder of Sacred Paris, I do not hesitate for a second…

I will never forget, and it never gets old, the first time I was sitting in Sacré Cœur for the 10 pm Mass when the lights began to go out one-by-one at the end of the service. I was there to participate in the “Night of Adoration,” an all-night vigil that takes place in the basilica every single night.

The “Night of Adoration” in Paris is truly a hidden sacred experience; many people do not know about it, including lifetime Parisians.

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Since 1885, the Basilica of Sacré Cœur has been home to an unbroken circle of prayer. Day and night, without pause, the Blessed Sacrament has been exposed on the altar, drawing pilgrims, seekers, and silent souls into its radiant presence. This continuous adoration was established as an act of reparation and devotion after the violence and upheaval of the Paris Commune, and it has quietly endured through wars, occupations, and the changing tides of time. What began as a solemn vow by a small group of faithful Parisians has become one of the longest uninterrupted prayer vigils in the world, a hidden heartbeat of Paris that still welcomes anyone, at any hour, to come and sit in stillness before the mystery - and heart of it all.

I was so moved by my very first experience that I vowed to participate as often as possible - this was one of the intimate sacred experiences I cultivated for myself as a pilgrim living in Paris before creating Sacred Paris. And when I started Sacred Paris, I knew this would be one of the signature experiences that I would share with others.

I host a small circle of women each month for a “Night of Adoration” at Sacré Cœur, and it has become one of my very favorite experiences that I guide in the city - and by far what I feel is THE most sacred experience in Paris.

In addition to this, I offer this night of vigil when I can to the guests that I guide on pilgrimage to the South of France - it is the very best way to drop into the sacred here in France before heading South into deeper energy. And, of course, I also guide guests privately when they visit and want to be held through this experience.

Last month, sometime between 4 am and 5 am, I found myself in awe of a woman who was in a full-body prayer in the middle of the aisle - in absolute awe of her devotion. And this isn’t uncommon, I’ve seen Boy Scouts, and whole families with young children. I’ve seen people of all ages, and lovers praying together - each night that I stay to add my prayers to this unbroken chain of 135 years, I am met with divine love and magic.

And, each circle that I have the great honor of guiding is filled with sisters of all faiths, of all backgrounds, and most often sisters from all corners of the world. We come together as love, in prayer, at the very top of Paris for the most sacred experience in the city.

Patricia

Introducing Contributor, Patricia Russo

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The 19th century saw many changes in Paris. Perhaps the biggest change was the massive modernization push under Baron Haussmann that lasted nearly 20 years. This is the Paris we know today.

During that century, the middle class grew, and many urbanites had more money to spend. That meant shopping was no longer just for the very rich. Then, in 1852, a new department store — Au Bon Marché, said to be the world’s first — revolutionized the way people shopped.

It offered:

• items at a fixed price, which meant no bargaining or haggling with shopkeepers

• a sensory experience where people could touch and feel items for sale

• a greater variety of goods under one roof like clothing, furniture, haberdashery, etc

Most importantly, from a cultural perspective, Au Bon Marché offered shopping as a leisure activity.

But how to draw in customers?

During the latter half of the 19th century, posters became a popular way to advertise a product or business. Talented illustrators were commissioned to create attractive advertisements to lure consumers into buying the best French chocolate, the finest clothing, or a new travel destination. The use of lithography and color printing led to an explosion of poster-making right into the 20th century. (Click on this link to read my article about those cool French posters)

But it wasn’t just posters that brought customers to the store…

Enter the chromo-carte

The man who built Au Bon Marché, Aristide Boucicault, was something of a marketing maven. He came up with the unique concept of printing little palm-sized cards to hand out (for free) to customers when they entered his store.

One example is below, from a series called Le Chien Savant or ‘The Clever Dog’:

Each chromo-carte had a picture drawn on the front and the details of the store on the back — think 19th century trading cards. The pictures ranged from fables to cartoons to patriotic scenes. Every week there would be a new picture to entice customers to return to see what the next one would be. This little gimmick was a way to spark a little excitement in the children who’d be dragged around the store by their mothers. (Women and children made up the majority of clientele.)

Below are two cards Au Bon Marché created for a series about Cinderella.

The caption below reads: “She would go and sit by the fireplace in the ashes, which is why she was commonly called Cinderella.” (Cendres means ‘ashes’ in French - so Cinderella is Cendrillon in French…)

The second card in the series reads “Cinderella gave the best advice in the world to her sisters, and even offered to do their hair, which they gladly accepted.” (We know her sisters were real b*tches to her, poor thing…)

Other stores followed the trend

Soon, other stores in Paris and around France (like Lille, Chartres, Angers) — and beyond — started using chromo-cartes to advertise their wares.

Here’s an adorable card from my favorite store, Galeries Lafayette. The caption reads ‘Vers l’Inconnu’ or ‘towards the unknown’:

Then there’s this one for the Bonnel & Cie., a company in Anvers, Belgium (Antwerp in English). I can’t find much about that store, but it is specifically marketed to women and children.

The quote at the bottom says: “I hope my jacket is making an impression.” Cute, non??

If I could, I would post an endless run of cute little illustrated cards, but Substack limits me on space. However, I have enough room to leave you this cutie, advertising the shops at the Musée Cluny, a medieval museum in the heart of Paris:

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Sources:
Interenchères Magazine
Full list of chromo-cartes - Bibliothèque numérique de Roubaix
Napoleon.org: French department stores during the Second Empire
BnF Gallica - chromo-cartes

Introducing Contributor, Jenn Bragg

Immerse yourself in all of Jenn’s articles on her Contributor page.

Looking back, it was one of the most formative things I’ve done.

Here are three reasons why I think Paris is the perfect destination for solo travel:

1. Safety First

Safety is a primary concern for most solo travellers, and Paris stands out as a city where you can feel secure. With its well-lit streets, extensive public transportation network, and a visible police presence, navigating Paris solo is generally safe. People are out eating and drinking at terraces at all hours until midnight, so there’s usually always someone nearby. Le Marais, Saint-Germain-des-Prés, and Montorgueil are some of the areas that are well-known for their friendly atmospheres and bustling activity, making them great areas for solo exploration.
Solo doesn’t mean isolated — and in these areas, it rarely feels that way.

You may want to avoid the Metro late at night, and steer clear of areas like Belleville or Barbès after dark. But as long as you stay relatively central, you’re unlikely to feel isolated — there’s almost always someone around. Take normal precautions, stay aware of your surroundings, and trust your instincts — just as you would in any major city.

2. Easy Navigation

Getting around Paris is a breeze, thanks to its efficient public transport system. When you’re travelling alone, it’s reassuring to know that you won’t need to rely on taxis or worry about how to navigate the city. The Metro is easy and convenient, with clear signage and frequent trains. In general, metro is usually a better alternative than taxis, as traffic is often slow and unpredictable in Paris.

I also enjoy taking the bus (except during rush hours) as you get to see the city in a different way during the ride. Even though it may take you a while to get to your destination.

Additionally, bike-sharing programs like Vélib’ offer a fun and eco-friendly way to see the city. I will get back to biking in Paris in an upcoming post. You can also read more at parisjetaime.com — the official page of the Paris Tourism Office.

However, my top recommendation is always to stroll around. Paris is incredibly walkable, with many of its iconic landmarks located within close proximity to each other. Moreover, the city reveals itself differently when you move by foot, taking detours and stops you hadn’t planned. Just because you feel like it.

3. Sitting alone is completely normal

Of everything I love about Paris, this ranks near the top — whatever the category: Sitting alone is never strange here. It’s culture. A cherished habit. You see people enjoy their own company wherever you are. In the park, at a concert or at a restaurant. Bring a book, or just enjoy looking at the people passing by. You will never feel strange — at least you will not appear strange in the eyes of people around you. It may take a bit of getting used to for your own part, but that’s normal.

By the way: When you’re at a terrace or in a bistro etc., do not talk on your phone unless you absolutely have to (in that case, make it quick and with a low voice). I would also recommend you to keep your phone in your bag as much as possible – be present in the moment. Even though times are changing, locals are still quite good at this. So, resist the instinct to scroll.

Trust me, it is good practice, too.

Go solo – or ahead

What I did for the first time back in 2012 was perfect as a soft start. I booked a trip with my best friend, but arrived a few days ahead of her itinerary. It gave me the best of both worlds — and boosted my solo-travel confidence.

What I realised then, and keep discovering, is how differently you experience a place when you’re there alone.

You use your senses more deliberately, taking it all in instead of focusing on conversations or plans. You’re not filtering the experience through someone else’s reactions — and that absence creates space. That space becomes awareness.

Try it. See how you smell more, hear more, notice more. It’s wonderful.

For the record, I love being in Paris with others, too. But whenever I go alone, I come back feeling more connected — not just to the city, but to myself.

I hope you try it. Promise me you won’t let hesitation hold you back.

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Introducing Contributor, Marie Gundersen:

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Today at a Glance: Your FREE weekly newsletter

Bonjour mes ami(e)s !

It’s wonderful to have you back here with me today, at the beginning of a new year! Bienvenue !

1. In this newsletter, you’ll find these wonderful fresh articles taking you to France beyond the cliché,

2. Don’t miss the PAID subscriber edition of le Bulletin in your inbox: “16.10.a - .“ It’s not too late to upgrade & read it←

   À bientôt !
   Warmly,
   Judy - 28.3.2026
   

1. MyFrenchLife™ Magazine: new articles

“There are many talented Contributors to MyFrenchLife Magazine and I thank all of you for sharing your experiences with us in such an engaging manner.
You take us right across France & deep into many worm-holes.
We delight in discovering
and learning more about France beyond the cliché”
Merci
Judy

Our list of valued Contributors →

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Introducing NEW Contributor: Laura L. Barkat (L.L.)

I am the founder and managing editor of Tweetspeak Poetry and publisher at T. S. Poetry Press. I’ve authored more than ten books, including the popular Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity & Writing. A former contributing writer for The Huffington Post, my poetry has appeared on NPR, in The Best American Poetry, and on the BBC.”

Laura’s Substack is ‘J’ai Fait du Thé’. Here’s how she describes it:

Wonder. Creativity. Tiny Adventures.

The name of this publication—J’ai Fait du Thé—means, quite simply, “I made tea.” What can you expect if you follow along?

I’m here to stir your sense of wonder, explore the creative life, and invite you to tiny adventures in tea and photography (with French on the side).

Reader, come along with me?

Let’s say “oui” to the possibilities…”

as always, L.L. “

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What you’ll find there includes:

Tea as ritual 🍵
Photography of the ordinary, made extraordinary 🍵
A Beginner’s Video Journey (NEW) 🍵
French through beauty 🍵
Word of the week (NEW!) 🍵

Welcome, Laura. It’s wonderful to have you join our fabulously talented team of Contributors.

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And now here is Laura’s first article in MyFrenchLife Zine.

a) Why I’m Learning French Through Tea
by LL Barkat

…or, what happens when you start living with a language instead of studying it...

Living with Language

There’s a special kind of beauty that slips into the day when you start to make your morning tea.

You open the tea tin, and the lightest fragrance enters your senses. The little leaves are nestled silently in each other’s arms. (Even inside a teabag, there they are, romancing each other.)

The light plays across the water as you pour it into the kettle.

You choose your teacup (I have regulars for each day of the week, and Wednesday is a wild card day.)

A few minutes for the steeping, while the aroma stirs your soul.

Then the pour. The glorious, precious pour.

Mmm.

It is in such beauty that French lured me again.” writes Laura (LL).

READ THE FULL STORY→

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b) Leftovers on Purpose: Stew, Law, and Anti-Gaspi France
by Keith Christiansen

How France Turned Leftovers Into Law”

In France, yesterday’s scraps are today’s dinner — and, increasingly, tomorrow’s legislation.”

TL;DR

France has long turned scraps into menu staples — bouillabaisse, cassoulet, pot-au-feu — and since 2016, supermarkets are banned from wasting food, to mixed effect. anti-gaspi apps like Too Good To Go, Nous anti-gaspi shops, and socialist events like Disco Soupe. La Chanson des Restos — France’s cheesy 80s We Are the World moment — still funds millions of meals.

Want in? Download the apps, check the ding-and-dent shelf at the supermarket, or start with the simple pot-au-feu recipe below…” writes Keith Christiansen.

READ THE FULL STORY→

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c) 20 Streets of Paris #3: Rue Réaumur
by Pierre Guernier

Third Episode—A journey of discovery through Parisian history, one street sign at a time - Let’s go!

Think you know Rue Réaumur? You know its iron-framed façades, its newspaper offices, and the rumble of the city at work. But do you know why a street humming with industry was named after an entomologist? What architectural revolution unfolded here around 1900, when Paris decided that even a working street deserved to be beautiful? Why this single thoroughfare once stitched together the world of finance and the quiet of a garden square? Pierre Guernier does — and this month, he’s lifting the steel-and-glass curtain to reveal the layers beneath. Fair warning: you’ll never glance at a blue street sign here the same way again.

READ THE FULL STORY→

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2. Merci mille fois

“Thank you for subscribing to ‘le Bulletin’, the newsletter of MyFrenchLife™ Magazine.”
Judy MacMahon

Bonjour mes ami(e)s,

What a treat this week’s free edition has been to put together.

A poet finding her way into French not through grammar books but through the ritual of a morning cup of tea, a deep dive into the surprisingly fascinating world of anti-gaspi legislation, and Pierre lifting the lid on a Paris street that has been hiding its secrets in plain sight for well over a century.

Welcome to Laura L. Barkat, who joins our contributor family this week for the first time. Her Substack, J’ai Fait du Thé, is exactly the kind of quiet, beautiful corner of the internet we all need more of, and I have a feeling her writing is going to find a very happy home here at MyFrenchLife™.

Merci mille fois pour la lecture, mes ami(e)s. If you’re enjoying the FREE edition, there is a lot more waiting for you in this week’s PAID le Bulletin newsletter. It’s not too late to upgrade and join us there.

Judy x
judy@myfrenchlife.org

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He cycled to City Hall on a Vélib’, bareheaded, without a motorcade or even an aide carrying a briefing note, blending into the flow of early evening commuters

On Sunday, 22 March 2026, Emmanuel Grégoire won the Paris mayoral race with just over 50% of the vote, succeeding fellow Socialist Anne Hidalgo as mayor of the French capital. He beat veteran conservative Rachida Dati, who finished with 41.5%, and hard-left candidate Sophia Chikirou, who came in at around 8%. In the end, it wasn’t even close.

Read more

Living with Language

There’s a special kind of beauty that slips into the day when you start to make your morning tea.

You open the tea tin, and the lightest fragrance enters your senses. The little leaves are nestled silently in each other’s arms. (Even inside a teabag, there they are, romancing each other.)

The light plays across the water as you pour it into the kettle.

You choose your teacup (I have regulars for each day of the week, and Wednesday is a wild card day.)

A few minutes for the steeping, while the aroma stirs your soul.

Then the pour. The glorious, precious pour.

Mmm.

It is in such beauty that French lured me again.

Not the French of textbooks or vocabulary apps. Not the French I tried to learn—and stopped trying to learn—many times before with other methods.

But a different kind of French. One that mesmerizes, invites your gaze, speaks of surprising play, like steam rising from a cup.

The Problem With How We’re Taught to Learn

For years, I approached language-learning in fits and starts—often by the book, never hinged to any theme. Some of it stuck. A lot of it didn’t. (The way when you’re in school, you study for the French test. And a week later, well. Where’d the French go?)

I learned the word for “airport” (l’aéroport) before I learned the word for “dream” (le rêve). I could say “Good morning,” but I couldn’t tell you how the light plays upon my tea. The language stayed largely external, a skill I was acquiring rather than a world I was entering.

So I kept stalling.

Until tea showed me another way.

What Changed: Finding My Entry Point

Last year, I started to make tea more intentionally—slowly, dreamily, letting the experience linger. It became something to look forward to. A moment of beauty. Meditative. Free. Stirring a sense of joy in me.

One day, I thought: “What if I learned French the way I make tea?” Slowly. With a heart full of dreams. Through beauty.

The idea sounds almost too simple.

But it has changed everything.

(Yes, now I know the word for dream (le rêve), the word for cup (la tasse), and the word for tea (le thé)!

Learning Through Ritual and Beauty

When I make tea, I sometimes think in French. Not perfectly. Not always grammatically correct. But I muse: Je fais du thé (I’m making tea).

Occasionally, I photograph the experience—steam rising, light catching on porcelain, the dark amber of black tea (le thé noir) in a white cup. Then I write about it, with French words scattered like rose petals along the way. Sometimes I even try making a tiny poem.

The French words I learn this way aren’t random. They’re mine. They belong to moments I’ve lived, feelings I’ve felt, images I’ve seen. They embrace my themes: tea, the creative life, and photography.

When I encounter la nuit (night), I don’t think of a dictionary definition. I think of my dreamy collection of night photographs: a Japanese tea set lit by my mother’s lamp, shadows pooling like dear memories of how she always created beauty.

That word lives in me. I will always remember it.

The Treasure Hunt Method

I’m working through the top 1000 most common French words—not in order, not with flashcards, not with a chart I check off with a pen.

Instead, I’m embedding the words in my life. Each word appears somewhere here at J’ai Fait du Thé in a post about tea, photography, or the creative life. Whenever I include a French word, I italicize it, so you can easily spot it. Over time, you can follow along, discovering these words as you engage in an ongoing treasure hunt.

It’s a low-key, inspiring, beautiful invitation to experience French.

When you meet words this way—through beauty and ritual and personal meaning—they stay. They become part of your inner landscape. They start appearing in your thoughts when you least expect them.

You don’t have to drill.

You only need to live with them.

Consider What You Love

What if we stopped learning randomly by rote?

What if we found our personal entry point—the thing we already love—and let it woo us into learning?

Do you love cooking? Maybe you could learn Italian by cooking your way through The Silver Spoon, musing in Italian as you slice and stir. (Then taking your after-dinner coffee and dessert and watching Lidia Poët.)

Do you love dancing? Maybe you could learn Korean by listening to Korean music while you dance, letting the language wash over you one song lyric at a time. And don’t miss the beautiful drama of Korean television and film. Here’s a favorite.

Do you love drawing? Maybe you could learn Spanish by drawing and labeling your sketches, building vocabulary through visual memory. Or read up on Picasso, then write tiny thoughts in Spanish about the genius of the artist’s drawing and painting.

What entry point would make language learning a joy for you?

An Invitation

I have an inkling that this way of learning French might actually make me fluent. Not because I’m aiming for that, but because I’m deeply involved.

French is becoming part of my life in a way it never did when I was simply “studying” it. It’s there in my morning tea ritual, my photography, my reflections. It’s making my life more beautiful, even exciting.

If you’re tired of rote study and you wish language learning were more than an item on your to-do list—if you’re curious about what it might feel like to learn through beauty—come to the tea table.

I’ll be here, setting a place for you. Photographing light. Offering musings on the creative life. Slowly building a vocabulary of wonder.

(translation: as always, L.L. :)

🌹 Ready to start your own treasure hunt to discover the French language, word by beautiful word?

Check out the Top 1000 French Words—to see which words I’ve already (déjà) added to the treasure chest. And subscribe so you don’t miss a drop of treasure…

Stirring your creativity—with tea, French & photography. Come sip with me…

All images: copyright LL Barkat

Introducing Contributor, L.L.Barkat:

Visit her Contributor Page — Explore more of Laura’s work

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Think you know Rue Réaumur? You know its iron-framed façades, its newspaper offices, and the rumble of the city at work. But do you know why a street humming with industry was named after an entomologist? What architectural revolution unfolded here around 1900, when Paris decided that even a working street deserved to be beautiful? Why this single thoroughfare once stitched together the world of finance and the quiet of a garden square? Pierre Guernier does — and this month, he’s lifting the steel-and-glass curtain to reveal the layers beneath. Fair warning: you’ll never glance at a blue street sign here the same way again.

Walk along the iron-framed buildings of this quietly magnificent street, and you may not notice the story written in steel and glass above you.

Yet the blue sign — Rue Réaumur — has watched printers, journalists, and city workers pass beneath it for over a century. Here, amid the hum of industry, Paris found its architectural poetry — fitting for a street that named a scientist but built a monument to modernity.

There is something wonderfully modern about Rue Réaumur, even though it was cut through the city in the nineteenth century. Named for René-Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur (1683–1757), a scientist famed for his studies of insects and for the temperature scale that once bore his name, the street quickly became a showcase of industrial Paris.

Around 1900, elegant office buildings rose here, their façades blending steel, glass, and Art Nouveau ornament. Printers, newspapers, and workshops filled the district, giving it the hum of a city embracing modernity. Yet the street still keeps the charm of Parisian architecture — wrought-iron balconies, grand entrances, and flashes of Belle Époque decoration.

Geographically, Rue Réaumur slices across the 2nd and 3rd arrondissements, linking the stock exchange at the Bourse with the quieter Square du Temple. To walk here is to step into the Paris of progress and invention, where science, industry, and beauty were never far apart.

How well do you know Rue Réaumur? Do you think about it differently now? Do you have anything to add?

Introducing Contributor, Pierre Guernier:

Visit his Contributor Page — Explore more of Pierre’s work

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TL;DR

France has long turned scraps into menu staples — bouillabaisse, cassoulet, pot-au-feu — and since 2016, supermarkets are banned from wasting food, to mixed effect. anti-gaspi apps like Too Good To Go, Nous anti-gaspi shops, and socialist events like Disco Soupe. La Chanson des Restos — France’s cheesy 80s We Are the World moment — still funds millions of meals. Want in? Download the apps, check the ding-and-dent shelf at the supermarket, or start with the simple pot-au-feu recipe below.

[ed note: Unless you’re here for a philosophical moment and a reflection on food waste, just skip to the recipe and the video.]

Philosophical moment:
Food waste isn’t just about saving money or feeling virtuous — it’s about respect for the process of production. Every carrot, bit of bread, every scrap in the pot means there is time, labor, and land behind it. To waste food is to ignore that. Stretching a meal, sharing leftovers, or rescuing a bag of bakery bread isn’t just thrift, it’s respect for the process.

Of course, it also saves money, but anyone who’s grown a vegetable could tell you how much goes into it.

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anti-gaspi (French, adj./noun)

(adj.) Short for anti-gaspillage (“anti-waste”); used to describe practices, products, or laws to reduce food waste.
Ex. Un rayon anti-gaspi – a supermarket section offering discounted items close to expiry or imperfect in appearance.

Thrift

From pot-au-feu simmered for days (and just left out all week before refrigeration) to the 2016 Loi Garot, which bans supermarkets from throwing away edible food, the French have a long habit of economizing food.

French cooking classics stretch the humble & imperfect into quality. Fishermen’s scraps became bouillabaisse in Marseille. Sunday roasts return as hachis Parmentier, a potato-and-meat bake named for France’s most famous potato evangelist.

In the southwest, beans, bones, and sausage scraps became cassoulet. Provençal ratatouille started life as a way to save overripe garden vegetables from the compost pile.

A dish by many other names

Pot-au-feu has cousins around the world: in Korea, seolleongtang is a pale beef bone soup, served mild and seasoned at the table, while sancocho stretches meat and root vegetables into a communal broth. Different flavors, same spirit — nothing wasted, everything shared. People have been surviving like that for centuries.

Kitchen habits to national law

The 2016 Loi Garot banned supermarkets from throwing away edible food, forcing them to donate instead. The rules later expanded to caterers and the food industry, intending to cut waste in half by 2025.

They didn’t make the deadline.

France is moving in the right direction; it has teeth on paper, but progress is slower than promised. Retail has seen some wins, but 50% will take more than supermarkets — it needs tougher enforcement and real shifts in households, producers, and processors too.

[ed note: “teeth on paper” is a really weird phrase. I’m keeping it.]

In the U.S., about 30–40% of the food supply is wasted every year — roughly 60 million tons, a number that hasn’t budged since 2010.

In France, food waste hit 10 million tons in 2016, costing €16 billion just to throw it out. There’s a reason composting bins are popping up all over the city I live in. After the Loi Garot banned supermarkets from tossing edible food, waste dropped 10% by 2020 — real, but slow.

Food waste is a bad deal on every front: it hurts people who go hungry, it wastes money, and it damages the planet. But the future we want isn’t going to arrive in one sweeping reform — it’s going to come from small, stubborn gains like this.

Retail effects

Carrefour and Intermarché now have anti-gaspi shelves for “imperfect” produce and short-dated yogurt, while a few shops sell nothing but surplus. Apps like Too Good To Go and Phenix make it normal to grab bakery bags or discounted groceries instead of letting them rot.

We use Too Good To Go most weeks — a sack from the bakery in town, loaves of bread we might not normally buy, but they’re great. It’s more bread than two people can handle, but you freeze it, repurpose it, and share it with neighbors.

Events and organizations like Disco Soupe turn ugly vegetables into free communal meals, and groups like Les Gars-pilleurs salvage discarded supermarket food.

This isn’t everywhere, but it is present. And some have a very socialist vibe, but food doesn’t get wasted, and more people eat.

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Recipe: A Pot-au-Feu for Warm Days

Pot-au-feu, “pot on the fire,” is called the grandmother of French stews.

People have made expensive ones, but at heart it’s meat, vegetables, and water left to work out their own flavors — a kind of French fridge clean-out.

Carrots and leeks are classic, but turnips bring an earthy sweetness, and turnip greens (or collards) add depth without weighing the broth down. I like to do it simply, and a slow cooker on low means it’s easy to keep the broth clear.

A Light Pot-au-Feu (late Summer Style)

Meat: ~2 lbs (1 kg) chuck roast, short ribs, or chicken thighs — cheap cuts work best.
Pot: Cover with ~10 cups (2.5 L) cold water; add salt, 1 bay leaf, 2–3 sprigs thyme. Bring to a boil, skim foam, then simmer 30 min.
Veg: Add 3 carrots, 2 leeks, 2 turnips, 2 potatoes, a handful of greens (large chunks). Or you can chuck in similar amounts of stray vegetables.
Cook: Simmer 60–90 min more, until meat is tender and veg sweet.
Serve: Clear broth in bowls or mugs; meat and veg plated. Serve mustard, pickles, or coarse salt at the table.

Next day: Reheat — richer and better

Slow-Cooker Version

Place meat, water, salt, bay leaf, thyme in cooker - low for 6–8 hours (or high 3–4)

Add vegetables halfway through

Finish the same way: serve broth light, season at the table, save leftovers

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Les chanson des Restos Enfoirés (1986)

La Chanson des Restos was written by Jean-Jacques Goldman for comedian Coluche’s food charity Les Restos du Cœur (“Restaurants of the Heart”). Like France’s own We Are the World, bringing together stars to sing for a cause — Yves Montand, Catherine Deneuve, Nathalie Baye, Michel Platini, Michel Drucker, Michel Sardou, Véronique Sanson, Eddy Mitchell, Julien Clerc, Renaud, Françoise Hardy, France Gall, Daniel Balavoine, Johnny Hallyday, Josiane Balasko, and many others. It was huge, all volunteers for the cause, and a video that looks like it was filmed for under €20.

The lyrics are pure 80s pop — “don’t waste food”, sung with big hair, over-earnest delivery, canned guitar riffs, and a chorus that sticks. The video splices together singers in the studio with montage shots of food processing: fish being filleted, chickens on rotisseries, cafeteria trays sliding past. It looks cheap, but weirdly unforgettable.

Unlike We Are the World, Les chansons des restos grew into an annual televised concert by Les Enfoirés, still funding millions of meals each year..

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What about you — do you stretch meals, grab anti-gaspi deals, or rescue leftovers? Drop a comment with your best trick (or your biggest food waste frustration).

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Introducing Contributor, Keith Christiansen

Immerse yourself in all of Keith’s articles→

Where is Haute-Savoie?

Haute-Savoie sits in the far eastern corner of France, pressed up against the Swiss border like it’s trying to escape from the rest of the country. It’s part of the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region, one of the post-2016 mega-region creations. I live in the Limousin, well, I did, because it was dissolved in the same geographic pogrom. Perhaps it really is trying to escape and reclaim its lost identity. Sorry, I digress.

The department shares its eastern border with Switzerland - specifically Geneva, which is so close to parts of Haute-Savoie that thousands of French residents commute there daily for work. To the south, you’ll find Savoie (the non-Haute version), and to the west, Ain. Italy is just a mountain range away to the southeast.

This is proper Alpine territory. When people picture the French Alps, they’re usually thinking of Haute-Savoie, although they may not know it.

Nearest Airports

Geneva Airport is the obvious choice, sitting just 40 kilometres from Annecy and even closer to some parts of the department. The slightly awkward bit is that it’s in Switzerland, which means you’ll be landing in one country to visit another. The airport has a French sector, though, so you can exit directly into France without technically entering Switzerland (bureaucracy finds a way).

Lyon-Saint-Exupéry Airport is about 150 kilometres from Annecy, roughly a two-hour drive. It’s a proper French airport with excellent connections to the UK and the rest of Europe.

Chambéry Airport, in neighbouring Savoie, is smaller but handles seasonal flights, particularly during ski season. It’s about 50 kilometres from Annecy.

For those coming from further afield, these airports connect well to the department’s main towns, and there are regular bus services that run to the ski resorts during winter.

Three Places of Interest

Lake Annecy

Lake Annecy is one of those places that manages to be genuinely stunning without needing any marketing hype. It’s often called the cleanest lake in Europe, which is the sort of claim that’s difficult to verify but seems plausible when you see the water.

The lake is about 14.6 kilometres long and sits at the foot of the mountains, surrounded by peaks that provide a very dramatic backdrop. The town of Annecy itself sits at the northern end. With its canals and old town, it’s often compared to Venice (every town with a canal gets compared to Venice, to be fair).

Can you go swimming in Lake Annecy? Yes, absolutely. The water quality is exceptional, and there are numerous beaches and swimming spots around the lake. The water temperature has been known to reach 24°C in summer, though it’s fed by mountain streams, so it’s never really warm. There are public beaches at Annecy-le-Vieux, Saint-Jorioz, and Talloires, among others. Wild swimming is popular too, though you’ll want to be sensible about it Wetsuit, float, etc.) - this is a lake, not a swimming pool.

The lake has a 40-kilometre cycle path running around it, which is mostly flat and suitable for families. It gets busy in summer (everyone has the same idea), but it’s well-maintained and has the postcard views that make you understand why people move to the Alps.

Chamonix-Mont-Blanc

Chamonix sits in a valley at the base of Mont Blanc, which at 4,808 metres is the highest mountain in the Alps. The town has been a mountaineering centre since the 18th century and hosted the first Winter Olympics in 1924.

These days, it’s a mix of serious alpinists, ski tourists, and people who’ve come to ride the cable car up the Aiguille du Midi (3,842 metres) for the views. The cable car journey is genuinely spectacular, if you’re OK with heights and don’t mind being packed into a cabin with other tourists.

The town itself has evolved to serve this constant flow of visitors. It has excellent shopping, numerous restaurants (indoor and outdoor), and accommodation ranging from hostels to five-star hotels. It’s not undiscovered or quiet, but it is the real deal if you’re interested in mountain sports.

In summer, the hiking is exceptional. In winter, the skiing is challenging - this isn’t a gentle resort for beginners.

Yvoire

Yvoire is a medieval village on the shores of Lake Geneva (Lac Léman) that has leaned heavily into its picturesque qualities. It’s classified as one of the Plus Beaux Villages de France, which is both a tourism designation and a commitment to maintaining traditional architecture.

The village dates back to the 14th century and still has its castle (privately owned, not open to visitors) and fortified walls. The streets are narrow and cobbled, the houses are covered in flowers during summer, and there’s a Garden of Five Senses that does what it says.

It’s undeniably pretty, and it knows it. The village gets very busy during peak season, and there’s a certain theme-park quality to the whole experience. But if you go early in the morning or outside summer, it’s a pleasant place to wander, and the lake views are lovely.

There are several restaurants, though prices reflect the tourist traffic. The boat connections to other Lake Geneva towns are good if you want to explore further.

Historical Information

Haute-Savoie’s history is more complicated than you might expect for what’s now a thoroughly French department. For centuries, it was part of the House of Savoy’s territories, which means it spent most of its existence being not-French.

The Savoy dynasty controlled a region that straddled the Alps, including parts of what’s now France, Italy, and Switzerland. Their capital was Chambéry (in Savoie) until 1563, when they moved it to Turin. This Alpine kingdom was a significant European power, playing the larger nations off against each other with varying degrees of success.

The region only became French in 1860, following a deal between Napoleon III and the Kingdom of Sardinia (which the House of Savoy ruled by then). The agreement was sealed by a plebiscite that voted overwhelmingly for annexation to France, though the circumstances were somewhat stage-managed, in that the deal was signed the day before the vote.

This relatively recent French identity explains some of the department’s character. There’s a distinct Alpine culture here that feels different from other parts of France - the architecture, the food, even the accent.

During World War II, Haute-Savoie was part of the Italian occupation zone until 1943, then came under German control. The mountainous terrain made it ideal for Resistance activities, and the Glières Plateau was the site of a significant maquis operation in 1944.

The post-war period brought winter tourism on an industrial scale. Chamonix had been attracting visitors since the 19th century, but the development of ski resorts across the department transformed the economy. The 1992 Winter Olympics in nearby Albertville (just over the border in Savoie) further boosted the region’s profile.

Geography

Haute-Savoie is defined by its mountains. The department sits in the northern French Alps, with terrain that ranges from lake shores at around 370 metres to the summit of Mont Blanc at 4,808 metres.

The landscape is dramatic - steep valleys, high peaks, glaciers, and Alpine meadows. The Arve and Giffre rivers cut through the mountains, creating the valleys where most settlements cluster. The Chablais massif dominates the northern part of the department, while the Mont Blanc massif is in the southeast.

Lake Annecy and the French shore of Lake Geneva (Lac Léman) provide the department with substantial bodies of water. Both lakes are glacial in origin, carved out during the ice ages and filled as the glaciers retreated.

The climate is Alpine, which means cold winters with heavy snowfall at altitude and mild summers. The valleys can be surprisingly warm in summer, while the high mountains remain cool. Weather can change quickly - mountain weather being what it is - and microclimates are common.

The department has several protected natural areas, including parts of the Vanoise National Park and various nature reserves. The biodiversity is significant, with chamois, ibex, marmots, and golden eagles among the more notable species.

Snow cover is reliable at altitude from December through April, which is why the ski industry thrives here. Lower elevations see less snow but still get proper winters. Summer brings hikers and cyclists to the mountains, taking advantage of the network of trails and mountain refuges.

The geography has shaped everything about Haute-Savoie - where people live, how they make their living, what they eat, and how they move around. The mountains aren’t just scenery here; they’re the fundamental fact of life.

The department’s position on the Swiss border adds another geographical quirk. Geneva’s urban sprawl extends into France, creating a cross-border metropolitan area. French residents work in Switzerland, Swiss residents shop in France (it’s cheaper), and the whole arrangement requires various bilateral agreements to function.

This is a department where geography is destiny, for better or worse. The mountains bring tourists and sports enthusiasts, but they also make transport difficult and limit where development can happen. The lakes provide recreation and beauty, but they’re also fragile ecosystems that require careful management.

It’s a landscape that rewards those who engage with it properly - whether that’s hiking, skiing, swimming in Lake Annecy, or simply sitting by the water with a glass of local wine. Just don’t expect it to be undiscovered or quiet during peak season. Beautiful places attract crowds, and Haute-Savoie is no exception.

Image credits: All images copyright the author Nick Garnett

Introducing Contributor, Nick Garnett:

Visit her Contributor Page — Explore more of Nick’s work

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There was a Jacobean antique eat-in table with the morning newspaper and a coffee cup still lingering from breakfast. Past the table, a pair of French doors opened out onto her small, charming garden. An energetic Irish terrier suddenly bounded around the corner, greeting me with an attempted tackle. It was a home that had been thoughtfully and beautifully designed, yet didn’t feel contrived. It left space for the daily doings of life. It was a home where the owners’ story was foregrounded, layered on a well-appointed background.

I adhere to the rule that there are no “shoulds” in decorating, BUT with a few caveats. How we design the spaces we live in should always start with your {the client’s} point of view. This approach will always create the best possible design—one that is interesting, beautiful, and authentically you.

I know for many people the idea of decorating a space can feel overwhelming, which is why they often hire a professional designer. And a large part of my job when starting any project is to learn about how my clients live or even how they aspire to live, and to help them dial-in on their aesthetic preferences.

A few years ago, I renovated a penthouse apartment for a couple who had just moved back to the US after living abroad for 20 years. They had most recently been living in Thailand and had come to love the Thai culture and Asian design. When we began discussing the design direction for the renovation, they said they wanted it to feel like a luxury Asian hotel, and they brought back with them a container full of art, sculptures, and Thai silk textiles. It was a fun creative exercise to find ways to integrate into the design the influence of Thai culture along with their personal art collection, while at the same time maintaining the tension around the fact that their penthouse apartment was in the US. We weren’t going for a Disney World version of Thailand in America. When the project was completed, the result was a beautiful home that visually communicated the couple’s history and passion for Thailand, but in a way that felt geographically appropriate for their American address. Furthermore, all the items they had collected while abroad wove together their unique story.

Another project I worked on was for a well-traveled family who were Francophiles, and the wife had studied Art History. They lived in Virginia but wanted to incorporate a French influence into the designs. I used a painting by one of the wife’s favorite artist, Modigliani, as a jumping off point for the colors and the feel of the overall design. Side note - art is a great way to refine what you are drawn to, and even if you can’t put words to it, you can find a work of art that makes your heart sing and use it as a guide to designing your own space.

What I love about these two projects above is that they could not be more different, and that is the beauty of designing with your point of view (POV). It’s YOUR story, and it’s one of my favorite aspects of my work - to explore the who behind my clients and help them to visually communicate their story in their home.

So where do you start to find your design POV? Think about all the places you have traveled, the hotels you have stayed in, the homes of friends you have spent time in, and the art you gravitate toward (whether it’s fine art, film, books, etc). Note what makes your heart sing, and I think you’ll start to find a thread that weaves through them all.

“Your home is the backdrop of your life, whether it is a palace or a one-room apartment.” “It should honestly be your own—an expression of your personality.” -Dorothy Draper

The other design rule I follow is that we are allowed for our point of view to evolve and change. Life is dynamic, and so are human beings. Our experiences throughout life influence us. I know my aesthetic preferences have certainly changed since I was in my 20s.

I worked as a design assistant for two very different designers for several years before hanging my own shingle. My very first job was an assistant to a designer who worked for a larger company that specialized in English and French country style. It was in the early 2000s in Washington, DC where the word conservative was applied to almost everything, regardless of a person’s liberal or conservative ideology. Perfectly coiffed news anchor-hair paired with pearls or a navy blazer was a dime-a-dozen on the streets of the Capitol. While the projects I worked on matched this traditionalism, the designer I worked with had exquisite taste, and I was introduced to beautiful brocades, silk lampas, antique English pine furniture, and Oushak and Aubusson rugs. This was also during the period when the American magazine, Domino, was popular among the young adult set. Conversely, the magazine had a more playful, youthful, colorful, and vintage vibe reminiscent of the early Kate Spade ads and the Jenna Lyon/J.Crew era.

When my husband and I bought our first home in Washington, DC, I designed it with a mash-up of these two aesthetics. It was a bit of European antiques meets vintage Palm Beach. I was only 26 and in the process of figuring out my own personal aesthetic, but I was clearly being influenced both by my work settings and the current trends of the day.

I left said design job when my husband and I decided to take a two-month sabbatical to Europe. My time in Europe would prove to be the next formative experience in my interior design education. We traveled throughout the UK, France, and Italy, and I fell head-over-heels in love with the history, the architecture, the antiques, and above all, the craftsmanship. I was attracted to the color and pattern play of British design, the insouciance and collected design approach of the French, and the use of rich textiles by the Italians.

Fast forward almost a decade, and I find myself living in Paris. And now, after another decade of having lived in France with several notable life experiences in between, my own home now is nothing like my first home on Capitol Hill. I’m now drawn to prioritizing sumptuous textures over pattern, I prefer an earthier palette, and I now have to consider two rambunctious toddlers who love jumping on the sofa.

Will my preferences change again? Maybe, probably, but I’m allowed. Maybe we will leave Paris and head to the countryside, where I know I would design a country house very different than my Parisian apartment. There is no “right way” of decorating - sure, there are some good rules of thumb when it comes to proportion and combining color and pattern, but within those rules, there is a lot of play to be had.

Below are a few of my favorite homes that leave a strong imprint of the homeowner, and you can tell they had a lot of fun creating their personal havens.

The last rule I follow is don’t follow the trends. The interiors that celebrate you, your penchant for (fill the blank), and a home that doesn’t need approval from others, is always going to be “in.”

Introducing Contributor, Kathryn Ivey:

Visit her Contributor Page — Explore more of Kathryn’s work

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Photo: author, Lace made from Silk

Photo: author, Lace made from Cotton

Photo: author, Lace made from Linen

Photo: author, Lace made from Wool

Before the 19th century, lace was created by hand, a laborious and very time-consuming process.

From the 1500s, during the blossoming of the Arts in the Renaissance period in Europe, ladies cultivated the craft of hand-making lace on a cushion with pins as posts and two threads as bobbins. They would cross or twist the yarns around the pins and knot, then remove and reset the pins to continue their design. Different styles of handmade lacework developed in different areas in Europe.

It could take one full day to create a yard of a narrow trim of lace. Lace was therefore an incredibly expensive textile - only accessible to the most elite and privileged in society - mainly royalty and the ecclesiastical hierarchy.

Then in the early 19th century, machine produced Leavers Lace was invented in Nottinghamshire, England. This broadened access to the upper middle classes in society.

Today, Lace is still a luxury, expensive, haute couture fabric, used by many designers in France and further abroad. Yet, it is also more accessible to much broader cross sections of society, thanks to the invention of Leavers Lace.

90% of the world’s woven lace is produced in the Hauts-de-France region, on the century-old looms conserved in Calais and Caudry. There are only six lace factories left in northern France. Four are in Calais and two in Caudry. Three-quarters of this production is destined for export.

The Dentelle de Calais® appellation is a registered and protected trademark, reserved exclusively for luxury lace made on Leavers looms by the master lacemakers of Calais and Caudry, using a unique method of knotting between the warp and weft yarns that dates back to the early 19th century.

But what is the connection between Leavers Lace, which originated in England in the nineteenth century and France? And more specifically, Calais?

To find out more, I took myself off to visit the Cité de la Dentelle et de la Mode museum in Calais at the northern tip of Hauts de France.

Photos: author, Street Art in the Museum car park

The museum is housed in the former 19th century U shaped four storey Boulart Lace factory, which housed 80 Leavers Lace machines at the start of the 20th century.

Photo: Cité de Dentelle Calais

The conversion and extension, completed in 2009, were designed by architects Alain Moatti and Henri Rivière.

Photos: Cité de Dentelle Calais

The building not only contains the museum, but very importantly houses the Centre de formation des apprentis des métiers de la dentelle (Apprenticeship Training Centre for Lace Trades), which trains future professionals in the sector

Leavers Lace and Fashion through time:

Today, in the twenty-first century, fashion plays on contrasts with lace. The lace woven on Leavers looms is a highly iconic product; heir to a unique know-how with part artisanal, part industrial roots; the image of a certain creativity à la française. An expression of luxury, it inspires designers and stylists in the sphere of Haute Couture as well as high-end prêt-a-porter.

Photos: author, ORCHIDÉE, Yiqing Yin, Collection Spring of Nuwa, Haute couture Autumn-Winter 2012-2013, Dress with topstitching, a three-dimensional effect and panel inserts, made of double duchess sole satin and sole crepe.

In the twenty-first century, this emblematic material lends itself to every trend and desire.

Photo: author, SHALIMA, Yiqing Yin, Collection Les Rives de Lunacy, Haute couture Autumn-Winter 2013-2014, Dress in beaded resin tulle and organza, embroidered with fragments of Sophie Hallette Leavers Lace and crystals.

The dress above was created for the short advertising film for Guerlain’s Shalimar perfume: The Legend of Shalimar, directed in 2013 by Bruno Aveillan and starring actress and model Natalia Vodianova. A process of deconstruction, fragmentation and repositioning of tiny beaded elements, gold sequin appliqués and lace fragments evokes the same components as the perfume: water, gold, and light.

Leavers Lace is just as likely to be found adorning androgynous, sporting, minimalist and casual designs as fluid, dreamlike and even futuristic ones. Lending itself to desires for transparency, in turn classic or iconoclastic, it has also become a medium for visual research and for fashion that is in constant flux of reinvention.

Photo: author, Iris VAN HERPEN, Jumpsuit 2013, Leather, Leavers Lace and metallic eyelets. You will need to look closely to identify the lace.

Photo: author, Sonia RYKIEL, Robe T-shirt, 2007, Velours de sole, Leavers Lace

Historically, lace production for outer garments was primarily centred in Caudry, while Calais focused on intimate lingerie. But both production centres are now seeking to diversify what they offer, and so the distinction between them is becoming less clear-cut.

Photo: author, 19th-century formally structured lingerie scaffolding with Leavers lace

Photo: author, late 19th-century bloomers with Leavers lace.

Photo: author, Advertisement for Christian Dior, mentioning Calais Lace, 1967, Revue Votre beauté

Photo: author, Advertisement for Chantelle lingerie with Peeters & Perrin lace, circa 1971

Photo: author, Wonderbra publicity, Revue Dessous, Mode Internationale, 1996

Photo: author, JOLIDON, dentelle Desseilles-Laces, Calais, Body, 2010, Leavers Lace, Swarovski crystals

It is fascinating to see how Lingerie has evolved since the S-shaped ideal female silhouette of the early 1900s was perceived as consisting of the bust thrust forward (creating a plunging bosom) and an arched lower back pushing the hips and derrière backwards, with the tiniest of waists courtesy of a corset. Just how restricting and uncomfortable this must have been!

Photo: author, Corset de style, Maison de Vertus Soeurs, Revue Les Modes,1902

It is equally interesting to see how outerwear fashion trends have developed over time.

In the early 19th century, machine-made cotton tulle was only a tenth of the price of fine linen fabrics. Tulle and Lace as new machine-made textiles, won over more and more customers. Lace was used as a trim in the production of the trousseau, household linen, party and ceremonial dress, and the net curtain and lace curtain market was booming.

Photo: author

Fashion consolidated these trends: the dream was white, transparency and lightness, with priority given to embroidered or lacy tulle. Under the Second Empire, lengths of tulle were used in abundance for wardrobes and furnishings.

The first department stores were all the rage. Magazines and mail-order catalogues spread the fashion for lace.

Parisian department store catalogues: PRINTEMPS - Winter 1903 - Girl’s counter; LOUVRE - January 1901 - Catalogue of linen; PRINTEMPS - 1879-80 Toys, gifts Documentation de la CIDM

Early 20th-century fashion, with its curved lines, drew inspiration from nature. The arrival of a fluid, long-limbed silhouette preceded the rationalisation and simplification of clothing during the First World War. The look described as “androgynous” during the 1920s, a total break with the past, defined a flat silhouette and revealed the legs.

Photo: author, Evening dress, around 1925, Leavers lace made of coppery gold lamé threads, Silk satin belt, metal buckle featuring a stylised scarab beetle and costume stones.

The longer dresses with irregular, floating panels at the end of the decade would become even longer during the 1930s, closely moulding the bust and hips, with the waist restored to its natural place.

A functional fashion of mainly military inspiration, formed of recycling and reusing, characterised the style of clothing during the Second World War.

As a reaction to the dark years of the Occupation, the post-war silhouette highlighted the feminine attributes: fuller bust and hips, slender waist, fuller, longer skirts.

Photo: author, Maison NINA RICCI, Dress and jacket ensemble, 1957, Leavers Lace, silk taffeta, tulle

The 1960 and 1970 decades saw the rise of the protest movements led by young feminists and oppressed minorities.

Photo: author, Dress, 1960, Leavers lace, embroidered with rhinestones, pearls, sequins and ribbons, cotton lining

From the 1960s to the 1990s, changes in clothing trends were accelerated by the rise of ready-to-wear, its distribution in shops and the emergence of new designers. Style agencies were now setting the trends, which were popularised by the media. The fortunes of the lace industry rose and fell with the slightest whims of the fashion world.

The designers who worked for a broader modern public at more reasonable prices were then behind some genuine clothing innovations. People choose their clothes to express their social or political positions, and no longer according to the criteria of a dominant fashion.

During the 1980s, fashion began to receive enormous media coverage. The couturiers drew their inspiration from very diverse sources to offer multiple styles.

Photo: author, Christian LACROIX, 1987 (first couture collection), Woollen cloth, Leavers lace, Silk satin.

Photo: author, Article Chanel, l’irrésistible éclat du noir, Revue Harper’s Bazaar France,1988

Photo: author, Chantal THOMASS, Dress, Autumn-Winter 1988-1989, Leavers Lace, Tulle, weaving

Photo: Madonna, Like a Virgin, 1984. Costume designed by Moroccan-born Maripol, who studied at the École des Beaux-Arts, Nantes, France, before moving to New York in 1976, aged 19.

As a reaction to so much frivolity and the popularity of lingerie as outerwear in the 1980s, the following decade would be characterised by a certain restraint and discretion, the keyword being minimalism.

Photo: author, CHANEL, Trouser suit,1988, Wool crepe, Leavers loom lace, muslin, taffeta and sole satin, gold-tone metal.

The lace, the dresses, the lingerie were gloriously decadent. Yet the scientist in me wanted to understand how Leavers Lace was created. So come and join me as I delve into the origins, history and engineering of Leavers Lace creation.

John Heathcote:

Photo: Heathcoat’s 2nd patent lace machine 1809, nottinghamcastle.org.uk

Machine-produced lace was first created in Nottinghamshire, England. John Heathcote’s original 1809 Old Loughborough bobbin net machine was the first purpose-built commercial Lace machine. Heathcote replaced the shuttle (an elongated shape) of a lace loom with the bobbin (a cylindrical shape around which the thread unwinds at a regular rate).

Heathcote’s machine relied on two tiers of bobbins, which moved positions with each forward and backwards motion of the machine. This produced a base net tulle with no inlaid embroidered patterns. The tulle base was then embroidered by hand to produce a lace fabric.

John Levers:

Painting: Nottingham City Museums & Galleries

John Levers was born in 1786 in Sutton in Ashfield, Nottinghamshire, England. At that time, Sutton was the centre of hosiery production, with an emerging manufacture of machine net lace tulle. John Levers was a trained mechanic & engineer. The Levers’ family were all involved in the lace-making industry. He had three siblings: James, a lace maker and lace mechanic; Mary, a lace runner; and Thomas, a lace machine maker.

In 1813, John Levers designed the single-tiered bobbin net Leavers Lace machine. His machine was an adaptation of and improvement on John Heathcote’s original lace-making machine invention.

Photo: a rare wooden-framed Leavers machine made by John Levers in Nottingham, Nottingham City Museums and Galleries

The Leavers machine with a single layer of thin bobbins is capable of producing single-tiered patterned net lace. The machine can create intricate lace patterns, with or without a net background, similar to handmade lace.

Due to prohibitive English tax laws, many English lace manufacturers moved to France at this time. In 1821, together with his siblings, mother, two sister-in-laws and his sister’s future husband, John Levers emigrated to Grand-Couronne, near Rouen, on the banks of the river Seine in Normandy. There, John Levers began working in a lace workshop converted into a factory. To help native French speakers pronounce the family surname correctly, the spelling was changed from Levers to Leavers.

In 1833, John Levers successfully obtained a patent for his Lace frame - the Leavers machine.

Significantly, John Lever’s machine allowed for the later addition of Jacquard cards that directly patterned the lace, rather than creating a hexagonal net tulle which had to be subsequently embroidered by hand. Such a feat could never have been achieved on Heathcoat’s original Lace machine, as it relied on two tiers of bobbins.

John Levers died in 1848 in Grand-Couronne, Normandy.

Leavers Lace and Calais:

In the early 19th century, England led the world in mechanical textile manufacture. This manufacturing was protected by making it illegal to export the Lace machines out of the country.

France placed high tariffs on English lace and cotton to protect its own textile industry, making imported English lace very expensive.

In 1816, Robert Webster, assisted by Samuel Clark, smuggled a Lace machine into Calais. The machine was dismantled, packaged and shipped on various boats to Calais. The parts were then reassembled in a shop on Quai du Commerce in the village of Saint-Pierre, outside the walls of Calais itself.

Trade grew rapidly, and soon there were eleven Lace machines in Calais. Other English lace manufacturers and workers followed.

Two significant developments were the advent of steam powered Leaver machines and the Jacquard cards.

Until the middle of the 1830s, the looms were driven by hand, with the turners using a special handle. The length of the machines and, therefore, the width of the pieces of fabric produced were limited by the strength of the men. In Devon, England, hydraulic energy was used as the driving force, but this was impossible in Calais due to the lack of a major waterway

The use of steam-powered machines arrived late in Calais in 1840, when the first industrial boiler room was installed in the Webster & Pearson factory.

There were several successive waves of construction in Saint-Pierre-Calais: from 1840 to 1844, from 1850 to 1856, between 1868 and 1873, and finally the last and the biggest phase from 1878 to 1883, taking the number of Leavers Lace factories to over 50.

Lace makers in a workshop, published as a postcard in the early 20th century, Grand Bazar Lafayette editions, Cité dentelle mode collection© CIDM

Glossary of Job Roles in a Leavers Lace factory:

The professional worker descriptions below were derived from the Births, Marriages and Deaths records from the Calais and Calais Saint Pierre archives. They tell a fascinating story of the lives of workers in Calais at this time in the 19th century:

French term m/f: English description

brodeuse: embroiderer

couturière: dressmaker

dentellier/dentellière: lacemaker - owner of machines and manager of the processes from making, packaging to selling the finished lace product.

dévideuse (f): winder, usually a female who winds thread from small wooden reels onto a larger reel for use by the bobbin winder.

dévideur (m): winder, usually a male who selects the correct thread yarns and first winds threads onto a large warp mill and then onto the warp drum

dessinateur: designer who creates a drawing of the lace fabric design

esquisseur: draftman modifies the design drawing to create a machine useable sketch

fabricant de rouleaux: wooden reel or spool maker

fabricant de tulle: manufacturer - factory and machine owner

faiseur de tulle: maker of tulle

fileur/fileuse: spinner

laçeur: jacquard card lacer

mécanicien: machine mechanic assists the twist hand to ensure smooth machine operation

ouvrier en tulle: lace worker (generic term for a worker in the lace making industry)

perçeur (de cartons): piercer of the jacquard cards - the card puncher or cutter

plieur/plieuse de tulle: lace presser

pointeur: pattern perforator - modifies sketch design for production and prepares it for the card piercer by piercing the design sheet and adding numbers to indicate the location and colour of each thread

presseur (de bobines): bobbin presser

raccommodeuse: mender - makes good any faults in the fabric

rémonteur/armonteur: bobbin fitter - fits the filled bobbins. After checking each bobbin/carriage assembly, he fits the assemblies to the machine and feeds threads through the machine

survideur: jacker-off - removes used bobbins and carriages from the machine and then the remaining thread from the brass bobbins before handing them on to the bobbin winder. Also, winds thread onto a series of small wooden reels from hanks of spun material for use by the dévideuse and onto a very large wooden-framed drum for use by the wapeur

tulliste: twisthand - general operation of the machine and oversight of the other workers and feeds the threads into the machine

wapeur/wappeur: winds cotton threads onto long metal rollers (warp beams) fitted across the width of the machine. These threads become the warp threads of the fabric

wheeleur/wheeleuse: bobbin winder - winds thread onto bobbins in a series and racks them ready for the bobbin presser. The thread in the bobbin is then used to twist around the warp and beam (weft) threads of the fabric

visiteuse: material checker who marks faults for the menders

The Leaver Machine Process:

The process is really complex, involving up to 20 stages. At the end of the first day, I visited the museum, my head hurt, and I felt confused. I didn’t really fully understand the machine process. And usually, I’m reasonably competent at understanding processes with my scientific background. Perhaps it’s an ageing thing; maybe it’s a second language thing - I’m still not sure, but I knew I was confused. And that made me feel uncomfortable.

So I went back to the museum again the next day. I recorded display video clips in French. I photographed detailed display boards. And I made good use of Google Translate when my imperfect, rudimentary French let me down (frequently). Subsequently, I did research online. I feel I now have a better understanding of the complex processes involved in the Leavers Lace machine. But it sure isn’t perfect. However, I will do my best to share what I understand with you.

The Leavers Lace process comprises three stages:

• Stage 1 Preparation

• Stage 2 Leavers Machine operation

• Stage 3 Finishing

Stage 1 Preparation:

This can be subdivided into two elements:

Stage 1a: Design and Pattern Control with the Jacquard Cards

Stage 1b: Yarn Preparation involving the Bobbins, Drums and Beams

Stage 1a: Design and Pattern Control with the Jacquard Cards:

• Designing:

  The Dessinateur creates a new lace design using a pencil and paper, which is limited by the capabilities of the Leavers Lace machine.

Photo: author

• Drafting:

  The esquisseur uses a pantograph to convert an enlarged form of the artistic design onto paper. They modify the design using their artistic ability and knowledge of the thousands of warp and beam threads. This is a highly skilled role, and it can take a decade to develop competency.

Photo: author

• The esquisseur now numbers and colours the sketch to record the movements of every machine part and every yarn thread.

• Reading Off:

  The esquisseur’s sketch is “read-off” onto a sheet of squared paper. A simplified design is drawn on the paper. Then the pointeur (pattern perforator) perforates and numbers the squared paper, which specifies every thread location and colour. The numbers are tabulated to aid the perçeur.

Photo: author

• Punching:

  The perçeur (card puncher), following the numbered tables, uses a guillotine machine to perforate holes in cardboard cards, according to the scale, sized to fit the Jacquard cylinder.

Photo: author, Piano for perforating jacquard cards

• On the card-punching machine, he attaches his scale and a Jacquard control card and follows the reading from right to left. The holes are punched with both hands.

  The hole pattern dictates the movement of the Jacquard droppers and blades, which thereby control the movement of every bobbin as they twist around the warp threads.

Photo: author

• Correcting:

  The punched cards are checked, and any errors corrected by plugging with glue and punched again with a hand spike, before the Jacquard cards are given to the lacer.

• Lacing:

  The laçeur (lacer) first divides the punched Jacquard cards into two packs - even and odd numbered cards. Then he ties each pack of Jacquard cards together, using an upholstery needle to lace up the bundle so it holds firm.

  The odd-numbered pack will go to one cylinder, the even-numbered pack to the second cylinder.

Stage 1b: Yarn Preparation involving the Bobbins, Drums and Beams:

At the same time that the Leavers lace design and Jacquard punched cards are being constructed, the bobbins, drums and beams that will be involved in producing lace from the yarns are being prepared.

Spool winding involves selecting the correct threads and yarns and then winding the threads onto the spools and bobbins. There is a succession of specific techniques and actions. Some workers condition the threads and supply the Leavers machine, while others carry out the final mechanical adjustments.

The jacker off removes the thread from the bobbins, then gives them to the bobbin winder, who fills them in series before handing them to the bobbin presser. The latter makes sure they are all the same thickness, then takes them to the bobbin fitter, who puts them in the carriages. The beam builder puts each of the 15,000 roller and beam threads in the Leavers machine while the tullist places the set of 5,000 bobbins inside the loom.

• Wheelage:

  The wheeleur/wheeleuse or bobbin winder fills the bobbins with threads so that they are ready for the bobbin net machine. Each bobbin is a metallic disc containing holes in a concentric circular pattern.

Photo: author, Bobbins and Carriages

• Each bobbin sits in a carriage. The wheeler opens the stack of bobbins with their nail and inserts the thread. The wheeler may have 100 threads to insert, producing a winding of 100 bobbins.

  The bobbin winder winds one hundred metres of thread onto the bobbins. They work on a table with their nail (metal shaft) and scissors. They hold the drum firm with their leg, take the bundle of bobbins that they put on the drive shaft, position each thread in the groove of the bobbins and control the filling with a serrated wheel.

  For one set of the machine, there are 47 windings of 100 bobbins. So that makes 4,700 for a single set. All the threads are aligned one after the other - you can’t have them overlapping. Precision is necessary here to avoid errors in the produced Leavers Lace.

• Pressing and Heating

  Once the bobbin winder has wound a set of bobbins, the presseur de bobines (the bobbin presser) will flatten the threaded bobbins in a special machine, using a 200 - 250 kg weight. The bobbins are pressed into a thin uniform thickness. Then the presser heats the bobbins in a furnace oven at 100 degrees Celsius for 15 to 30 minutes.

Photo: author

• Once heated, the presser leaves the threaded bobbins to cool.

  Next, the prepared threaded filled bobbins in their carriages are placed in the Leaver machine, one carriage to each space in the comb bar. The comb bars run the entire length of the machine and face each other, one at the front and the other at the back of the threads. The comb bars will ensure that the bobbins move in a uniform motion.

Photo: author, assembled bobbins in their carriages, carefully positioned in the Comb

• Remontage:

  Throughout the day’s production, as the carriages move back and forth in the Leavers machine, the bobbins are gradually emptied of thread.

Photo: author

• The bobbins are continually loaded and refitted in their carriages. The bobbin is threaded by inserting it in its carriage; the spring on the bobbin is set, and the end is threaded using the hook on the bobbin block.

  Once the bobbin is threaded with another 100 m of thread, it goes back to the frame. The frame is kept supplied with carriages and inserted bobbins. On a frame that produces four racks of lace per hour, it takes approximately 15 hours to empty a full set of bobbins, but it depends on the complexity of the lace design.

• Wappage:

Photo: author

• It’s the wapeur/wappeur’s (the beamer's) job to fill the warp beams by winding the warp threads from a creel of spools or cones onto long metal rollers (the warp beams) fitted across the width of the machine.

Photo: author

• These threads become the vertical warp threads of the fabric, which are fed into the Leavers machine.

  The number of beams depends on the lace pattern and the width chosen by the esquisseur (draughtsperson).

  The number of threads corresponds to the frame’s production width and how fine the net tulle needs to be.

  The threads go through the tension unit. Then bars are added to even out the tension. This is necessary to avoid defects and maintain quality.

Photo: author, Warp bars wound with thread under tension, ready for the Leavers Machine.

• Montage des Fils:

  The Chainer positions the warp beams, consisting of wound threads under tension on long metal rollers, underneath the Leavers Machine frame.

Photo: author

• When a design changes, a beam has to be added, putting it in the rack at the back of the frame.

  The threads are positioned by passing them up by hand and firstly threading them through a stainless steel horizontal plate with guide holes (called a sley) and then to another set of holes in an individual bar, and are finally tied off at the top roller.

Photo: author

Stage 2 Leavers Machine operation

Four different types of yarn threads with different functions are used in Leavers Lace production:

1. Warp Threads - which work vertically.

2. Beam (Weft) Threads - which are always horizontal.

3. Gimp threads - which form the raised motif on top of the background transparent net tulle.

4. Liner threads - which separate the net from the motif. They outline the motifs.

The threads are pulled up by the motion of the machine. The threads twist together at the face of work. When the threads cross, the thread is caught by the other threads.

The vertical Warp threads and the horizontal Weft threads twisting together will form the background transparent net tulle.

The vertical warp threads are held parallel to each other and under tension. There are two sets of warp threads, right twist and left twist - one used for stability and the other used for twisting. An S-twist thread is on the front warp (right warp) and a Z- twist on the back warp (left warp, reverse warp). The reverse warp threads lock the front warp threads against the bobbin threads.

The bobbin and the carriage together act as the horizontal weft thread and are the cornerstone of the Leavers Machine.

The bobbins always follow the same oscillating path in the combs. The warp threads pass in front of or behind the bobbin threads, to the right or to the left according to the action of the Jacquard on the steel bars through which they are threaded.

Diagram: University of Arizona

FIG. I From a rod a weight (A) representing the carriage and bobbin is suspended by a thread representing the bobbin thread. At equal distances on each side of this thread are two other threads (B&C) representing the warp threads.

If the weight “A” swings from and toward the observer and warp threads B & C remain stationary there will be no result.

FIG. II Warp Threads B & C are drawn to opposite sides while the bobbin thread A is behind them away from the observer.

FIG. III The bobbin thread A moves forward through the crossed warp threads B and C.

FIG. IV Warp threads B & C resume their original positions and a twisting action results.

FIG. V If the bobbin thread attached to weight “A” is under tension and the warp threads are loose (I.e. not under tension), then the warp threads B and C will twist around the bobbin threads.

FIG. VI If the warp threads B & C are under tension and the bobbin thread is loose, then the bobbin thread will twist around the warp threads.

This produces the delicate Leavers Lace hexagonal net tulle.

Photo: author

Photo: author, hexagonal shape of the fine Leavers Lace net tulle background, with a raised bee motif

I was beginning to form a clearer understanding of how the different threads were twisted and woven together to form the net tulle and the motifs.

But I was still confused by the machinery. How did it actually work?

Diagram: University of Arizona

The diagram above, courtesy of the University of Arizona, really helped me to understand the mechanism in this complex process.

The bobbins (D) swing like pendulums, through the warp threads, always in the same path, being guided by the slots of the combs (L).

The steel bars (E), through which the warp ends are threaded, are controlled by the Jacquard mechanism and may move either to the right or to the left. The direction and distance the steel bars move is predetermined by the Jacquard punch pattern.

After the bobbin carriages (D), move from front to back, the steel bars move - some to the right, others to the left.

The back point bar (Hb) moves up and compresses the twists of the previous motion, to form another bit of lace fabric.

The Porcupine roll (K) turns enough to make room for this newly formed lace. The front point bar (Hf) moves down into position for the next motion.

Are you still with me? It took me a very long time to understand.

Here’s a video clip from my visit to the Cité de la Dentelle museum in Calais. Here you will find one of the experienced, highly skilled artisan master lacemakers explaining (in French) how the machine works. Even if your French is rudimentary like mine or you don’t understand French at all, the visuals and the sounds illustrate the mighty process involved in Leavers Lace creation.

Video: author, 3 minutes

The resultant delicate Leavers lace produced is described as “lace in the brown”.

Stage 3 Finishing:

Photo: author, The mender repairs any snags found on the lace. Defects are repaired with a needle for dresses or on a sewing machine for braids. Generally, it is a question of errors in the adjustment of punch-cards, thread passage or broken threads.

Due to the intensive mechanisation of the Leavers machine process, the lace at this stage may be soiled and needs to be:

• mended

• washed

• dyed

• dressed

• embroidered

• scalloped

• sampled for quality control

before the finished Leavers lace is wrapped and packed, ready to be shipped off to haute couture designers in Paris, Milan, New York, London and further afield.

Reflections:

What a history. What a complex technology. The genius of John Levers’ engineering and design. What sustainability - the 100 - 150 year old Leavers machines are still working today. What a beautiful luxury textile.

Photo: author, BALENCIAGA (directeur artistique : Nicolas Ghesquière), Evening dress, 2011-2012, Leavers Lace (Sophie Hallette, Caudry), Embroidered Tulle (Bischoff), Silk mousseline.

And remember, 90% of the world’s woven lace is produced in just six factories in Calais and Caudry in Northern France, on centuries-old Leavers Lace looms, by less than 4000 highly trained and skilled artisan master lacemakers.

This is a French artisan industry, culture and history that deserves to be supported, preserved and protected.

Wandering through the museum, observing the displays of Leavers Lace and fashion through time was pleasurable, decadent and inspiring…sigh, a girl can dream, right?

YouTube, Madonna, Like a Virgin, 1984.

This “girl”, alas, will forever be lost in the 1980s music of that time. Lace tops (probably made from synthetic fibres as opposed to silk, linen, cotton or wool due to a student budget), messy curled (permed) hair tied loosely up and back with more lace, dangly diamanté earrings, maybe a splash of psychedelic colour, (more lace) black stockings, big buckled belt on the hips.

Fun times.

à bientôt
Caroline

Introducing Contributor, Caroline McCormick-Clarke

Immerse yourself in all of Caroline’s articles on her Contributor page.

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She’s been there so long it’s almost hard to imagine Paris without her. Anne Hidalgo, the first woman to lead the French Capital, a Spanish immigrant turned Parisian institution, mayor since 2014, is leaving. This coming weekend, Parisians vote for her replacement. And it feels, in a very particular Parisian way, like the end of something.

Whether you loved her or found her unbearable, the Paris you walk around in right now is very much her Paris. The bike lanes you either bless or curse. The Seine, you can actually swim in again. The trees along streets that used to be car parks. The school canteens serve organic produce. The Olympic velodrome. The Champs-Élysées that smells, improbably, of lavender in summer.

This is the story of what she actually did, who she was, and what Hidalgo Paris means for the city’s future — and for those of us who love it.

Who Is Anne Hidalgo, Really?

Anne Hidalgo was born in San Fernando, Spain, in 1959, and arrived in France at the age of two. Her father was a welder; her mother a seamstress. She studied labour law, became a labour inspector, joined the Socialist Party, and worked her way up through Paris city politics with the careful patience of someone who knows the odds aren’t quite in her favour.

In 2001, she became Bertrand Delanoë’s deputy mayor — a position she held for thirteen years, learning the machinery of the city intimately. When Delanoë stepped aside in 2014, she ran and won, making history as Paris’s first female mayor. She won again in 2020. Twelve years. More than three thousand days of running a city of two million people, watched by the entire world.

She is, by most accounts, serious, stubborn, ideologically committed, and not especially interested in being liked. That last quality may explain a great deal.

What Hidalgo Actually Built

The numbers, when you line them up, are genuinely staggering. Under Hidalgo’s tenure:

• Paris went from around 200km of bike lanes to more than 1,400km. Fine particle pollution fell by around 55%.

• The Périphérique, the ring road that’s been a symbol of Paris’s car dependency since the 1970s, had its speed limit cut.

• Vast swathes of the Seine’s banks, once roaring with traffic, became pedestrian promenades.

• She launched the Paris en Commun programme, a vision of the “15-minute city” — the idea that everything you need for daily life should be reachable on foot or by bike within fifteen minutes. It became an international reference point for urban planning. Cities from Melbourne to Barcelona cite it. Urban theorists write papers about it.

• She also planted more than 170,000 trees, created hundreds of urban “cool islands”, shaded, green spaces designed for increasingly brutal summers, and

• oversaw a school food revolution, shifting Paris’s 100,000+ daily school meals toward local, organic, and sustainable sourcing.

• And then there’s the Seine. Hidalgo swam in it during the Paris Olympics opening week to prove it was clean. She had promised this for years. People laughed. Then she got in the water.

The Weight of the City’s Debt — and the Car Wars

None of this came free, financially or politically.

Paris’s debt rose sharply during her tenure — from around €4 billion to somewhere in the region of €10 billion, depending on how you count. Her critics, and there were many, called it reckless. Defenders pointed to infrastructure investment, COVID spending, and the Olympic legacy. The argument continues.

The car wars were ferocious. Removing parking spaces and traffic lanes in a city where many residents, particularly those in the outer arrondissements, still rely heavily on cars felt to some like ideological warfare dressed up as environmentalism. Petitions circulated. There were protests. Drivers were furious. The local tabloid press was not kind.

Parisians, it turns out, want a greener, quieter, more human city — and they also want to be able to park outside their front door. This tension was Hidalgo’s daily reality for twelve years.

The Presidential Disaster

In 2022, she ran for President of France. It did not go well. She received approximately 1.75% of the vote — a result so strikingly low that it became the defining image of her political overreach in much of the media. Commentators shook their heads. Her opponents gleefully filed it away.

What got less attention was the context: she ran in a field of twelve candidates, the left was catastrophically fragmented, and the race was effectively already over before the first round. Still. 1.75% is hard to reframe.

She returned to the Hôtel de Ville, said relatively little about it publicly, and got back to work. Which is either admirable stoicism or spectacular denial, depending on your perspective.

What Comes Next: The Candidates

The race to replace her is, to put it mildly, lively. The frontrunners represent almost comically divergent visions of Paris:

Emmanuel Grégoire — Hidalgo’s own deputy mayor and anointed successor — is running on continuity. He’s competent, steady, deeply knowledgeable about the city, and about as exciting as a well-organised filing cabinet. His supporters see this as a feature.

Rachida Dati — former Justice Minister under Sarkozy, current Culture Minister, and a politician of genuine charisma and considerable personal ambition — is running for the right. She has been mayor of the 7th arrondissement since 2008. She is TikTok-savvy, she is controversial, and she very much wants this job. A Dati win would end more than twenty years of left-wing control of Paris and represent a genuine political rupture.

There are also candidates from the far left and the Macronist centre, which adds complexity to a first round that nobody is treating as a foregone conclusion.

The election uses a two-round system at the arrondissement level, with seats in the Conseil de Paris ultimately determining who becomes mayor. It is, to put it gently, not simple. But it is genuinely open.

Her Paris, Your Paris

Here is what I find myself thinking about when I walk along the Seine banks where the cars used to be: I didn’t think I wanted this, and then it happened, and now I can’t imagine it being any other way.

That’s the thing about transformation. It requires someone willing to absorb enormous amounts of hostility on behalf of a future that isn’t quite visible yet. It requires a particular kind of stubbornness, the stubbornness of a labour inspector’s daughter who got to Paris at age two and decided, somewhere along the way, that this city could be better than it was.

You might disagree with her methods. You might resent the bike lanes or mourn the parking, or think the debt was unforgivable or find her presidential ambition somewhere between delusional and insulting. These are all legitimate positions.

But the Paris that exists in 2026 — greener, cleaner, more cyclable, more swimmable, more human in scale than at any point in living memory — is her Paris. She built it while people shouted at her. And she leaves it behind.

That’s not nothing. In fact, it might be everything.

À bientôt

Judy

This article forms part of the French Culture Deep-Dive Collection of MyFrenchLife.org

Sources and Further Reading:

• Le Monde (French, subscription required) — “Anne Hidalgo : ‘Je ne me présenterai pas à un troisième mandat de maire de Paris’”, 26 November 2024: https://www.lemonde.fr/politique/article/2024/11/26/anne-hidalgo-je-ne-me-presenterai-pas-a-un-troisieme-mandat-de-maire-de-paris_6414736_823448.html

• — “Hidalgo Reshaped Paris Public Space, but Critics Say Upkeep Fell Behind” by Hélène Bekmezian, 9 March 2026:

• — “Paris Hit Record Debt Under Hidalgo, Fueling Election Fight” by Hélène Bekmezian, 8 March 2026:

• — “Paris Mayoral Election: Who’s Running?” by Hélène Bekmezian & Manon Romain, 31 January 2026:

  https://www.lemonde.fr

• France 24 — “Paris Mayor Hidalgo Says to Bow Out in 2026”: https://www.france24.com/en/live-news/20241126-paris-mayor-hidalgo-says-to-bow-out-in-2026

• EurActiv via Eurasia Review — “Paris Mayoral Race Heats Up As Right Eyes End to Socialist Rule”: https://www.eurasiareview.com/03012026-paris-mayoral-race-heats-up-as-right-eyes-end-to-socialist-rule/

• Monocle — “Your Guide to the 2026 Paris Municipal Elections”: https://monocle.com/affairs/politics/paris-municipal-mayoral-candidates-2026/

• Jacobin — “Paris Mayor Anne Hidalgo’s Olympic Wager” by Phineas Rueckert: https://jacobin.com/2024/08/anne-hidalgo-paris-olympics-macron

• Wikipedia — 2026 Paris municipal election overview: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2026_Paris_municipal_election

• The New Paris Podcast — Ep. 157: “Anne Hidalgo’s Paris Legacy & the 2026 Vote” with Phineas Rueckert.

Introducing Contributor, Judy MacMahon:

Visit her Contributor Page — Explore more of Judy’s work

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The previous year, industry news had been dominated by recruitment difficulties and trouble housing summer hospitality workers.

In 2025, the problem wasn’t so much finding restaurant staff as keeping them busy. And restaurant owners’ tempers started to rise to a slow boil.

A problem years in the making

As everywhere, French restaurants suffered during the COVID period. Then, inflation started to nibble away at clients’ budgets, as well as drive up operators’ expenses. Meanwhile, non-traditional eateries are on the increase, giving diners myriad cheaper options, including:

• Major fast food chains: McDonald’s is pursuing an aggressive plan of moving into towns with populations under 5,000,¹ with a stated longer-term goal of being within a 20-minute reach of every French citizen. ² And Burger King, which left the French market in 1997, came charging back in 2016, and now operates over 600 franchises. ³

• Local fast food joints: independent restaurants selling kebabs, French tacos, and Asian take-out have increased since a slight post-Covid dip.⁴

• Bakeries: the majority of boulangeries, especially outside of big city centers, have vastly expanded their meal choices, proffering fancy sandwiches, salads, and even traditional hot dishes. Some, such as the attractive Feuillette, are playing hardball in the café/restaurant field.

• Food trucks, food courts, and at-home delivery are also on the rise

Finally, Airbnb and similar self-catering lodgings give tourists a place to cook or comfortably chow down on take-out, rather than actually going out.

Summer 2025: un été très compliqué

In a seemingly endless news cycle, the national and local press confirmed a bleak picture for restaurateurs: tourists were touring, but they weren’t dining out. And when they were, they often eschewed the main margin-makers: starters, drinks, and desserts.

It’s to the point that tourists are sharing ice creams and main dishes” complained one restaurant owner⁵— a practice that was grimly frowned upon, if not firmly refused, in the recent past.

Simmering anger

According to the president of the national hotel and restaurant association (UMIH), Michelin-starred chef Thierry Marx, customers “feel betrayed” by rising prices. But he explains that soaring raw material, personnel, and overhead costs have left restaurants with little choice but to hike up l’addition. At the same time, he gives a stark warning of a possible dégastronimisation of the country.⁶

Besides costs, other pesky factors were getting under restaurant owners’ summer skin:

• Marchés nocturnes

France’s calendar of warm weather goings-on has filled up over the years with a plethora of open-to-the-public outdoor meals. One of the most popular formats is the trademarked Marché des Producteurs de Pays, sponsored by Chambers of Agriculture and featuring farm-to-table food. This one in Ayen, Corrèze was drawing 1000 diners every Thursday in the summer of 2015.

Here, tourists and locals pick up their own picnic fixings, or tuck into ready-made dishes concocted by local farmers.

Inspired by the success of this strictly chartered format, less stringently regulated marchés gourmands have sprung up, catered by standard food trucks and by local associations allowed to fill their coffers this way, possibly to make up for reduced government subsidies.⁷

These markets are festive, friendly, and fun — but restaurants have cried foul.

The president of the UMIH in Lot-et-Garonne, Occitanie, supported by his national hierarchy, has called the markets’ proliferation “unfair competition,” and urges local politicians to exert more control over them. ⁸

He has a point: 396 marchés gourmands took place in the Lot-et-Garonne department alone (population +/- 330,000) in July and August 2025 — an average of 6.5 every night.

Les titres-restaurant

Formerly known as tickets restaurant, these vouchers are a perk that many French employees buy into. Workers in companies that don’t provide a cafeteria can choose to contribute a certain monthly amount to the scheme, and the employer matches it.

While using the vouchers outside of workweek lunch breaks has long been widely tolerated, the vouchers do clearly say restaurant. But during the COVID period, their use was extended to supermarkets, under what was supposed to be a temporary exception.

Much to the dismay of the restaurant industry, the government decided last June to continue this “exception”…indefinitely.⁹

Are the times a-changin’ ?

While inflation and competition are certainly factors in the French restaurant crisis, an eternal truth may also be at work: times change.

Before la nouvelle cuisine hit the scene in the 1970s, a typical festive meal out might have included a soup and several starters, a fish course and a meat course, cheese, an entremets (often a lighter dessert), then one or more other desserts.

But by the late 20th century, the starter/main dish/cheese/dessert format had largely taken over, with cheese often left off of restaurant meals. ¹⁰

These days, I’ve definitely observed that diners don’t hesitate to share a planche de charcuterie and call it dinner, or content themselves with a starter as a main course —and not always for budgetary reasons.

Especially in big cities, trendy, decidedly non-traditional eateries offer up small plates, light meals, and variations of tapas, leading to quicker table turnover for the restaurant and offering customers a relaxed, budget-friendly experience. And employees are now less prone to spending their long lunch break à table. ¹¹

It could just be a gut feeling, but I’m afraid many traditional French dining establishments will need to do some adapting, or they could be serving their last courses.

Betty

Have you noticed this trend? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Sources and Further Reading below and on France in Between

“Study IPA. Drill nasal vowels. Memorize silent letters.”

And sure, those have their place.

But what if the secret to truly speaking French, with beauty, with emotion, with flow, lies elsewhere?

Let me present you with a different path. A softer, more powerful one:
Poetry, music, and literature.

We learn to speak by listening. By repeating. By feeling the sounds.

This is how children learn. This is how actors train. This is how language becomes not just accurate, but alive.

And this is why I believe:

Think of a line of poetry whispered slowly.
A chanson française echoing in your ears.
A phrase from Le Petit Prince spoken with tenderness.

Immersion in poetic rhythm is not just for artists. It’s a deeply effective, soul-soothing way to improve your French, especially your pronunciation.

Let’s look at why.

New here? Don’t miss your free welcome gift: A Poetic Guide to French Pronunciation

1. Precision of Sound: The Power of Poetic Language

Poets don’t waste words. Every syllable matters.
In French poetry, you meet the language in its most distilled, musical form.
Through verses, you internalize how sounds interact, where the stress naturally falls, how vowels open, and how consonants soften or vanish.

Want to speak more clearly? Learn from those who mastered clarity in verse.

2. Rhythm & Melody Improve Pronunciation

French is a language of musical flow, and that flow is built into its poetry and chanson.
By reading aloud and listening to poems or songs, you’ll start to:

• Hear the natural intonation

• Feel where the voice lifts, glides, or pauses

• Reproduce nasal sounds (on, an, un) and pure vowels (é, è, eu) with more ease

Pronunciation doesn’t just come from rules. It comes from repetition and listening deeply. Poetry trains your ear, and your voice.

3. Punctuation Teaches You When to Breathe

French punctuation in poetry is musical, it’s not there just for grammar. It tells you:

• When to pause

• When to continue with momentum

• How to control your breath

Read Prévert or Baudelaire aloud, and you’ll naturally begin to regulate your pace, a hidden but essential skill in spoken French.

4. Literary Devices Spark Deeper Learning

French poetry and literature is full of rich imagery, double meanings, and metaphors. Engaging with it gives you a reason to:

• Slow down

• Read between the lines

• Connect emotionally with what you’re learning

An emotional connection leads to retention. You remember what touches you. And that helps the language stick.

5. Culture and Context Become Part of Your Voice

Every poem is a window into the French soul.

Reading literature and poetry introduces you to:

• Cultural references

• Historical moments

• Emotional undercurrents in the language

When you learn pronunciation this way, you don’t just sound better, you feel more French.

Ready to Begin?

I’ve created a gentle resource just for you:

Free for all subscribers to French en Poésie.

This guide will help you:

• Learn the essential French sounds (like ou, on, eau, oi, ç, ai…)

• Understand pronunciation rules without the overwhelm

• Use poetry and rhythm to train your ear and voice

It’s soft. It’s soulful. It’s how I believe language should be learned.

Subscribe now (on my site), and it will be sent to your inbox automatically.
Let beauty be your teacher. Let sound be your guide.
Let poetry lead you to fluency.

With love and poésie,
Morgane

Have you tried learning with poetry before? Share your experiences below in the comments section.

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Introducing Contributor, Morgane Andersson

Immerse yourself in all of Morgane’s articles on her Contributor page.

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Bonjour — and welcome. I’m so glad you’re here. I thought it was time to introduce myself for those of you who are new here :)

🇫🇷 I’m Judy MacMahon — Fondatrice of MyFrenchLife™ – MaVieFrançaise®, Magazine and Global Community, and if you love France the way I do, I think you’re going to feel right at home.

MyFrenchLife™ started 16 years ago with a simple belief: France deserves to be really understood, not just visited.

Not France as a postcard. Not the clichés — though honestly, some clichés exist for very good reason 😉. But the France that surprises you. Moves you. The France that, once you glimpse it, you can’t stop wanting more of.

Over the years, this little passion project of mine has grown into something that still takes my breath away. More than 12,000 francophiles from all across the globe. Thirty-five talented Contributors writing from France, bringing you stories I couldn’t tell alone. le Bulletin newsletter lands in your inbox each weekend — immersive, nourishing, never rushed. A curated Library of hundreds of the finest Substacks about France. And the fabulous Collection of deep-dive articles exploring French culture from this way and that. And a BookClub that somehow manages to feel intimate across more than six time zones — we laugh a lot, as you might imagine.

What I love most is the connections. People who’ve never met, sharing stories about a village, a book, a moment in France — and suddenly feeling less alone in their francophilia. That’s what this place is, really. A community of like-minded souls searching for what lies beneath the surface of France.

Whether you’re dreaming of France from afar, living it every day, or planning your next voyage, you belong here.

Warm regards, Judy 🇫🇷

Fondatrice, MyFrenchLife™ – MaVieFrançaise® Gain a deeper understanding of France — beyond the cliché.

If you’d like to go deeper with us — the full collection of French culture deep-dive articles, le Bulletin newsletter each weekend, the curated library of 100 writers from France, the BookClub, the Writers’ Room — I’d love to have you join our ‘salon’ as a paid subscriber.
France rewards those who look closely.
So do we.
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Introducing Contributor, Judy MacMahon:

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A few times a quarter I get the classic DM requesting Paris recommendations. Maybe an old colleague will be in town for a few days and wants to eat like a local. Perhaps a friend from business school is passing through and wants to know where they can get a great cocktail in Paris. Or a friend of a friend of my parents wants activities recommendations even though they already booked a hotel near the Arc de Triomphe and nothing I say is going to save their trip at this point.

I take Paris recommendations extremely seriously because I don’t want to ruin someone’s vacation or let them down or cause them not to like me anymore. I always reply with a heartfelt, overly detailed set of restaurant, monument, museum, leisure time ideas, all with too much context and too many caveats. (Yes, I know over-explaining is a trauma response. No, I’m not going to work on it.) It’s likely that no one even reads these lists I make, but at least I know if their vacation sucks, it won’t be my fault.

Instead of reinventing the wheel every time I get a recommendation request, I decided to create a singular recommendation email that I send to everyone who hits me up. This still takes a lot of time to curate, type up, and edit every so often as restaurants change or close. I don’t know how Rick Steves does it. And after all of that work, I somehow always end up losing the email in my drafts or my sent messages. I accidentally revert to an old one that isn’t up-to-date, the formatting gets all wonky when I copy and paste the content into a new email, etc. So I decided to make it a Substack post so I can send people the link and send them on their way. Actually, it was my husband’s idea, and as I’m frequently quite hard on him I’ll give credit where credit is due.

That said, I am no food and culture expert, I’m just a normal human who lives in Paris. I literally steal everything I do or recommend from Le Fooding, Paris By Mouth, and The New Paris Dispatch. They post about a resto, I bookmark it, I visit, I save it if I like it, I tell you to go there when you visit. That’s all this machine can do. Some of us are explorers or great thinkers. Others of us are curators and critics; that’s me.

Anyway, that caveat over-explained, here’s my extremely long and detailed list of Paris recs with elaborated asides to make an actual post out of this. Bookmark it, annotate it, reference it, critique it. Let me know what I forgot to include; we all know I’ll remember all my omissions as soon as I hit “publish.”

Franchement is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts, support my work, and make my day, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Parks

They’re all good but I think some are better than others. People always ask me what there is to do in Paris, and I say that you can either eat, drink, or stroll. Parks are a huge part of life here, so grab a snack and sit and chat like the Parisians do.

• Parc des Buttes Chaumont (20eme): More local vibes, newer, but with a really cool island in the middle. Where Parisians go on a sunny day. Literally every Parisian. It will be crowded. Rather steep lawns so be prepared to hike.

• Coulée Verte (12eme): The Highline of Paris. Actually the Highline is based on this park, don’t get it twisted. My personal happy place in Paris where I’ve laughed, cried, run in the rain, lunched, read, and gotten my 15k/day steps in. Lots of loud-breathing joggers plodding along the route, but you don’t have to move for them because there are posted signs that say jogging is only tolerated, the park is primarily for walkers.

• Place des Vosges (4eme) is the first real park in Paris, or so a friend told me many years ago and I’m too lazy to fact check such a harmless fact. It’s pretty quaint, but can get very full of influencer types these days. Great cafes and shopping in the surrounding area. Lovely at around 9am, if you happen to have a child who is forcing you out of the house that early. It does have those two-sided benches that are super awkward if you deign to use both sides.

• Along the Seine: Lots of picnic spots or places to grab a quick drink on the right bank. Group dancing on the Quai de Saint Bernard. Just show up without a plan and walk; this is literally the whole point of Paris.

• Bois de Bologne and Bois de Vincennes: yes they’re not central, but both are gorgeous. Go touch grass after spending time in gray Paris.

• You’ll notice I didn’t mention the Tuileries, Jardin des Plantes, Jardin du Luxembourg, and Monceau. That’s because there’s no need to, you already know about them. They’re huge, amazingly beautiful, worth visiting even when they’re a crowded human soup on a sunny day. But you don’t need me to tell you that.

Lunch

Most of these are the types of places I hit up for lunch on a normal day. Save them for when you’re sick of a big three-course French lunch and you wouldn’t mind eating a vegetable.

• Le Chanceux (11eme and 5eme): good for breakfast or lunch, feels like it would fit in in HLP or Los Feliz, maybe that’s why I feel at home there. I literally never shut up about this place and bring anyone who will let me to sample their mushroom melt. Very good option if you’re tired of heavy bistro food.

• Plan D near the Canal in the 10eme: Really fun vegan sandwich place, great spot for lunch if you’re hanging out at the canal. They usually have two monthly sandwiches based on a color. Just buy the whole menu, to be honest.

• Marche des Enfants Rouges (3eme): Covered market with tons of food, like the Original Farmers Market but of course better. Great for lunch, but can get full of tourists so book or get there early for the highly publicized spots. I find it kind of pricy compared to other similar restaurants in Paris, but if you’re American you won’t even notice.

• Gramme (11th or 3rd): More Instagrammable lunch and brunch vibes. I’ve actually never been because I’m worried I’ll have to stand in line and I’m too old to stand in line for restaurants. I think you can reserve at the location in the 11eme, however. I’ve heard it’s very good, though.

• Chez Aline (11eme): Some argue they have the best sandwiches in Paris, and I am some. Get there early enough to not miss out on the tortilla española, it will sell out. The chicken salad is maybe the best I’ve ever had, which is really saying something because I care about chicken salad more than most folks do.

• Olga Wine and Cheese (12eme): I think I already said my favorite sandwich was at Chez Aline but it’s also at Olga. Creative yet simple sandwiches and desserts, curated wines and cheeses, and the most attractive sandwich paper on the continent, nay, the world. Get the formule so you can taste the homemade confiture. Can’t say enough good things about this place.

• I love to get omusubi from Omusubi Gonbei Palais Royal or Aki Cafe then go and take it to Jardin du Palais Royal and have a picnic and reflect on how freaking amazing my life is. Having a good day? Omosubi picnic. Having a bad day? Omosubi picnic to improve the day.

• KEÏLI (11eme): Tired of steak frites or ham sandwiches? Miss a giant, filling grain bowl covered in veggies and sauces? This is the place for you. The desserts are also delicious and the staff is super friendly.

• Cantine Diderot (12eme): This place serves the type of food you’ll find at a bouillon, but the vibe is much more locals-only bistro. I like to treat myself to a steak lunch here now and then complete with entree and/or dessert and the bill is like fifteen euros. It’s quick, it’s French, it’s charming, but never a tourist in sight.

• Le Cornichon (10eme): Don’t let how cool this place is put you off, the food is great. I actually like coming here for apero and small plates as well, but they don’t take evening resys, and I’m barely cool enough to show my face here past 7pm. But they do take lunchtime reservations, have wonderful lunch specials, inspiring entrees, and a green salad that I literally crave from time to time. If you’re going to dine here, please invite me.

Dinner

Yes everything is heavily weighted toward the 10th and 11th but that’s the zone where I live and dine.

• Cafe Compagnon (2eme): More elevated, contemporary French cuisine but looks like an LA spot which is a huge compliment in my books. Good central location near Montorgueil and lots of famous walking areas. I don’t remember the particulars of what I ate here, just that it was all very good. I do remember the particulars of the chairs at the restaurant, and my life won’t be complete until I have similar ones in my home.

• Bonhomie (10eme): Another very beautiful but not overly fussy, spot with contemporary, well-considered vibes and food. They also have some good cocktails if memory serves.

• Avant Comptoir du Marché (6eme): Haven’t managed to get here yet because I don’t want to risk trekking down to the 6th and not be able to get a table. Yes, there’s a theme here. But highly recommended French food, favorite of Anthony Bourdain. They do something cool with the butter, I think.

• Bouche (11eme): Great small plates and wine bar, usually need a resy. They have a gorgeous large table you can reserve; I need to come up with an occasion that merits it.

• Chez Janou (4eme): Popular spot for people watching in the Marais. Actually, I wrote this before Chez Janou absolutey BLEW UP on TikTok a cause de its mousse au chocolat. Now the line is even longer, though they do now accept reservations. I’ve heard it’s still good but I haven’t verified this myself. Maybe I’m not putting this on here to recommend that you go; maybe I’m adding it so you are aware of the notoriety of this spot and can make an educated decision as to whether you should go.

• Robert et Louise (3eme): Meat

• Le Denicheur (2eme): Tiny winy bar w/ small plates, definitely reserve. Everything is delicious. You will be the least cool person there.

• Near the eiffel tower is Cafe Du Mars, really great for dinner, updated French food in a classic yet understated ambience. They have a super chill cat who will come and sit next to you.

• I really like La Belle Epoque in the 2nd. The food is pretty good, the ambiance is gorgeous, but mostly I like it because I saw Louis Garrel there once and he was looking foine.

• I personally love Au Bon Coin in the 18eme. It’s a locals only, red checked tablecloth, hole-in-the-wall type of place. No frills, nothing to write home about, but it’s exactly what you want for a quick, filling duck confit or saucisse lentils.

• My friend once said “I want to go somewhere buzzy with lots of natural wine and really good small plates” and I know exactly what she meant. If you are in that mood, hit up: Cafe du Coin, Amagat, Early June, Le Chardon, Cafe Content, Recoin, and especially my recent favorite, Cendrillon. You might also be the least cool person at each of these.

• (Quick aside: A week ago I would have put Chambre Noire on that list but a recent dinner there has convinced me I should never recommend this place to visiting Americans. Food and wine were good of course, but we were fighting for our lives to get service. Like aggressively begging to order and receive food in exchange for money. If I had feelings, our server would have hurt them, but I’m a calloused beast at this point, impervious to rude servers. If I was new in town, I would have starved. I’ll probably go back, of course.)

• There aren’t many reasons to head to the 20eme if you’re not staying very long or if it’s one of your first times in Paris. But if you want to get off the beaten path, I highly recommend Paulownia, which I heard about from a chef in Jura who told us about it and luckily my much more restaurant-savvy friend remembered his recommendatio

• If you can’t make it a few days without tacos, never fear, Paris now has good ones. I recommend Candelaria, Furia, El Cartel Del Taco, and Tarantula. Read more about why these in particular are so good in this post I wrote for Paris Unlocked.

• Good rule of thumb: if the restaurant menu is in French and isn’t too long, and most of the patrons look like locals, it’s likely fine-to-good. If you see even one person wearing a backpack at the restaurant, get out of there, you’re in danger of eating a twenty euro croque madame.

Boulangeries & Pâtisseries

• Mamiche in the 10eme is as great as they say. But if you’re not in the mood to wait in line, feel free to go somewhere else and you’ll be just fine.

• Any pâtisserie that is Cedric Gollet or Cyril Lignac is over-hyped but over-hyped for a reason. If the line is short, go ahead. If the line is long, skip it, you’ll be just fine.

• Sometimes the best boulangerie is the one that is closest to you. I’m partial to Boulangerie Bo and Ble Sucre in my old neighborhood. There’s also one called Magnolia that creates some very original and beautiful croissants and patisserie.

• Don’t order a “baguette,” order a “tradition.” Learn more about why here.

• All I’ll say about Du Pain et des Idees is that I don’t get it, but I do like how sassy the women who work there are.

• Everyone is very hyped on The French Bastards right now (11eme). I actually haven’t been. I was supposed to meet my friend there for a sandwich but it was the day they closed off much of the 5eme for the Olympics and he was trapped inside his block as a result and had to cancel. True story.

Coffee

• If you want a Paris cafe vibe, just pick whichever one looks to have the most locals on the terrace, avoid anything with fake flowers. The vibes will be right but the coffee will be meh.

• For the coffee your body needs: you’ll need to find a more contemporary coffee place like: Back in Black, Ten Belles, Beans on Fire, Bonjour Jacob, Dreamin’ Man, Fauna, Magic Carpet, Noir. All of these will have your cafe filtre or a flat white or a cold brew from some kind of decent beans and not a Nespresso pod.

• If you absolutely have to go to Starbucks, I understand. No judgement, sometimes I need a PSL, too. But, I will caution that Starbucks brand experience is not always consistent over here. Every latte I get is milky and flavorless, and the iced drinks are served in paper cups which negates the gorgeous sound of ice clinking against the side of the plastic cup. It’s just not the same. They also don’t have the little egg bites.

Drinks

I drink so few cocktails here because there are so few bars in Paris serving good ones. That doesn’t mean there aren’t ANY good cocktail bars or dive bars, they’re just fewer and harder to find. I have had several very good cocktails in Paris over the last five years. I have also had two of the worst cocktails of my entire life here, so bad that I can remember them.

Wine is also relatively better and better priced than any decent cocktail you can find in Paris, so it makes more sense to stick with wine. When in Rome, etc.

• There are so many good wine bars in paris, both old and new, many of which also have better food than most LA restaurants. Here is a random list of hits: Baron Rouge, Delicatessen Place, Caves du Prague, Les Amoureuses, Giclette, Septime la Cave, La Buvette.

• There are a few rooftop bars called “Perchoire” that have great views of the city at sunset, drinks are lame, vibes are very WeHo so it’s a bit cringey, but worth it for the view. The one in the 10eme might be a little more chill than the one in the 3eme that’s on top of the BHV. You do have to get in line earlier than they open for a chance to actually go in.

• Canal St. Martin and Basin de la Villette (10eme-19eme) are pretty walks with lots of places to hang out along them, more beer bars as you get to the 19eme.

• Walk down Rue de Faubourg Saint-Denis and stop in literally anywhere that looks cool, it’s always a party there.

Museums and Sites

• Sadly, the Louvre is perpetually crowded, but the building is very cool. There’s a good restaurant inside but it’s always booked. Surrounding parks are lovely but usually also crowded. Worth it to go at least once in your life, but you need to plan your moment, your entrance strategy, your visit route, and be prepared to be exhausted afterward. Be sure to google the “hidden entrance” that is via a different set of stairs, it’s a faster way to get in. Recently even that has been crowded. You’ve been warned.

• Musée d’Orsay (7eme) is great but it’s also huge so you better really be into art to commit to it. Has a beautiful cafe inside with tasty iced tea, including ice cubes. Recommend pre-booking tickets to avoid the lines.

• Musée Rodin (7eme) is tiny, beautiful, and the collection is amazing. That guy could really sculpt! Skip the big museums and go here and Musée de l’Orangerie instead and you’ll leave Paris happy.

• Musée Bourdelle (near Montparnasse) is a recently reopened sculpture museum that is also beautiful, free, and not overwhelmingly large. Amazing cafe there with great, well-priced food, highly recommended for brunch or lunch.

• Musée Carnavalet (3eme) is free and shows the history of Paris, has a cute bistro inside, one of the prettiest places to have lunch in Paris. Book museum in advance, I highly recommend going during lunch when everyone else is actually eating lunch.

• I love the Pompidou, the collection, the views, the children’s area. Sadly it’s going to be closing for remodeling for about five years so… yeah. Maybe come back in five years.

• Cimetière du Père-Lachaise is usually a nice outing in my opinion--depends on what you’re into. It is cool to be like “oh wow Chopin is literally buried right there.”

• Sacre Coeur: I’ve literally never been inside. It’s such an impressive edifice, but damn if the surrounding areas aren’t overrun with tourists and scammers. Do yourself a favor and read a history of this church and how it was built. Now that’s entertainment.

• Notre Damme: It’s open! It’s light and airy! The new pews are gorgeous, I wouldn’t mind putting a set in my living room. The line moves in so give it a whirl. Don’t forget to dip down to Saint Sulpice though, too. Also beautiful.

• Catacombs: Not a huge fan. I’ve never met anyone who has gone and said it was a must-see, especially given the lines. If you really want to go, definitely book an appointment and don’t just show up. Don’t go on a hot day.

Areas and Random Thoughts

• Montorgueil: This is a great street with many delicious patisseries and historic spots to try. Can be crowded but worth it especially for your first trip to Paris. Also, it took me about three years to be able to pronounce this street name. It’s kinda like “mont-or-goyyee.”

• Opera: worth walking around, visiting some of the large department stores, even the Starbucks in this area is impressive. I’d recommend touring Palais Garnier over visiting Versailles if you want to see some gold.

• Latin Quarter: definitely stop by this area for lunch or dinner to people watch. One of the most charming areas of Paris, even though it can get congested with other tourists sometimes.

• Shopping: Avoid Les Halles as much as you can, even though there’s a mall there. The 3eme nearby to the east is great for walking around and shopping, lots of brands mixed in with smaller boutiques. Definitely hit up Merci on Beaumarchais.

• Malls: The BHV, Galeries Lafayette, Printemps, and Bon Marche are extremely huge and gorgeous. They succeed in making me miss malls. Galeries Lafayette can be painfully crowded with tourists, so I’d recommend any of the others instead. We didn’t really like the Samaritane when we went, not enough to see and too many people, though the building is pretty.

• Cute shops: Amour Fou, Officine Universelle Buly, Fleux (there’s like five of them on one block), Marin Montagut, Messy Nessy’s Cabinet

• Theft and safety: The worst thing that will happen to you here is to get pickpocketed, but that’s it. Don’t have your phone out on the metro, especially if you’re near the doors; young dudes will grab your phone and run out of the metro just before the doors close so you can’t chase them. Don’t put anything in your back pockets, esp. on metros. Carry small bags and small crossbody bags WITH ZIPPERS. They know how to open clasps without you realizing it. Backpacks give away that you’re a tourist. Don’t talk loudly on the metro either, that’s a dead giveaway that you’re not local and makes you a target. Lines 1, 12, and 4 tend to have the most tourists, therefore the most targeted metros, so just be on your guard. Almost everyone takes cards here (except AmEx), so no need to carry a lot of cash at any given moment.

• THE MOST IMPORTANT FRANCE TIP: Any time you enter a store, restaurant, cafe, bar, etc. say “bonjour!” to the person working there. This is a cultural thing and if you don’t start off with saying hello in this way, it’s considered extremely rude. If you’re asking for help, say “Pardon, bonjour” or “Excusez moi, bonjour” and then ask for English or whatever you need help with. If it’s after 6pm, say “bonsoir” instead of “bonjour” and don’t worry if you say the wrong one, even French people mess this up all the time.

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Introducing Contributor, Selby Chambers

Immerse yourself in all of Selby’s articles on her Contributor page.

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