So, Parisians love to exercise now

A conversation about what's behind the fitness boom with fashion journalist and professor Mélody Thomas

I’ve written at length about how Paris dining and café culture have evolved and how radically Hidalgo has transformed the city’s very infrastructure. But there’s something else I’ve wanted to unpack here: fitness culture.

Photo by Dmitrii E. on Unsplash

When I arrived in 2006, public displays of physical exertion were maligned, as was wearing anything resembling sportswear. Wear sneakers, spandex, and an oversized sweatshirt outside of the home, even if to walk to the gym 100 meters away? Blasphemous. For years, I was a member at Club Med Gym at République and watched men run on treadmills in Converse sneakers and women who lived mere blocks away arrive in the locker room in full makeup, spend ninety minutes on the elliptical in lacy bras and slow-drying fabrics, and leave after slathering themselves in anti-cellulite cream. A French friend at the time insisted that performative workout culture was “so American”. Any Parisians exercising in public were the exception—serious athletes, a category unto themselves.

That was twenty years ago. Now, nearly everyone is wearing sharp-looking trainers everywhere from work to dinner parties. Parisians run all-terrain and cycle religiously. The week of snow we had in January? They were out trudging through it in shorts. The Seine flooding a couple of months ago barely slowed anyone down. Among the other things that have noticeably changed: Women are (finally) weight-training. Some have joined the cult of Pilates; others swear by thrice-weekly ninety-minute sessions at Jivamukti on the Canal. Hoka, the Annecy-born brand now hosting running clubs, pop-ups across the city, and even its own half marathon, has become the Veja of the running world.

If you come to Paris regularly, you’ve surely seen this shift. And the data backs it up: according to a health and sport report published by Ipsos in January, the time spent on fitness has doubled in ten years, with 72% of French people engaging in some form of physical activity, a record high outside of Covid lockdown periods. The benefits to our overall health and wellbeing are well known and documented, so what else has driven the about-face? I went straight to my friend Mélody Thomas, a brilliant fashion journalist, author and professor whose work digs into the social and cultural underpinnings of what we wear, how we wear it, and who produces it, to discuss.

Mélody Thomas. Photo by Adeline Rapon

L: Mélody, what’s going on here? Paris has always had serious athletes but the idea of exercising and publicly displaying the trappings of sportswear was anathema to Parisianess. Is what we’re seeing the downstream effect of athleisure on the runway or the globalization of wellness culture?
M: I like this question and the fact that it also shows the tension between two types of performance: physical and aesthetic. For the forler, I think COVID lockdowns, where we were kept inside for ages, really changed our understanding of the outdoors. That’s not only true for Paris, of course, but it gave Parisians a sense of what it means to be mobile, outside. Our understanding of the relationship between body and mental health has improved, which is good since burnout is rampant in the city.

At the same time, our understanding of “clubbing” changed. Many nightclubs in Paris have closed and seem to have been replaced by sports clubs. Sports brands like Jah-Jah Studio, Klättermusen, Nike, American Vintage, and La Sportiva began creating their own clubs to foster community, belonging, and wellness. I think Parisian culture really shifted as a result. Added to this is a growing reluctance to drink and smoke: two of the most persistent stereotypes about Parisian culture. All of my friends either stopped drinking or put some “rules” in place to regulate their alcohol consumption. I think Parisians, like the rest of the world, want to try different things. That being said, we, French people, are still lousy regarding rules, so I’m really not able to say if it’s something that will last.

Regarding the visibility of sports, the city also created public spaces dedicated to athletic activities, and we’re now in a street-sports era where men often train in public. This has reignited conversations about the gendering of cities. Not so much in terms of safety, but in terms of who public spaces truly belong to.

As for the runway, I don’t really think it impacted the conversation. Of course, there was the gorpcore¹ conversation around 2017 (almost a decade, damn!), but it was more about aesthetic, which might have encouraged “real” sports brands to insist on the technicity of their products; the real practicality of them.

L: There’s long been a disdain for American-style workout culture and a feeling that nonchalance mattered more than earnest attempts at physical betterment. To what extent did that have to do with the French perception of beauty? What might have influenced this change?

M: I might not make myself many friends, but I think the American social context is more about “false individuality in order to better fit into the collective,” whereas the French social context is almost the opposite. The so-called Parisian aesthetic that has been repackaged and marketed internationally does exist, but it is far from being the only aesthetic expression of people here.

That said, there is still a certain distrust of the whole “beauty” discourse, which many find quite distasteful. We’re proud snobs. French people will still roll their eyes if you talk too long about your athletic performances if you’re not an athlete, which is also because it’s just not that interesting. Personally, having people explain to me how good they feel after their workout or from biking around the city is the conversational equivalent of starting a sentence with, “According to ChatGPT…”.

L: As a writer who tracks fashion and cultural movements, how do you think this wellness craze fits into the broader adoption of American cultural products? (Hoka might be French but its sneakers are loud and colorful.)

M: I believe a practical approach has been taken. Still, I’m uncertain whether this is due to American influence or the increased presence of French cultural references that were previously less recognized. I’m thinking specifically of Moncler (from Grenoble) and Salomon (from Annecy). While I wouldn’t argue that we’re not influenced by American culture, there seems to be a desire among the younger generations to have a cultural discourse connected more to regions throughout the country rather than solely from Paris. There was the whole Vogue Paris/Vogue France drama (in 2021, the magazine changed its name to Vogue France and some Parisians felt their identity was being attacked and endangered by Anna Wintour and, by extension, Americans. I would love for it to be an exaggeration, but it’s not. French culture relies on the idea of being an exception—l’exception culturelle française. But to remind people that France is more than just Paris in terms of culture is important). And there was also the rediscovery of cities like Marseille, Annecy, and regions like the Pays Basque. Keep in mind that a lot of people left Paris during COVID—and came back! Ha! That said, the American market remains significant in the fashion and garment industry, which may help explain some of the color choices and overall aesthetics.

L: The urban infrastructure in Paris has evolved tremendously in the 20 years I’ve lived in Paris. Can this shift really be disconnected from those visible changes? (The bike lanes, the pedestrianized riverbanks, the expanded green spaces…)

M: I think the city adapted to what the people were demanding. Paris is a beautiful city, and even though people were fighting Anne Hidalgo a lot about her decisions, she made it more pleasant for a stroll. I’m the caricature of a French party pooper who hates queuing in front of restaurants and piétiner (shuffling): our city is quite small so we feel the growing number of people.

L: Aside from running outdoors, which doesn’t require a membership, regular routines in Paris come with hefty price tags: pilates studios, Barry’s, boxing… is being sporty now another way to flex privilege?

M: I don’t know if it’s privilege (although we could talk about which bodies are being policed in the streets but it certainly became a status thing, which is the most American thing —or should I say, L.A thing?— about this. People think that their bodies have become a reflection of their mind, of who they are. Personally, I think it’s interesting that we always focus and try to control our bodies when fascism arises. It started with women through Ozempic and the whole “Barbie Trump aesthetic”, and now this. I might be reading too much into it but when you speak to people in France about their relationship to sports, the idea of controlling your body and controlling your mind arises. It’s like the world is crumbling before our eyes, so the last thing left in our control is ourselves. I’m not judging (too much LOL); I understand, in a way, but I’m always cautious about mass trends.

L: If you had to guess, would you say the dressed-down aesthetic in Paris— related or unrelated to this sporty shift — will be enduring?

M: I don’t know. With so much happening locally and geopolitically, it’s difficult to predict what kind of shift might occur. Right now, I’m thinking about the rock-indie sleaze influence that is pervasive in fashion brands. When those eras first emerged, “looking good” meant something different than it does today, and sport wasn’t really part of the equation.

Since then, the rise of sportswear and the experience of Covid-19 has made us used to a certain idea of comfort. I like to say we are at a crossroads, where aesthetics and politics point toward two different futures. On the one hand, there is sport as a release and a source of empowerment, suggesting a lifestyle oriented more toward nature and community. On the other hand, there is sport as a tool for controlling the body and mind, aligning with a rock aesthetic that is fixated on appearance, centered on individuality, and driven by the idea of being better than others rather than being with them. I might be oversimplifying, but I don’t think so.

Read more from me and Mélody: we discussed Empire of the Elite earlier this year (en français). Follow Mélody on Instagram.

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1. The trend of bringing technical, outdoor wear into everyday urban style. The “I look like I’m going to hike a mountain but am actually going to a coffee shop” aesthetic.