I thought I’d follow that up with some recommendations that are more than fine, that I think are very much worth your time and attention. (More food recs in my series for The Infatuation).

L’Escale
A spot dans son jus, as we say, with prime real estate on the Ile Saint-Louis, drenched in natural light, where regulars pack in for a quick chat and an espresso and return for lunch and travelers hold court on the terrace (now open!) that faces the Seine. The coffee hasn’t gotten an upgrade (I must issue caution) but there’s a new owner who had the good sense to bring on the American chef Matt Robinson to oversee the cooking. Everyone has taken notice. There are affordable, simple and hearty dishes of the day at lunch and garlic-stuffed chicken with perfect fries (with a lil skin!) on Sunday. It is already becoming a place you may need to reserve, though not too far in advance, and mostly for Sunday chicken. Better yet, stop in, get to know them, and they’ll pencil you in.

1 rue des Deux Ponts, 75004

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A photo of a good-looking dish, generously plated, catches my eye on a friend’s Instagram story. It’s from a newly opened neighborhood restaurant getting industry traction. “How was it?!” I ask. “Fine 🤷🏻‍♀️”, I’m told. Technically solid, good ingredients, comfortable atmosphere, but unmemorable and underwhelming.

This one-word review seems to encapsulate much of the sentiment about dining out in a certain type of restaurant in Paris these days. I said it the other week after a fun but profoundly mid experience that even some discerning friends had showered with praise; I said it a few weeks ago at another new bar-bistrot I had to review for work; and I hear it from Parisians in my circle who dine out regularly and have palates that align closely with mine. Christine Muhlke, the writer, consultant, and former executive editor of Bon Appétit, used a similar word to describe many of her experiences on a recent Paris visit: nice.

Perhaps it’s true elsewhere (Americans, Brits: chime in!), but surely in the city whose post-COVID culinary energy I have written about at length and have been excited to witness, there shouldn’t be quite such a proliferation of average. It’s not the first time for Paris— remember the shift from passé to back-in-a-big-way thanks to the bistronomy boom, encompassed and inspired much of my first book? This isn’t quite that. Fortunately, I think (I hope) what we’re experiencing now is easier to overcome.

“We are in an era of fine,” I concluded with Doublet of Le Fooding fame and the whip-smart newsletter . But why is this happening? She and I get into it.

🥐

Lindsey Tramuta: What’s going on, Christine? Has something changed in the last six months to make fine the new F&B trend?

Christine Doublet: I was thinking about this this morning after our conversation. If someone is opening a business, because a restaurant is, after all, a business, then they must be confident in the product they’re putting out, be it adventurous fine dining or a neighborhood bistro. They must have built a business plan, taste-tested, conducted friends & family meals and said to themselves, “this is great”, “this is going to knock people’s socks off” or “this is worth putting out into the world”. And so on the other side as a customer I’m expecting to be wowed or at the very least satisfied by the experience. But I guess I’ve been wondering if, given how hard the restaurant business has been of late (including but not limited to an exponential increase in restaurant closures due notably to rising prices), maybe business owners are actually aiming for fine instead? If people are actually, purposefully opening safe restaurants?

LT: This is a really interesting point. It feels plausible and yet: is the point of getting into the food business to run something safe when the very real risk is that you don’t inspire return visits? Maybe these establishments aren’t thinking that far ahead. That, in itself, is an issue. Opening up and doing “their best”, even if mediocre, is a short-sighted strategy. And some of the places that are fine are run by chefs or industry people who probably don’t see their ventures as aiming for average. Given how little people earn in this industry on balance, isn’t it a self-fulfilling prophecy?

CD: So if they aren’t aiming for average, then have we become too difficult? Neither of us is the average diner. We go out to eat A LOT and to A LOT of amazing places, so if these places aren’t aiming for fine, if this is what they think is their best, and if they are generally functioning and getting decent reviews and full dining rooms, then are we the problem?

I actually think that despite eating out so much I’m actually pretty easy to please, I just want the food to be tasty, the service to be warm, and to feel something, anything, when I go out to eat (side bar: this makes me think of my favorite Liz Lemon quote). I will add that none of these fine places we are talking about actually serve bad food; everything is cooked well, properly portioned, well seasoned enough. It’s just I can’t think of a single defining characteristic that makes one place stand out compared to another.

LT: I did wonder if this was an us, not them, problem. But then again, plenty of friends in my circle who don’t necessarily dine out as much have also shrugged after certain experiences. Again, as you said: not bad at all, just not memorable. I wonder if it’s directly connected to a dining category. Fine dining can’t really afford to be complacent. I’ve had meals at Michelin-caliber tables that weren’t super memorable, for various reasons, but nonetheless well above fine! Is this a midrange affliction, you think?

CD: I don’t know if this answers the fine-dining question exactly, but I do think the price and the restaurant’s positioning play into the experience and your expectations. To me, a fine fine dining restaurant is not fine, it’s bad. If you describe your establishment as fine dining and have the price point (and dare I say Michelin stars) to back it up, then you better be delivering on the plate. You can’t coast on fine. Fine, in that context, is inadequate. So yes, I would generally say that here, fine refers to mid-range restaurants with a 25-35 € lunch menu and a 50-60 € à la carte dinner.

Continuing on the price conversation: the general population is being more careful with how they spend their money as prices have risen in pretty much all aspects of life, so I guess that’s what makes me the most uncomfortable about all these fine restaurants. I want to say to people, “SAVE YOUR MONEY! GO HERE INSTEAD!” What do you think? Like if we had endless amounts of money to spend on restaurants, then maybe a fine meal here and there wouldn’t be so offensive.

LT: Absolutely. My bill came to 100+€ at one of the fine bistro experiences I had recently— for one glass of wine, one non-alcoholic drink, and a smattering of very average shared plates. It stung, and I felt instantly dissatisfied. My guess is that the reason we’re seeing coffee shops proliferate (and sometimes directly across the street from one another) is that there’s lower overhead for the owners and lower spend required for consumers. Is a 5 or 6€ flat white cheap? No. But when someone is budgeting and considering whether they meet friends at a coffee shop versus a bar or bistro, the calculus is vite fait. It’s the same reason I see young people flocking to N.G.E.s ( ’s idea of the nearest generic establishment) for super cheap beers at happy hour. It’s what they can afford when they want to be outside.

One chef-consultant friend did offer a different perspective on some of these average places opening and coasting: the owners don’t think to ask for help. They may not be testing recipes thoroughly, they’re in a rush to open, and their circle of industry friends aren’t necessarily telling them the truth. Could that be at play here?

CT: Regarding the rush to open, definitely. I feel like once you invest, once you spend months on construction, at a certain point you need to open and start making money. Whether industry friends aren’t telling the truth, I feel like that goes back to the restaurant closures/rising prices/lack of staff mentioned earlier. It hasn’t been an easy few years for restaurants, so maybe people feel they need to be overly supportive and are not actually giving constructive criticism. Also, a lot of the places that are opening come from “the former sous-chef of so and so”, and “the wine girl from that other place,” so the people they are expecting to give them feedback are their former colleagues and peers. It must be tough to do that if you’re all trying to be supportive of one other in this difficult context.

But feedback is so so precious, Friends & Family (in the U.S. at least) exists for this very reason, but in France, F&F is mostly an excuse to invite press and influencers pre-opening in order to get the article or post you think you need to get clients through the door. On the other hand, I’ve also been to a few places recently that have opened and are specifically not contacting the press or doing any PR so they can have at least one or two months as a trial run to work out kinks. So it could be possible that a lot of these fine places that we’ve been to are actually just going through opening growing pains and are going to get better.

Do you think that’s possible? That a place can drastically improve post-opening? Foodwise, servicewise? Or are the actual concepts of these fine restaurants flawed to begin with?

LT: That’s certainly possible. This is very true in fine dining; why shouldn’t it be true in other categories? The issue is enticing people to return to give a place a second chance. That’s hard to bank on, especially in this economy and with so much choice! People make up their minds after one meal.

CD : I’d like to end on a positive note, though. One advantage of this sea of fine is how much more individual and unique restaurants stand out. Someplace like Pochana (12m², 12 seats, 1 chef, 1 somm, natural wines and homey Thaï food) seems so much more special in comparison to the one millionth basic French neo-bistro that I’ve been to. To me, Pochana is the perfect example of what a good restaurant should be: a distinct point of view; a clear message (as stated on their Instagram “Natural wine and Thai-ish dishes”, and that is exactly what you get); a short tasty menu (menus are often too long!!); an equally short but equally tasty wine list (due to the size of the restaurant they can only stock a certain amount of wine at a time but working within this limited framework works to their advantage, they’re curating instead of inundating); a good playlist; an affable server (Rémy, the somm and co-owner with his wife May, who’s in the kitchen); dimmed lighting (lighting is SO SO SO IMPORTANT in restaurants and is so often too bright or too white); and of course vibes for days (while a concept is easy to replicate, vibes are inexplicable and are the equivalent of a magic potion, it’s only when all elements are mixed together in the correct unmeasurable amounts that you achieve PEAK ambiance).

To me, all of this equals someplace that leaves a mark and leaves you wanting more. I don’t know if you’d be able to name a place in Paris (recently!) that spoke to you?

© @widowspeaking

LT: YES! I loved Pochana! I’m due for a return visit. This is exactly how I feel when I eat at Kubri, La Joie, Trâm 130, Ama Siam, Comptoir De Vie, and even Chez Georges (I realize, it is not new! But it is a best-in-class example of what you’re describing.) Each offers something different, culinarily speaking, but consistency is part of their success. Some nail the right balance of spice and layered flavors; others (like the bistro) stick to a classic rulebook and go hard on the service and environment, which too many upstarts can only approximate in pastiche. Maybe it’s the revival bistros that are the weak link at the moment? The umpteenth neo-bistro with sharing plates that leave you hungry? Either way, here’s hoping this will be more of a phase of fine, rather than a full era!

CD: In the time we’ve been going back and forth, I tried something new and promising: Dents de Loup, a butcher shop that serves food like an insane saucisse-purée and housemade charcuterie. So maybe things are looking up?

Croisons les doigts!

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Something in the unfamiliar seems to unlock a part of the mind that ordinary life keeps tightly closed. I learned that firsthand last June when I spent a week at a comfortable remove from my daily life at La Gonette, in Simiane-la-Rotonde. It could have been the way the light hit the terrace or the slower pace, or maybe even the absence of obligation, but it was the kind of restorative and stimulating retreat that creative life requires.

For my first retreat as a participant, I was in the company of fellow city dwellers, among them Michael Cunningham and , who, like me, found themselves moved and inspired by the grand house called La Gonette, lovingly restored and transformed into a creative community gathering space by the novelist Alice Nelson. The conditions were right for reflection of all kinds.

For one week, the only words that required my attention were on the page— first others’, then my own. Meals were generous and nourishing, and, most importantly, prepared by Harriet and Jeni, who gave new meaning to the idea of feeding people as a form of care. The opportunity to just be during that week brought about several emotional breakthroughs, among them a reset in my focus and a desire to observe my surroundings more closely. I learned from men and women who traveled everywhere from Vermont to Melbourne — some of them writers, all of them avid readers and brilliant thinkers—to pore over short works of fiction, the technique of writing, and the flavours of Provence in a home that, it must be said, carries some kind of magic. (Don’t just take it from me, walked away with a similar impression!)

It is not for nothing that this house and this experience exist in Provence. For generations, the painterly light, sensuously rich landscapes, and sun-drenched southern produce of Provence have fed the imaginations of writers, artists, and chefs from all over the world. Here, they could see and think differently, at a comfortable remove from their routine. With dry heat and sharp winds, time slows. The mineral scent of limestone warmed in the afternoon sun, and the dusty chalk of a country path, runs beneath each day. Above it, a choir of cicadas rises, growing into a reassuring, reliable Provençal sound.

Naturally, I was delighted when Alice and Harriet at La Gonette offered me the opportunity to lead an experience of my own with them later this year. Those of you following my work for some time know how much I value women’s stories and while we tend to focus on the women who have been influenced by Paris, there are nearly as many who have found their calling and passions in Provence. (You can read about some of those women in the retreat brochure, here.)

Our week together will be shaped by many of the same conditions that have made this region generative for so many before us. There will be readings from carefully chosen short works and writing exercises designed for every level of experience, from the novelist to the committed journaler. We will share stories, discuss how a place can serve as a powerful muse, and gather around the table with some of the people shaping this community, from winemakers and chefs to artists and makers I had the chance to spend time with last summer. Food will anchor our days, rest will be built in, and the evenings will take care of themselves.

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Applications for this week are now open! Read through the brochure, get an idea of who you’ll meet along the way, and project yourself to Provence in autumn! There are other FAQs addressed on the retreat website but a few others below:

FAQs
Who is this for?
Book lovers, writers (though not a requirement at all!), creatives, deep thinkers, food lovers. The goal of this week is to sharpen our focus, create community, and learn! There will be a smattering of writing prompts but they can just as easily inspire a journal entry as an essay or piece of fiction one wishes to publish. Women will be front and center here but men are, of course, welcome.

Do I have to think about meals and getting around?
No! That’s actually what proved to be a massive gift for my brain last year: every meal was generous and thoughtfully taken care of, even those outside of La Gonette. Once you get to the train station in Marseille, you get in a van and the rest unfolds. Bliss!

What if I’m a bit of an introvert?
That’s okay! There will be group sessions and activities but if at any point in the afternoon you prefer some alone time to take a dip in the pool, read on the terrace, or go for a stroll in the village, you can. There is plenty of free time woven in for this reason.

Will you review my writing?
I’d be happy to review and discuss your work! We can schedule 1:1 sessions throughout the week.

Thanks for reading! If you think a friend would enjoy The New Paris Dispatch or this retreat, share it! Gift subscriptions are available here | Order copies of my books The New Paris, The New Parisienne, and The Eater Guide to Paris.

How many Americans could, legally, live abroad if they wanted to through ancestry or naturalization? A conservative estimate suggests that some 25 millions Americans hold dual nationality and could get on a plane, finances allowing, and live an entirely different life. An undetermined number of Americans are eligible for foreign citizenship but have not pursued it. Mine came through marriage (and many many years committed to France! And giving the state a lot of my money!) but today’s newsletter honoree, Fabienne Toback, was born with the potential for Swiss citizenship. And yet, while the award-winning filmmaker and producer of Netflix’s High on the Hog1could have moved abroad much earlier, she only made the jump two years ago— and to Paris.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
The Arts District in downtown Los Angeles.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
Not initially. I knew I always wanted to live in Europe, but I didn’t know how or when it was going to come into being. My dual citizenship was an important factor in deciding to move here. Initially, I did not have the ability to be naturalized by Switzerland, rights were awarded only by patrilineal succession, but that changed in 1985. After 9/11 and the Bush administration, along with the invasion in Afghanistan, I could see the United States heading toward rapid change, and one that might require me to broaden my and my son’s geographic choices. I applied for my citizenship, which was a lengthy process and voila, my children and I had new options.

It truly is a gift that I am super grateful for; I wasn’t going to let it languish by living my entire life in the U.S.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
There wasn’t a pivotal moment per se, but I knew it was going to happen at some point in my life. It had been a desire since I worked at Columbia Pictures (while I worked there, we had a Paris office).

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
As a producer and creative consultant, my income is always a bit in flux. I had accumulated enough savings and, as a newly single person, was simultaneously being priced out of Los Angeles. Moving abroad is always a big leap, but I didn’t overthink it. My dual citizenship with Switzerland definitely made it a bit easier.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
Je ne regrette rien! I read somewhere recently that there are two things you can’t change or come back from: having kids and dying. Outside of being dead — in which case it would definitely be too late — I have a friend whose mother just moved to Portugal—she’s 80! Would you say that’s too late? Too late for what, at the end of the day?

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
Moving is challenging; I also moved all my belongings. I don’t dwell on whether it was the right or wrong call. It’s done, and I embrace each day and look for the gifts that the move has given me.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
The list is long. The city is so steeped in history, it’s palpable, but I’m sure you hear that all the time. I think in our globalized world there isn’t anything here or there that I couldn’t acquire. Gone are the days of getting that really special food item, or textile or trinket. What I get here is the intangible. I do feel a sense of belonging, even though Switzerland is far more familiar to me, I appreciate the seamless integration into the European culture; it wasn’t something I had to learn or become familiar with. That’s a nice thing. I am still working up my French, which has been a bit rusty for the past two decades. Sadly, I realize that I'm not quite as fluent as I thought, or could be if my partner spoke to me in French—that last 20% is a doozy, ça me casse!

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
Truly, what’s not to love (ah, the overcrowded metro on a rainy afternoon!)? I digress. Paris is truly a wonderful city. I’ve been here for just over two years and I’m still scratching the surface of what it has to offer. I quickly bought a bike when I moved here and, for me, that has been such a delight. You really grasp the size of Paris, it’s a small town compared to Los Angeles. To me, that’s part of its charm.

As for the lowest, and coming from California, you can guess, no big surprise, it’s the weather. Adjusting to the long gray winter. But to be honest, the weather would have been a challenge no matter where I moved outside of Los Angeles. Bitter cold was out of the question. Coming from LA, I realize that I’d been used to four to five months of summer, May to October, and then 80°+F / 27°C on random days sprinkled throughout the “winter.” It’s funny that I never thought the summers were short when I was a kid in New York. The winters in Paris are nothing like New York. Those winters were agonizing, and at the same time, it was all I knew. I guess it’s the same here in Paris; it is what it is at the end of the day.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
I visit enough to get my fix, but there are definitely things I miss, such as my community of friends. I have met some incredible and lovely people, but the deep friendships, those I have back in the U.S. And honestly, here, I have been a bit wanting. Luckily, Paris is a place my people want to visit.

What book or movie do you most associate with the American experience abroad?
I’ve always carried within me a part of the European experience throughout my life, through my summers with my grandmother in Switzerland and my mother in the U.S. But maybe Julia Child’s My Life in France, which is such a fun book. I’ve read that James Baldwin’s Notes of a Native Son is a must; I will dive into that next.

If you had to narrow it down to one, what is the greatest lesson living abroad has taught you about yourself and the world?
Adapt. Be mindful of the cultural cues and how they present themselves. Be true to yourself, but also mindful not to expect the same in a foreign city, whether it be Paris or Prague.

Have you ever considered going back? (Why or why not)
I’ve only been here for a little over two years, so no, I haven’t considered going back. Sure, it can be challenging, especially when you see how the world is unfolding, but I feel that my journey is just getting started.

For those contemplating leaving the U.S., what do you suggest they consider most about the decision?
Do a dry run. Rent a place. Sure, everyone wants to move to Paris when they’re here on vacation— it’s warm, it’s sunny, or ahhh, the leaves are starting to change, it’s brisk and sunny. Yum! A city on highlight reel. One doesn’t plan a vacation thinking, “Hmm, when is the city at its most crappy, cold, and rainy?” I was most concerned about the winter, so I rented a place here from January to the end of April. I wanted to see Paris at her worst and watch her unfurl into her best. Et voilà!

Also, brush up on your language skills and understand that we, especially Americans, have a tendency of bringing our cultural norms and expectations. If imposed, that can be rude and disrespectful.

ADDITIONAL READING

The United States experienced negative net migration in 2025, with more people leaving than arriving for the first time in 90 years (and it’s not only for political reasons). (WSJ/The Independent)

American violence is pushing families to think about leaving (NYT)

+ My essay in Issue 13 of The Bitter Southerner on this topic— releasing this month! Subscribe to get your copy.

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Click here to read all previous Leaving America questionnaires. If you think a friend would enjoy The New Paris Dispatch, gift subscriptions are available here.

Four months after the jewel heist of the century, Louvre president Laurence des Cars resigned this week. The stolen jewels and security failings weren’t the only crises she was mired in during her five-year tenture: There have been accusations of budget mismanagement, and internal tensions with staff and trade unions leading to strikes that forced the museum to close four times since mid-December resulting in more than €2 million in losses. To make matters worse, two weeks ago, nine individuals were arrested in connection with a €10 million ticketing fraud scheme that investigators uncovered. Another potential casualty in all this? The multi billion euro Louvre refurbishment project announced by President Macron in early 2025, due to shaky finances and cultural objections.

In many countries, scaling back a building project would register as little more than a scratch for a leader. In France, however, where presidents have long viewed these grand projects as crowning achievements — and where having an “edifice complex” is a feature rather than a bug — losing the Louvre project could sting.

Raising the hundreds of millions of euros needed to pay for it will be a stretch, critics said. The museum recently postponed a meeting to choose the winner of an architectural competition for the project.

Several experts said that Mr. Macron may have to make do with a cheaper, more utilitarian renovation of the ancient building’s corroded pipes and weakened structural beams. Though still costly, the Louvre could finance that lesser sum with the fees it generates from licensing its brand to a Louvre outpost in Abu Dhabi, the capital of the United Arab Emirates.

— Mark Landler, The New York Times

It’s an unfortunate but not altogether unexpected outcome for Des Cars who, while a divisive figure, has been recognized as a brilliant heritage curator. It’s also unfortunate for art lovers who find one of the world’s most important and spectacular museums weighed down by wear and controversy.

The news relates to a conversation I had with the French art historian and culture journalist Maïa Morgensztern on my podcast this week. What does the Paris art scene do right? How has it changed since Brexit shifted attention and investment? And how does the art scene in London, where she is based, differ structurally? Since we recorded before the latest Louvre ordeal, I asked her for comment, here:

“The Louvre is a state museum, and this departure is certainly a desire for renewal, but above all a strong political gesture. Laurence des Cars had already raised the alarm about these issues, but she was somewhat caught between the unions and the resources provided by the state. This brings us back to the debate about whether it is better to be managed with public or private money, which do not have exactly the same missions or priorities.”

Listen to our conversation below!

Ps. Security must really still be an issue at the Louvre if activists could hang this arrest photo of ex Prince Andrew.
+ For more Louvre drama, check out this piece from Millefeuille.

Thanks for reading! If you think a friend would enjoy The New Paris Dispatch or this series, gift subscriptions are available here | Order copies of my books The New Paris, The New Parisienne, and The Eater Guide to Paris.

So where do you go when the craving strikes on any day of the year? I have my favorites but I wanted to hear from author Aleksandra Crapanzano whose illustrated recipe book Chocolat: Parisian Desserts and Other Delights, a follow-up to Gâteau, is an ode to the seductive and always delicious world of chocolate. Here, she shares five of her favorite stops (a non-exhaustive list!) and, most importantly, why she thinks they’re worth your euros.

For the aficionado

Jade Genin
33 Av. de l’Opéra, 75002

While Cédric Grolet may be a media and Instagram darling, it is Jade Genin’s shop just a few steps away from Grolet’s Cédric et la Chocolaterie that will wow adults unimpressed by Grolet’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory-esque extravaganza. Jade is the daughter of Jacques Genin, one of Paris’s most brilliant chocolate makers. (This is to say nothing of his exquisite caramels!) When he told me to go try his daughter’s creations, I thought it was out of paternal pride, but, on his urging, I went, and Jade is indeed a huge talent. Try one of everything. Jade may be young but she is already a master.

Lindsey’s note: the pyramids are her signature item but don’t leave without trying the rochers!

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What else is going on? Read on.

VOTING IN A NEW MAYOR FOR PARIS

Our days with Anne are drawing to a close. No matter who takes over this spring, Mayor Anne Hidalgo’s legacy will be focused on the sweeping urban changes she was able to make over the course of her two terms. Naturally, some of those changes have made her a divisive figure. (See: the profile I wrote in The New Parisienne, pg. 111!) To get a real sense of her accomplishments, it’s best not to speak to anyone who drives a car in Paris (especially those who don’t need to drive here). Some of the data bears out: air pollution in Paris has dropped 50% thanks to its transformation into a cycling city, more green spaces, and adapting to European-wide climate policies.

Anyway, back to the elections: despite taking place in a month, it feels like voters are only now waking up to the fact that a) it’s happening b) it’s important. Election campaigning doesn’t begin a year or more out here as it does in the U.S. which may explain part of the slow rise to action among voters. But it’s worth getting informed and paying attention to what unfolds: this campaign is a testing ground for national political trends ahead of the presidential election in 2027, including debates over housing, security, the future of the city’s green strategy, and, increasingly, foreign interference in local politics.

How does it work? Voting in the municipals is different.
As explained it in this excellent newsletter:

In a country where every citizen gets to vote directly for the president, you’d be forgiven for assuming that the mayor of the capital gets elected in the same way. Bah non ! When Hidalgo steps down in March, her successor will be chosen in a roundabout way that does not involve Parisians having any direct say over who becomes mayor. We’re also using a slightly tweaked voting system this year, so how it’ll all shake out is anyone’s guess. The whole thing is intriguingly unpredictable.

The main thing to understand is that on voting day, you won’t be able to cast a vote for an individual candidate — instead, you’ll be voting for a list. You can’t yet peruse these candidate lists, because would-be local despots have until February 26 to declare that they’re running (if you’re thinking about it, go for it! Shoot for the moon!).

Other election and French politics-related reads:
The battle for Paris: can Rachida Dati fend off scandal to become next mayor? (let’s hope not. The Guardian)
Le Pen stuck on French election sidelines… until July 7 (Politico)
The far right in power always co-opts culture. In France, it’s already begun (Alexander Hurst for The Guardian)

WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO BECOME FRENCH IN 2026?

A lot has changed since I was naturalized in 2014, especially since the start of this year. My friend, France 24 journalist and newly minted French citizen Charli James joined me on the podcast to dig into her experience, the new requirements (which apply to permanent residency and citizenship applications), the political reasons behind these changes, and, of course, their implications. We also discuss George Clooney’s recent naturalization and whether a written test is truly the best way to assess integration and dedication to the country. Listen below!

FORMER FRENCH CULTURE MINISTER TIED TO EPSTEIN

Who else is mentioned in the Epstein Files? The former French culture and education minister, and resigning president of the Institut du Monde Arabe, Jack Lang. Why might you know him? He masterminded everyone’s favorite annual summer solstice bash, Fête de la Musique, in 1982. He also defended the democratization of culture. Certain restaurant owners might know him best for dining and dashing. But now, the world will know him for his suspected involvement in “laundering of tax fraud proceeds.” This in addition to a report in Mediapart about “an offshore fund based in the Virgin Islands and jointly held by Epstein and Lang’s daughter, Caroline Lang.”

You know what’s nice, though? France immediately began investigating. Lang resigned from L’Institut du Monde Arabe in short order.

As for Musk, who appears a zillion times in the Epstein files, too: the Paris offices of X were raided by the Paris prosecutor’s cyber-crime unit last week “as part of an investigation into suspected offences including unlawful data extraction and complicity in the possession of child sexual abuse material (CSAM).” We love to see it. But I also love that Musk whined that it was a political attack to which France’s ministry of foreign affairs account on X replied with the message above. What’s the deal with FrenchResponse? It’s a meme account meant to combat disinformation.

WANT TO LEARN ABOUT WOMEN IN PARIS?

This isn’t so much a story of the moment but a permanent theme I try to explore in my work (more on that coming soon!). I also encourage travelers to engage in experiences that focus especially on women, past and present, who influence culture. Last year, Carrie Angoff launched Elective, a brilliant study-abroad-for-adults venture with courses hosted in several destinations, including Andalusia, Istanbul, and Palermo. But Paris is where the 8-day course centers women revolutionaries, artists, and intellectuals who have shaped Paris. Cécile Balavoine, a novelist and literary scholar who teaches French literature at Columbia in Paris (at Reid Hall), leads the week with expert-led discussions, site visits, and a variety of immersive experiences (and bonus activities!). There are still a few spots left for the April session and you can get 5% off the week by using my code PARIS26. Get more details here!

ELSEWHERE

• I was interviewed on two great podcasts recently, should you be interested: talking about finding my voice with on GenerateHer; discussing being a longtime resident and watching the city I love change on Clashists.

• The definitive essay on the Parisian domestic nuisance: calcaire.

  ( for Monocle)

• French government officials stopped using American-owned tech.
  Is it realistic to ditch it all Europe-wide? (Politico)

• A man died in police custody in Paris. Why aren’t we more outraged? ()

• What’s in a shirt? The Cult of Charvet (The New York Times)

• How I sabotaged my career when I moved to Paris (Franchement)

OVERHEARD IN

“Ce n’est pas que ce bus qui est sale; tout est sale dans le monde.”
(It’s not only this bus that’s dirty; everything in the world is dirty)
”C’est ça!”
(That’s right!)

Two strangers lamenting the state of the 96 bus and so much more, February 6.

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The first Leaving America conversation of 2026 comes after a whirlwind of destabilizing and violent events in the first weeks of the year, reigniting the discussion online of do we or don’t we leave if we can. I am in the midst of closing a long, reported essay for The Bitter Southerner (coming out in March!) around the broader theme of leaving —what it means, why Americans have always done so, and how it feels in this particular moment—so the arguments for and against leaving are fresh. This series, as you've seen, doesn’t merely address the geopolitical motivations that have prompted Americans to leave, although that does play a role, and I intend to continue highlighting the diversity of reasons pushing people abroad because, ultimately, it presents a realistic picture of the American diaspora. However, I have included relevant, recent articles at the end of this newsletter that speak to the urgency of this particular moment.

What I appreciated about Drew Lombardi, today’s interview, from our emailing about this series was his honesty about how challenging the last eight years have been for him in Paris. As he put it, his story has not been one of ‘moved to Paris and lived happily ever after’. “It has been excruciating at points —the place has made me feel angry and dejected countless times.” His story isn’t uncommon, yet as we’ve seen, it’s the embellished stories that gloss over reality that get the most traction online. As you’ll see below, he’s honest about the economic, social and linguistic struggles, about the slow path to adapting, and to quote queen Rihanna, about finding love in a hopeless place.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
New York City. I left in 2017.

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
Temporary. The first week I was in Paris, I asked someone on the street for directions in broken French. The woman turned out to be American and we chatted for a minute. I told her my plan was to get my master’s degree and return to New York immediately after to resume my career path there. She said that had been her plan too, but that was 20 years ago. She predicted the same would happen to me, and so far, she was right.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
In April 2016, I blew out my knee in a freak accident playing basketball, tearing multiple ligaments and cracking my femur. I was on the couch 24/7 for the entire summer with nothing to do but think about life and follow the presidential campaign. I used the time to research master’s degrees in Europe in my field of urban policy, taught in English. My life in New York was fine, but I always had dreams of returning to Europe since my semester abroad in Prague in 2011, and I had nothing tying me down. The night Trump won clinched it. I declared that night, somewhat inebriated in the saddest bar in Brooklyn, that I was moving to Paris.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
Money was a huge struggle for me at first, especially as a guy in his mid-20s who got used to a steady income while working in New York and had been reverted to student status. I grossly underestimated how much money I’d need – partly due to long delays in receiving my student loans thanks to the notoriously challenging task of opening a French bank account as a foreigner.

I recommend having at least $3-5K saved because emergencies and obstacles will come up and mistakes will be made. I learned the hard way that money in Europe is simply not as ‘liquid’ as in the US. Finding a job and getting paid can take a while. Americans probably would not believe my stories about how hard it is to open a bank account here, or how hard it can be to access your own money stored in a bank here due to regulations. These rules are in many ways very good, coming with more consumer protections than in the US, but it can be frustrating if you’re unaware of them.

Eating on a shoestring budget was not an issue, and getting around Paris can be done cheaply since it is so walkable. My Achilles heel was housing. I started looking for housing options online even before I left New York, and yet I spent my first semester moving into (and then quickly out of) terrible, overpriced chambres de bonnes and couchsurfing. There was one point I seriously considered sleeping in the metro station close to school while I fought to open a bank account where my student loans could finally land.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I left New York at age 26. In a cosmic sense, I don’t believe in too early or too late – I think things happen when we’re ready and the universe is ready. But practically speaking, I found out once I arrived that you are entitled to a whole slew of student discounts including for museums, public transport, and more I’m sure—up until 26. if I had arrived a year earlier, I may have been able to scrimp more savings while enjoying life around town that first year.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
My relationship with Paris and France has been complicated. The first few years I wondered consistently whether I had made a huge mistake and thrown away a decent situation in New York. I was as broke at the time I finished my master’s degree at age 28 as I was when I finished my bachelor’s at age 22, and there was this creeping fear I had gone backwards. I came to Paris speaking virtually no French, and it turns out I am a slow study with languages, so integration has been a struggle. My master’s was so intense that there was little time for the cliched ‘flemmarding’ in cafes and bars that I thought I’d be doing most of the time.

I found a job after graduating in 2019 but went through a breakup during Covid and seriously considered leaving. But I had fought so hard through the difficult times that I felt I wanted to give Paris a chance with some money in my pocket post-pandemic, and try to establish my own relationship with it independent from my ex.

I knew I made the right call when I met my now wife through a mutual friend. We spent all summer of 2022 (the first time that things felt truly back to normal) exploring the city, taking day trips on our bikes, picnicking late into the night. That summer was magical, and it was worth the wait.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
Once in a while, my mom will ask me when I will move back. I tell her that I’ll consider it once the U.S. has universal healthcare, reasonable college tuition, a strict ban on guns that eliminates mass shootings, and quality public transport. So, likely not any time soon, although I hope to be wrong.

Paris is walkable. It has an unparalleled density of cultural programming and activity. I’ve lived here 8 years now and every weekend that I go wandering in the streets I stumble on a shop, restaurant, square, or park I never knew existed.

It’s also within a short trip to hundreds of amazing places in Europe that are all unique. When I picture moving back to the U.S. and trying to plan a vacation to Europe with 10-15 vacation days a year (compared to 30 now) and an overnight flight (compared to a 2-hour flight or train ride), I can’t stomach it.

I love New York. I was not in a bubble in New York—I studied there and worked in local government there and was really in the trenches of the city. I don’t regret a second I spent there and I refuse to compare them outright. But there is something about the energy, intellectual stimulation, social programs, and location of Paris that is unrivaled.

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
Let’s start low and finish high.

A real low point was when I tried to move all my earthly possessions from my friend’s house in the 19^th to my new apartment in Boulogne by public transit, since I couldn’t afford an Uber. I was lugging two suitcases, a duffel bag and a trash bag of clothes, riding one tram to the terminus and transferring to the next, trying to make it all the way around the edge of the city. The trash bag burst while on the second tram and my stuff scattered all over the ground. I wanted to just take my other bags and go right to the airport and fly home.

The only thing lower than that was celebrating my 30^th birthday during Covid lockdown in my friend’s apartment where I was crashing a week after breaking up with my ex.

But there is only one obvious high point: marrying my wife in the Mairie du 19^eme. It felt like the culmination of all my time here. When I proposed to my wife I told her that I was grateful for everything I had been through, because it had led me to her. I am so lucky to have met her and it meant everything to celebrate it in the neighborhood that (eventually) became my home. We only invited immediate family and mine had never visited me in Paris, so we spent the week showing them all that Paris (and our neighborhood) has to offer. Long before we were together, I always loved walking up to that Mairie, and Les Buttes Chaumont is easily my favorite park in Paris. I visit a few times a week, and it was a truly incredible thing to take our wedding photos there together with our families.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
Being from New England, I am an avid Boston sports fan, and I really miss connecting with my family, friends, and strangers over American sports. When Europeans try to make conversation with me about sports and I confess I don’t follow football (soccer) too closely, they always ask me, “Oh, you don’t like sports?” I love sports, my family is obsessed with sports, but I just have not succeeded in getting into soccer so far.

Watching games on replay in the morning when everyone back home is sleeping, avoiding text threads so the results don’t get spoiled for me, is hard. Missing the Celtics parade in Boston when they won the NBA championship in 2024 and everyone I know being there but me was... alot. The idea that my kid may not grow up playing baseball (which has little to no traction in Europe compared to basketball) bothers me.

I also really miss greasy spoon diners.

What book or movie do you most associate with the American experience abroad?
The Before series (Before Midnight, Before Sunrise, Before Sunset), directed by Richard Linklater, really moved me and made me fantasize about moving to Paris before I got here. I think it captures the romance – not just between men and women, but the romanticism – of drifting along in Paris, untethered from the work- and outcome-obsessed American mindset and letting life flow.

If you had to narrow it down to one, what is the greatest lesson living abroad has taught you about yourself and the world?
Whether it was finding an apartment, getting a job, or learning French, I learned that anything is possible if you don’t give up. I’m sorry to sound cliché but that’s exactly what I learned. If you hang in there, eventually you’ll catch a break. Someone once told me “don’t quit before the miracle happens.” There were many points (see above) where giving up on my effort to make it here would have been perfectly rational. But now, when I successfully deliver a professional presentation in French and think nothing of it, I have to take a second to be like, Holy shit, remember how you once found it impossible to order a croissant in French?

About the world: honestly the greatest lesson I learned about the world is that America is not #1 at anything except gun violence, obesity, and economic inequality among OECD countries. I have been humbled as an American over and over during my time abroad because of a set of preconceived notions and assumptions that nearly all Americans have hardwired into them. I have learned to respect the aptitude, history, culture, and perspective of people from other countries in a way I don’t think is truly possible until living abroad. I think many Americans believe they respect the rest of the world, but once you live in another country (which also thinks highly of itself), you realize how much unconscious bias you have.

Have you ever considered going back? (Why or why not)
I miss my family. I consider going back to be closer to my parents, my brother, and my nephews. Missing Thanksgiving is really hard, because unlike Christmas, it is uniquely American. I miss watching sports live with my family, yelling at the TV together in the same room.

Family is very important to me and it is painful for me to live so far away from them and see them so little. But so far, I’d like to think I’ve done well at going home for extended periods and making my time with them count. If I am able to continue to go home for a few weeks at a time and spend quality time with them while living here, I will continue to do so.

For those contemplating leaving the U.S., what do you suggest they consider most about the decision?
This is not Emily in Paris! Especially if you move to Paris. I can’t vouch for moving to other big cities or other countries, but for me, Paris felt like playing study abroad on expert mode. Are you OK with struggling to communicate, being broke, being confused and lonely, most of the time and for a while? Are you OK with forfeiting the progress you’ve made in your career in the U.S. so far, knowing that relocating here would likely require a lateral move or even a step back? Are you OK with being at a linguistic disadvantage in virtually every conversation you have? Are you really OK with adapting to a new way of life—a new speed at work, on sidewalks, at restaurants —or are you looking for American life and American culture set against the backdrop of Paris? When you are on your deathbed, are you going to regret not having at least tried it? That’s how I decided. I pictured myself on my deathbed, thinking about how I never lived outside of the country, and it made me sick to my stomach.

And most importantly, are you willing to watch your favorite team on tape delay?

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ADDITIONAL READING

Some US citizens, grappling with issues from LGBTQ+ rights to the economy, are looking to the countries their families once left behind (The Guardian)

In the wake of President Trump’s reelection, the number of aggrieved Americans seeking a new life abroad appears to be rising. The Netherlands offers one way out. (The New Yorker)

Fear, abuse and eroding rights have forced many trans people to leave the US – can they claim asylum in the Netherlands? (The Guardian)

When is it time to flee? (The New Republic)

Click here to read all previous Leaving America questionnaires. If you think a friend would enjoy The New Paris Dispatch, gift subscriptions are available here.

In my last update, I wrote about going to see Sofiane Pamart perform. What I didn’t mention is that it was at the Opéra Garnier, one night only. And it was incredible. When I talked about using music, among other techniques, to calm the nervous system, I couldn’t have imagined a better-timed opportunity to put it into action. His music is currently on repeat in our apartment.

The Opéra Garnier and Bastille are marquee spots to see dance and opera (Sofiane’s performance was a rarity!) and are among the most important venues for visitors looking to connect with the arts in Paris. But there are thousands, in fact, of spaces to do so all over the city. You know the greatest hits by now but there are other, smaller or less frequented spots that you learn about when you live here or you keep returning. Here are a few examples to put on your radar.

Out of the Blue Paris
This is an awesome idea that surely exists in other cities but I believe it’s the first of its kind on this scale in Paris. The owner, Chloé Bourgès, an independent filmmaker and director, opened the micro-cinema-bar to show short films and movies she loves. Natural wine upstairs, private movie theatre down below. The selection of short films rotates monthly (and has included works by David Lynch and Werner Herzog) and on the last Sunday of each month, she screens a feature film. You pay for your drink and snacks but not for access to the screenings. Best part: she sources her cheese selection from Source fromagerie and wine cellar.

9 rue Saint-Maur 75011, Paris
Open Thursday-Sunday

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I didn’t intend to wait until mid January to write again but I’ve felt paralysed. How could I possibly write and publish anything on my personal platforms that isn’t somehow in response to what so many of us knew would happen but are nonetheless stunned it has come to fruition as swiftly and violently as it has? It’s been a lot to process.

I’ve leaned heavily on historians and brilliant thinkers, like Tressie Mcmillan Cottom, Timothy Snyder, . I’ve felt the power of this essay in particular from Taylor, and the reliable clarity of thought and careful words from historian and prolific chronicler of democracy and its downward spiral —vital in a sea of hot takes and quickfire analysis that don’t come close to matching the moment. I admit it’s taken me time to come around to truly believing her words from nearly a year ago:

“Authoritarians cannot rise if there are strong communities and people are acting with joy. That is, you need despair and anger in order for an authoritarian to rise. Whatever those things are that you bring to the community, do them and do them with joy, and don’t stop doing the things you love because you’re scared, because that actually is a form of resistance.”

She employed the word fascism this week to, adequately, describe the ideology governing the U.S. Which means, authoritarians have risen. But the joy she speaks of is crucial to taking action now, too. It’s too much to expect it to be sustained given the uncertainty we’re in— we because those of us in Europe are bracing for a future that may involve military intervention to protect Greenland1 (how is this real), the end of NATO, and a world order that is being upended and rewritten, and because most Americans who are physically abroad haven’t severed ties with their homeland—but if the last two weeks have taught me anything it’s that I will not be much of a fighter if my fight or flight response is activated all hours of the day. This is why Audre Lorde wrote at length about the power of joy to fuel action and to resist the oppressive forces at work.

Some of the techniques for triggering your vagus nerve, which lowers anxiety and quiets the fight or flight response, are as simple as taking a walk. Humming. Singing. Dancing or exercise. Deep breathing. Writing in a journal. Apparently, lateral eye movements and eye circles are helpful, too.

And where possible, allowing yourself to feel wonder.

“A growing body of evidence demonstrates that the experience of awe that visual arts can trigger has mental and physical health benefits for us. They are similar to the restorative effects produced by awe-inspiring natural settings, such as a mountain vista or open sea, but we can access them more easily. The best part is you don’t need to know anything about the art you are looking at.” (Washington Post)

Sounds like a no-brainer, right? And yet, if you’re like me, you may feel a certain way about allowing that joy and awe in right now, because it means momentarily putting aside the polycrisis. But we physically, mentally, and spiritually can’t live in a permanent horror loop, even if we mistakenly believe it’s a sign of remaining active and informed. I say this as someone who has resorted to some pep talks with herself in the last two weeks. It’s why I’ve made a pointed effort to reset and calm my nervous system, in little moments. Maybe some of these ideas will help you, too.

A SONG TO LISTEN TO

I’m soon seeing Sofiane Pamart perform live and have been putting his music on repeat in anticipation. A French-Moroccan piano virtuoso whose parents discovered he had a gift at age four, entered a music conservatory by age six, and has performed as an adult to a sold-out Accor Arena and on the Seine at the Olympics (you might remember his piano was on fire) straddles genres and styles. Here’s a video he released one year ago that I have found particularly moving.

TWO EXHIBITIONS TO SEE

The Berthe Weill show at L’Orangerie closes January 26 and it was one of the most important and beautiful shows I saw in the last year. I hope you can all get to see it before it leaves but if not, and you’re interested in learning about the pioneering art dealer who propelled Picasso’s career, check out this interview I did with the show’s co-curator, Lynn Gumpert:

The other exhibition (photos above) will bring you to Le Grand Palais to see Eva Jospin’s monumental grottos and forests, made entirely of cardboard, and Claire Tabouret’s preparatory work, sketches, and models for the six stained glass windows she designed for Notre Dame Cathedral, which will be installed by the end of 2026.

SOMETHING SWEET (AND BEAUTIFUL) TO EAT

Galette season is here, another opportunity for the city’s most talented pastry chefs and bakers to wow us. The above array was part of a group taste test / therapy session with a few friends (and also for a related story that will come out in a year!), organized at just the right time. We were all feeling fragile. Not only were they each exquisite to look at (particularly the one from Nina Métayer, shown above, an upside down version topped with verbena and lemon confit-infused frangipane and topped with delicate tuile), they were a masterclass in galette flavor, originality, and texture. My favorite of the bunch was the sobacha galette from Christophe Louie, shown bottom right as a slice with its Madeleine fève. Pistachio galette, also wonderful, from Ginko.

SOMETHING COMFORTING TO EAT

Ramen Wagaya took over a crêperie and has had a line out front since day one. The good news is that if you’re keen on an early early dinner, they open at 18:00. We got there five minutes before opening on Friday night and were home for a ginger tea before 19:00. It reminded me of Tokyo in the best of ways. The French-Japanese couple started with a traveling pop-up, The Ramen Project, before settling here and continue the same approach: homemade broth and noodles prepared daily on site. I also tried the maze tantanmen, sans broth, which combines noodles, peanuts, and minced pork, and finished with a plump red bean mochi. It was a warm hug.

SOMEPLACE TO EAT AND LISTEN TO GOOD MUSIC

There are listening bars and then there is the new restaurant from chef Masahide Ikuta. At Masa (restaurant Masaikuta), you can drink wonderful wines, eat beautiful food (tasting menu or à la carte options), and listen to his and sommelier Tom Faucoeur’s personal collection of vinyl records. I heard everything from Sade to Tatsuro Yamashita and Coltrane and, once again, felt transported. Music, I think, is going to need to play a big role in my personal stress-management program this year.

SOMETHING TO MAKE YOU LAUGH

Well, I don’t know if it will make you laugh but it sure made me laugh. An ad for diapers with the tagline, “absorbs the most monstrous things”. Also, this video spoofing an interview Macron was giving a few weeks ago (on live TV, it was real!). I’ve watched it ten times and lose it every time. The kicker: “Can we just have something that functions?”

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I’ve also asked a few smart pals for their thoughts, which you’ll find below. Ready for 2026?

👍 More road etiquette. If I stopped cycling on the regular it’s because it doesn’t feel so safe out there! I don’t need anything to spike my stress levels so if navigating an intersection becomes a scene from The Hunger Games, I think I’ll stick to public transport and my own two feet. See also: drivers who think they’re in bumper cars and won’t do much damage if they hit a cyclist. More collective responsibility, please!

🚫 Complaining about the bike lanes and pedestrian zones, particularly the ones along the riverbanks. My forever pet peeve. A group of 40-to-60-year-old ladies I take a mat pilates class with (in the 11th arrondissement, mind you, which they access by public transport) were complaining before class recently about the city’s car traffic. “They shouldn’t have made the quais pedestrian, it’s half empty during the week!” they opined. “It should stay open during the week to cars and be reserved for cyclists and pedestrians on the weekend. That Hidalgo did a number on this city, good thing she’s leaving soon.” Because this brief and irritating back-and-forth happened upon my return from Japan, I didn’t start a debate. I was drawing on my newfound reservoir of patience. But if you’re married to your car or the idea of giving priority to cars in these times, you might want to consider moving out of Paris.

👍 More well-crafted, meaningful goods with transparent and ethical supply chains and production volume. By extension, more commercial spaces reserved for shop-owners committed to producing or selling such wares. It is a choice to allow brands manufacturing cheap, plastic goods to take up space in a city once reserved for artisans.

🚫 Slapping Maison onto a brand or company name to confer an air of prestige or luxury. When everything is Maison whatchamacallit, the word means nothing.

👍 More independent restaurants and shops built on quality and strong ideas. This also means more bank loans and customer support for such endeavors.

🚫 “Concepts”. I received a press release the other day for a make-your-own crumble shop in the 9th arrondissement. Le concept (the owner’s words, not mine): You choose your fruit, the crumbly bits go next, and then you can add any number of toppings and sauces. I wager this will fizzle within a year, like the avo-toast cafés. Very few single-product shops have staying power (Popelini is the rare exception). I’d also love to see more intelligent use of the word concept. It should not, for example, be used to refer to shops or restaurants whose ambitions are not to become full-fledged brands or chains. As a very talented chef told me when I dined at his first solo restaurant before the holidays, “we are a restaurant. There is no concept. I cook. But French journalists want to know what our concept is! Help!”

@willemfaitlecomique

Willem on Instagram: "Quand tu vas dans un coffee shop à Paris …

Related: I’d love to see the proliferation of extremely mediocre coffee shops, with flavored drinks and interiors pulled from Pinterest, reigned in. The whole point of the specialty coffee movement was to emphasize fair-trade sourcing and quality from farm to cup. The majority of new spots conveniently disregard this, surfing instead on a successful format rather than upholding a commitment to quality. And my personal gripe: UHT (shelf-stable) milk. I understand the financial benefit of using it (and if the bulk of your business is black coffee /pour-overs, fine) but it tastes terrible and has an awful texture which, in turn, takes away from the flavor and complexity of the coffee . (Want my recommendations, updated regularly? Get my digital guide!)

👍 More in-person events, opportunities to gather, engage, discuss and disentangle ourselves from our screens. In my ideal world, this involves books. And it just so happens…

I’ve got one such opportunity in the works outside of Paris!
Women in (and on) Provence with me at La Gonette
Retreat dates: September 28 to October 04, 2026
One of the highlights of my year was the inspiring, delicious, and intellectually stimulating week at La Gonette with literary sessions led by Michael Cunningham (and getting to spend time with and learn from among other brilliant minds!). I am over the moon to work with the novelist Alice Nelson, who took over this incredible spot on the edge of the Luberon, to put together a literary and culinary week in early autumn.

The week will be centered around the theme of Women in (and on) Provence —talking about Provence as a muse, exploring why it has endured this way for generations of women and what that looks like for women today. A week of reading, storytelling, food and craft. We’ll be discussing writers like Diana Henry, M.K. Fisher, Julia Child, and meeting local artists, producers and restaurateurs. More information to follow, applications opening: February 2026

🚫 Attending events, meetings or parties when you’re sick enough to be at home in bed. Sniffle? Fine. Coughing incessantly, blowing nose, low-grade fever? Stay home. Time to remove all need for greetings like, “j’ai la crève, je ne te fais pas la bise1.”

Christine Doublet, co-director of Le Fooding, writer of

⁠👍 More places where “everybody knows your name”. I’m dreaming of the Parisian equivalent to the restaurant below me in New York, where I am right now. The food is not the best in the city, but it’s reliable and tasty enough, there are large cozy booths and seats at the bar and they make a mean martini. More importantly, it’s a neighborhood café, no one is trekking across the city to get there. You run into the same people you see at your local park, your local greengrocer, your local subway stop. Less destination dining, more comfort dining!

🚫 Running to your assigned seat. It makes me completely insane that at train stations in Paris people will full on sprint to their seat. I can only assume it’s to get the best spot for their suitcase. Traveling with French people2 in general is very frustrating, as they have very little regard for anyone else’s situation but their own (see: people watching videos without headphones/Facetiming without headphones/taking the window seat and falling asleep and then being offended if you ask them to move/standing up and getting ready to get off the train twenty minutes before arrival, disrupting the natural flow of front to back exiting… I could go on).

Shelby Chambers,

👍 What my heart really wants more of for Paris in 2026 is consideration for others. Make space for people getting on the metro, give your spot up to a mom with her arms full, clean up after your pet, brake for piétons. But if that’s too much to ask, I’d love more big interesting salads with lots of grain and veggie and protein options, all for a reasonable price.

🚫 Fewer establishments that market with content bait. Mirrors outside restaurants, the faux flower façades, trendy fonts without any substance inside. Maybe also fewer patrons who are there for content, too.

25% off annual subscriptions!

Phineas Rueckert, journalist,

👍 This might be an unpopular opinion because of [construction, noise, inconvenience, insert other complaint here], but Paris still needs more bike lanes. More bike lanes! Wider bike lanes! Protected bike lanes! It might seem like we’ve come a long way, and we have, but large, mostly western swaths of the Paris capital (cough cough neighborhoods where Rachida Dati has been mayor) remain very car-forward.

🚫 Fewer people sleeping rough. Every French president since Sarkozy has said he’d end homelessness yet this number has only increased. Since the beginning of Macron’s second mandate, the number of people experiencing homelessness has increased by 25%3. Will a left-wing coalition led by Emmanuel Grégoire requisition unused homes to address this problem head on? Keep your eyes out as activist groups like Le Revers (a new collective with a unique and fresh voice) try to bring this issue to the center of the upcoming municipal elections.

Jane Bertch,

👍 More centers where entrepreneurs can come together—places where we can work side by side, connect, share ideas, and truly expand one another. In that same vein, I’d love to see a cozy version of a ‘day bar’ (similar to a co-working coffee spot, but a place that serves wine and opens early. If Cambridge Public House opened a few hours earlier, it would be perfect). Lunch has become the new dinner for me, so a place to slip into mid-afternoon, enjoy a glass of wine, and have a deep, meaningful conversation with someone in my community would be a lovely thing.

🚫 I’ll echo Lindsey’s point here: I’d like fewer cookie-cutter coffee shops, all doing something very similar. It feels like we’ve reached a point of oversaturation.

Emily Monaco, Emily in France and The Fishwives of Paris

👍 More transformative green spaces. I love my neighborhood in the 10th, between the Canal and the Gare de l'Est, even more since a small side road was transformed into a pretty, tree-lined square, and I was thrilled with how the newly green parvis in front of Hôtel de Ville turned out. Paris has been known for its parks since Haussmann’s renovation, but adding even more quiet havens is making the city even more pleasant to live in.

🚫 Massive tourism companies buying up reservations at must-visit museums and monuments like the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower, making it nearly impossible for individuals and families to visit them without planning months in advance.

🚫 Storefronts permanently dedicated to pop-ups to the detriment of small businesses catering to locals. (Luckily, the city of Paris has already taken steps to grant my wish!)

Elaine Huntzinger, facialist, acupuncturist, writer of Saving Face!

👍 More foreigners (living in Paris) learning French rather than assuming everyone speaks English.

👍 More money spent on the upkeep of parks and roads.

👍 More availability of affordable organic/locally-sourced products

🚫 Fewer matcha/viral cafés, more cafés with better customer service rather than focusing on being viral!

🚫 Less violence— micro-conflicts among strangers on the streets and yelling, specifically. More smiles and eye contact!

Ajiri Aki, author of Joie and writer of

👍 More keeping Paris, Paris: marrying the past and present with taste, not gimmicks

👍 More people moving here to actually learn French and fall in love with French culture

🚫 In turn, fewer people moving here purely to monetize “Paris” as social media content

👍 More saying, “I love this!” when you mean it

🚫 Less of the eternal pas mal + faux nonchalance

👍 More of the art of the long Sunday lunch at home, like Paris used to do so well with les recettes de grand-mère, good wine, mixed generations, and zero rush

🚫 Less paying for hype restaurants where the interiors and PR outshine the food

AMEN.

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For the last edition of this series for 2025 (more than a year after I started it!), I’m thrilled to speak with Farah Alimi. The Damascus-born, Paris-based artist ultimately left the United States for a reason that hasn’t yet been discussed here: to inch closer to her homeland. I first met Farah at Sobremesa, a wonderful wine bar in the 18th arrondissement that has regularly hosted her friend Shan Rachel Jiang as a chef in residence. Then, I kept running into her at Paramaz, a leather goods workshop-coffee shop-boutique we both love. Today, she joins me here to offer her story of leaving the U.S.

Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
Greenpoint, New York

Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
I always knew, deep down, that New York was never meant to be my final destination. As painful as it was to leave, I understood when the moment arrived that it was time. The decision didn’t come all at once. I needed to test the waters first, to breathe somewhere new. Marseille was that threshold. I had visited the south once before, and my last stop was Marseille. The moment I stepped into its streets, tears slid down my cheeks, it was an indescribable feeling, as though I were visiting Damascus. I felt at home. The chaos, the humbleness of the city, it all resonated with me. I fell in love right then and there and promised myself I would return and stay for a while.

At the time, in 2016, Damascus, like the rest of Syria, was in a heartbreakingly fragile state, so the closest and most familiar city for me was Marseille. I was grateful to have found such a place. It felt like a gift, a moment that taught me patience and prepared me for the time I would eventually return to my birth city. Even now, I can still feel the quiet weight of that experience and how profoundly it shaped me. I knew I had to be in the south before making my way to Paris, to inch closer to home. That, more than anything else, was the reason.

Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
Yes, absolutely. I needed to live, to truly enjoy my time, instead of constantly working and hustling while life rushed past me. I was craving a life of quality. I didn’t fully know what I was stepping into then, but I chose to go for it anyway.

What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even if as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
I was privileged to have had steady work that allowed me to save a solid amount of money before making my big move. Before fully committing to the decision, I took two important steps. I spent three months in Marseille during the holidays, from Thanksgiving through mid-January, to see if I was strong enough to handle being completely on my own, without family. I also took time to understand the financial reality of Europe, which was, and still is very different from New York. In many ways, life here is far more affordable.

Prior to COVID, I began working in wardrobe for film and television productions in Marseille, primarily on American projects. I continued working in wardrobe there until late 2021, after leaving fashion and New York behind, when I was still figuring out my direction. What eventually brought me to Paris was a job—ironically, a show that somehow connected back to fashion: The New Look, about Christian Dior, Coco Chanel, and Dior’s sister Catherine, a resistance fighter. I owe so much to Allyx Seaman, Thomas McCarthy, Rae Baron, and Karen Miller Serreau, whose guidance and support helped make a career like this possible for me.

At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I left at 27, nearly nine years ago. It was the right time to make the move, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I’m truly thankful.

When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
Despite missing my family and friends, and despite how difficult the first two years were, I quickly realized it was the right call. I was learning a new language, discovering a new culture, and living in an almost 40m² apartment with rent so low it would be impossible in the States, all just a short walk from the Mediterranean. Even then, I was a happy camper, always grateful. And of course, moving to Paris after four years was the cherry on top. I moved for work, and I couldn’t have been happier to start a new chapter in a city I had always imagined would be a part of my life. Funny how life works.

What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
I was just thinking about this a few weeks ago. Paris is charming in many ways, but one charm I especially appreciate is how, no matter how fast-paced the city can feel, it always makes time to pause and relax. It nudges you to slow down and savor life. At first, I found it a bit strange, like the unhurried pace at restaurants, but then I realized it was for my own good. Another thing I love is the accessibility of fresh produce and healthcare.

Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
It’s hard to pick just one highest or lowest moment, so here’s a glimpse of a few that stand out. One of my highest moments was having my art show, Before and After Damascus, this past April with Atelier 505. It came shortly after a trip to Damascus, my first in twenty years, which may very well be another high point in itself.

Another incredible high point was collaborating with PARAMAZ, painting directly on their leather. It was such a meaningful moment to work with a brand that shares the same values of traditional craftsmanship, offering their leather for me to paint on, and eventually to have those pieces incorporated into their gorgeous bags. That opportunity was both humbling and inspiring, and it remains one of my proudest achievements.

I’ve also had two particularly low moments. The first was when there was an issue with my carte de séjour during the renewal process. I couldn’t leave the country for months, and after a long period of uncertainty and back-and-forth, I finally received it for ten years, which, of course, became another high point. The second low moment came in Paris, when I struggled to find an apartment. It was an incredibly challenging time, but with the help of friends, I eventually found a solution that worked.

Are there aspects of American life that you long for?

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I don’t know how many Americ…

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I really enjoyed the David Hockney exhibition at the Fondation Louis Vuitton this summer. I loved the Berthe Weill: Galeriste d’avant-garde show at the Musée de l’Orangerie.

I didn’t know who Berthe Weill was, much like the late American gallerist Julie Saul when she came across the name B.Weill, the French Jewish gallerist and dealer of emerging artists, while reading Making Modernism: Picasso and the Creation of the Market for Twentieth Century Art by Michael C. Fitzgerald, released in 1995. The era’s most remembered dealers, like Ambroise Vollard, Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler and Paul Rosenberg, were familiar to her but Weill? Was this yet another forgotten woman of history?

Absolutely, as Saul would discover in Weill’s self-published memoir Pan! Dans l’oeil (POW! Right in the Eye!) which she tracked down at MoMA’s PS1 library.

Weill’s pioneering little gallery at 25 rue Victor-Massé in Pigalle (and several other addresses) made history three times: in 1900, she became Picasso’s inaugural dealer and the first to sell his work; fourteen years later, she mounted Diego Rivera’s first one-man exhibition in the French capital; and in 1917, she achieved what no other gallerist did and staged a solo exhibition for Modigliani while he was still alive.

But she was a self-described “terrible businesswoman” who didn’t charge enough for the artists’ work and would later see herself dropped by many of them after nascent success to sign with more established dealers. Born poor, the petite and little-educated woman came up in the art world throughout the Dreyfus affair when antisemitism was mounting, had to close the gallery entirely during the occupation and go into hiding, and ultimately died poor.

Place aux Jeunes (Make way for young people), was the motto she stayed committed to throughout her forty-year career, despite facing the era’s many hurdles and persecutions. She would support nearly 300 artists in her time but never got her dues until Saul sat down with Lynn Gumpert, an American art consultant who retired earlier this year from New York University’s Grey Art Museum where she served as director for 28 years, and plotted a translation for Weill’s memoir. Pow! Right in the Eye was released in 2022 and was followed by an exhibition co-organized by The Grey Art Museum, the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, and the Musée de l’Orangerie, highlighting her legacy through paintings, drawings, prints, and sculptures, some of which were displayed at one point in her gallery, alongside archival documents.

I met Lynn Gumpert by chance at a book signing in early October, then again at a chocolate event at Plaq (only in Paris!) after I saw the show, but finally sat down in her Parisian living room earlier this week to discuss the process of bringing this tremendous exhibition to life.
This conversation has been edited and trimmed for clarity.

This exhibition was essentially a decade in the making. What made it so complex?
It started with Berthe Weill’s memoir which was very complicated to read in French. She had no more than a ten-year-old’s education level and wrote as she spoke. Julie (Saul) and I agreed that it would need to be translated and annotated. We got Robert Parker, a mutual friend who does provenance research, on board and then discussed translation. Straight away I told her it sounded like this should be an exhibition, too. We got a grant to conduct initial research and start mounting the exhibition, also with the help of Marianne Le Morvan, who is the guest curator for the show at L’Orangerie—she has written two biographies on Berthe Weill and created the Berthe Weill archives. But then we needed museum partners.

You mentioned to me that conversations had begun early on with Laurence des Cars, currently director of the Louvre, when she was still overseeing L’Orangerie. She was interested in the show. What happened?

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Some people have a book-buying addiction (c’est moi, hi!), some are fashion-obsessed, and others go nuts for home goods, kitchen trinkets, and decor. I’m not even going to begin to tackle the more niche fascinations like stickers, beanies, concert tees, and cat and dog memorabilia, all of which I find intriguing from a collecting point…

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One path to living abr…

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