Être à la mode n’est pas à la mode; fad-free French life

Snapshot of the concept store ‘Merci’, Le Marais. (All Images belong to Author)

Sartorial savoir-faire constitutes an intrinsic aspect of the French identity; haute-couture, after all,  owes its provenance to a fashion house in the country’s capital, and Paris Fashion Week is the focal point of any designer’s calendar. However, the true essence of French style –a unique timelessness –is located far from the capricious world of high fashion. Rather, it is classic, lasting, pieces and second-hand garments that are the most valuable acquisitions of all. 

A plenitude of vintage shops line the streets of Paris’s chicest shopping district, Le marais, with offerings ranging from well-curated, aesthetically pleasing edits, to five euro clothing bins in chaotic (frankly, stress-inducing) disarray. However, though these shopping experiences may be diametrically opposed, they are united, and underpinned, by a single, common ideology – a consumer culture largely immune to trends, where quality always trumps quantity. In an increasingly globalised world governed by increasingly rampant capitalism, trends are symptomatic of our ever-proliferating, and ultimately insatiable, desires. It seems, however, that the French lifestyle has developed a resistance to this malady of modernity; many Parisiennes would sooner wear a ten-year-old trench coat and their grandmother’s hand-me-down handbag than be au fait with the latest high-street offerings. Of course, Zara, H&M, and the likes do exist in the city, but why is it that they simply do not possess the same high-street hegemony as they do in UK or North-American cities? 

In Paris, there is a ubiquitous and well-established valorisation and protection of classic culture; people won’t compromise their way of life, nor will they dobusiness simply for the sake of popularity or profitability. Most cafes are laptop-free zones in an aim to preserve the sanctity of prendre un café, and all boulangeries said to be selling a baguette tradition must adhere to the ancient French bread law (no ingredients other than flour, water, salt, and yeast.) Though Paris does accommodate (or, maybe, tolerates) matcha-drinking, plant-based tourists, French culture refuses to fundamentally morph itself into what is à la mode. The same principle of quality and durability that applies to clothes shopping in France extends to food shops and fresh produce too; whilst UK supermarket chains’ shelves are stocked with convenience foods, processed snacks, and diet products, French supermarkets offer real, whole foods with minimal packaging, additives, and preservatives. Rather than keep up with the diet fads du moment (keto, paleo, gluten-free, etc), French consumers view their diet, and in turn their health, as a long-term investment for which a quick-fix regime will not suffice. Both fad diets and fashion trends are founded on a certain ephemerality; they provide temporary solutions that satisfy our craving for a new look. Therefore, in a culture where there is a value in longevity, just as the French do not buy into trendy diets, they reject a culture of fast fashion where quality and authenticity are compromised. 

Even the culture of les soldes (sales) in France is shaped by the principle of more mindful expenditure; unlike the arbitrary flash sales that appear unannounced on UK high-streets, les soldes occur at the same time every year (biannually, in January and June), and operate as a kind of regulated trade event in which all retailers participate. With the sales being an anticipated, planned event, shoppers can wait patiently and schedule their purchases accordingly rather than wasting money on soon-to-be discarded items that they bought on impulse. Equally, the sales last for a month at a time– rather than a mere few days–meaning that rather than make pressurised, hasty, and regrettable decisions, consumers can take time to assess carefully what they need, rather than what they simply decide they want at any given moment. What’s more, Parisian shoppers seem to prioritise wardrobe staples in the sales– it is seen as the opportune moment to invest in discounted wool coats and cashmere jumpers rather than soon-to-be-outmoded Zara waistcoats.

There is a certain unapologetic quality in French culture, a characteristic that has often been exaggerated in the archetype of the rude Parisian. However, the assuredness that underlies this stereotyped character is, in fact, predicated on an anti-fad mentality; the French simply do things the way they like, à la “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.” What’s more, this principle can be applied, quite literally, to the world of clothes– why would you buy another coat if you have a perfectly good one already? Perhaps the je ne sais quoi so quintessential of French style is not merely the effortless, ‘I haven’t even brushed my hair’ look, but more so outfits composed of classic items that cannot, and thus will not, go out of fashion. The conviction and self-confidence of French culture is often interpreted or received as arrogance by foreigners, however, maybe, possessing a self-assurance that inoculates you against trend-culture is something to be self-righteous about after all. Perhaps rejecting what is à la mode is truly the most fashionable thing you can do.