From Crousty to Master, chicken-based brands have never been so prominent. This reflects current food trends and the economic climate. Chicken, a source of protein highly sought after by anyone looking to build muscle, paired with rice, also offers a guarantee of satiety that is both affordable and highly desirable in these times of financial strain.

But when it pops up in the Society or even Politics sections of media outlets, it serves as a reminder that the symbolic significance of what’s on our plates is not merely a matter of fashion, aesthetics and values, but also of issues relating to class, generation and background. Given how long brands have been championing communities and dreaming of serving them, it was only a matter of time before this happened. Consumption cannot be reduced to moments of conviviality and domestic bliss.

Traditionally, a sense of belonging to a community is largely conveyed through the recognition of an instantly identifiable symbol, previously shared across social media. A logo, a bag, but also a bubble tea in unusual colours, a bright green matcha latte or any other product from Instagram-worthy takeaway coffee shops. With rotisseries such as Master Poulet, the Instagrammability of the dish or the venue is not a prerequisite for success. A lesson to be learnt.

This sense of belonging is experienced differently: in person, and amongst peers—those who share the same background, the same interests and are of a similar age. Eating out with friends, whilst certainly the cause of the crowds denounced by the detractors of chicken franchises, can also be seen as a genuine driver of growth and customer loyalty for the chains. The virtue of shared consumption.

Because people rarely go to these chicken joints on their own; they go with their mates. The same lads who’ll then head to the gym to pump iron, to Citadium to check out the latest trainers, or to Sephora to find their signature fragrance.

Community consumption isn’t limited to online platforms. It exists in real life, too. And it isn’t exclusive to chicken chains, as illustrated by the success of pop-up stores, coffee shops and sports equipment outlets, which are now seen as urban meeting places. The new role of retail.

Whilst La Croissanterie, to mark its 50th anniversary, is offering gourmet versions of its croissants (Nutella, red berries, pistachio, speculoos, hazelnut) and has launched a pop-up ‘Croissant Bar’ where customers can choose their filling, spread and topping, Burger King is launching ‘Baby Churros’. Golden, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, they are generously coated in Nutella or Lotus Biscoff and designed to be shared, as they come in packs of 6, 12 or 20. The aim in both cases is the same: to expand their dessert range, of course, but above all to establish a foothold in the now highly sought-after afternoon snack market (or, in French words, le goûter).

Firstly bakeries, which, having made a bid for the breakfast market, now fancy themselves as tea rooms. An easy goal for them to achieve. Then coffee shops, already on the lookout for new growth drivers in the face of intensifying competition. Why should they only offer slices of cake when they could perfectly well reinvent tea rooms, bringing them the modern aesthetic that they often lack? Not a ‘tea time’ but a ‘coffee break’ or a ‘dessert bar’ for the afternoon, or even, why not, in the evening after dinner, to attract all those who feel like going out without necessarily wanting a beer or a cocktail. Potentially, chapter 2 in the history of coffee shops.

Everyone in the hospitality sector is also thinking about how to make the most of the afternoon. Some have spectacular venues that they could keep open after breakfast and dinner, whilst others have co-working spaces with a constant demand for new ideas for breaks.

It must be said that the afternoon snack offers a host of benefits. It allows everyone to enjoy a moment of indulgence and togetherness that fits in with the current climate of budgetary restraint, and it appeals to a broad audience that is potentially drawn to cross-generational consumption. It reflects both the gradual breakdown of traditional mealtimes and the changing landscape of restaurants, which must now be able to cater for every moment of the day.

There was a time when McDonald’s took everyone by surprise by offering breakfasts that were, to say the least, unexpected in these burger temples. Now it’s time for afternoon snacks.

Given that brands have long dreamed of becoming stars, why not look to the success of actual stars for inspiration on how to achieve this goal – and, in particular, to one of the biggest names of the moment: Céline Dion? The comparison is all the more apt because, unlike other artists, Céline Dion does not intend to travel for her next tour, but is asking her audience to come to her. Sixteen concerts, sure, but all at La Défense Arena. Not a tour, but a residency. A way of showing us that she has all the hallmarks of a brand. Because, even with pop-up shops and targeted events where brands leave their usual retail spaces, it is always the consumers who come to them.

Like Céline Dion, brands too have everything to gain by orchestrating their own temporary disappearance in order to boost their appeal when they reappear. Did the diva not vanish from the spotlight for four years, before making a spectacular return at the top of the Eiffel Tower for the opening ceremony of the Paris Olympics? It is not, of course, a question of making a brand disappear, even for a limited time, but at least one or two of its products, provided these contribute to building its legend. The absence of a product can help to reinforce a brand’s presence.

Like Céline Dion, brands must also know how to build anticipation by creating a gap between the moment the desire is sparked and the moment the purchase is made. Registration, prize draws, pre-registration, waiting lists, teasers and countdowns are just as strategic here as the usual merchandise. Each of these elements helps transform the event into a momentous occasion. Far from being mere relationship marketing tools, they allow each fan to construct their own narrative and even to present themselves as a ‘booking expert’ by offering advice on how to successfully secure a ticket.

Tomorrow, those who attended the ‘concert of the century’ will remember the painstaking ticketing process just as much as they will remember the concert itself. Whilst scarcity has always been the driving force behind desire for brands (collectors’ items, limited editions, drops…), adding an element of chance (pre-sales, scratch cards, prize draws…) can help them become Dionic: not “desirable though inaccessible”, but “all the more desirable for being inaccessible”.

Whilst the Marathon has now established itself as the place to be seen, its successor is (already) on the horizon: Hyrox (Hybrid + Rockstar?), the second edition of which was recently held at the Grand Palais. 100,000 applications for 18,000 (paid) spots. A mixed crowd, of people mostly in their thirties and proud of their bodies.

The principle behind Hyrox is simple: run 8 x 1 kilometre, stopping at a fitness station between each run (pushing or pulling weights, throwing weighted balls, lunges, rowing, etc.). You can do it in pairs or on your own, with the music on full blast. Here, the body transforms into a spectacular machine and the physical exertion becomes a socially rewarding workout.

The Hyrox has everything it needs to be a success. It’s highly Instagrammable, as unlike a marathon, everyone has time to witness everything. It belongs to the family of high-intensity sports (as opposed to so-called low-intensity ones like yoga or Pilates), which are currently very popular because they are seen as a socially acceptable incentive to push one’s limits. It glorifies muscle, which, by fostering both strength and self-confidence, is said to promote longevity, the new Holy Grail. What more could you ask for?

The Hyrox thus confirms that self-awareness is now experienced through physical exertion and that the body is indeed the central focus of contemporary identity. The triumph of individualism. But not only that, since the Hyrox’s success also lies in its social dimension. Building muscle is all well and good, but building muscle with others and, if possible, in a competitive setting, is even better.

Hyrox thus enriches the concept of community that all brands are so keen to cultivate. A community is not defined solely by the number of its members, but by its ability to foster interaction amongst them, which can even extend to competition. The creators of Hyrox have clearly understood this by offering participants a patch to sew onto their clothing. It expresses a sense of belonging (I’m part of it), achievement (I’ve done it) and status (I’m a finisher). No sports federation has such an item. The licence stays in the wallet, the medal at home, and the club jersey is only seen during the game. The patch, however, transforms a personal experience into a public symbol and thus into an object of desire. Every finisher who wears it helps the community grow by inspiring others to join. It’s every brand’s dream.

Business isn’t just about facts. It’s about words, too. These guiding words capture the spirit of the times by describing how brands go about capturing consumers’ desires.

There was a time when every shop had to look like a concept store, to break down the barriers between product ranges and establish the idea that consumption had indeed become a lifestyle driven by a broader ecosystem of cultural and creative references that enriched it. Then came the era of pop-up stores, reflecting the growing importance of timing in the age of social media. The ephemeral in the service of desirability. Today, offering an experience has become a must, proof of the need to make a lasting impression in order to stand out amidst an increasingly homogeneous market and the ever-changing tastes of consumers.

Originally confined to the customer-seller relationship—which was supposed to be ‘re-enchanted’ to become ‘unforgettable’—experiences are now gradually shifting towards the realm of immersion: a new way of escaping the daily grind, of sensory communion, and even of nostalgic connection. Who could resist?

The current success of musicals (La Cage aux folles, Les Demoiselles de Rochefort, Starmania) and films such as Juste une illusion (a meticulous vintage recreation with a powerful soundtrack that fully brings 1985 back to life) is proof of this. Immersion is also a key focus for brands, as demonstrated by the latest adverts from Carrefour (a lively family saga at grandad and grandma’s house set to the music of Véronique Samson) and Puget (a fantasy of a family beach day in Marseille), with cheerful conviviality as their sole promise. The end of product promises? Not forgetting, of course, all the immersive exhibitions designed to attract Millennials—who might be put off by the idea of having to concentrate—by promising them the certainty of Instagrammable shots and unique self-staging opportunities.

Some will undoubtedly see these complete sensory immersions as a form of refuge from an uncertain present and a threatening future. Others will see them as a way for brands to shed any obligation to narrate or explain, in favour of an immediate, universal and rewarding emotional experience capable of fostering intergenerational connection: the ultimate expression of togetherness.

Nature has always held a powerful allure for city dwellers. We’ve known this since the days of Marie Antoinette, but it’s clear that this attraction has grown tenfold since the health crisis and has never waned since. Recent evidence includes the latest ‘exhibition’ at Le Bon Marché—never one to miss a trend—named Tous à la ferme (‘Everybody, to the Farm!’), the wellington boots designed by Aigle in collaboration with the famous taxidermist Deyrolle, and the success of the Perche (a romanticised territory spread across three regions and four departments) as a second home destination.

Whilst nature has long been associated with products and their origins—a guarantee of authenticity for what we eat—it is now more about specific, local territories (or, terroirs) than regions when it comes to winning over our bathrooms and our daily routines. It is impossible today to settle for a green apple shampoo, and whilst a reference to Provence may still trigger a craving for apricot yoghurt, when it comes to skin care products, brands are encouraged to specify the precise geographical origin of their ingredients: a medicinal plant, a rare herb, a forgotten root, a wild flower—yes, but sourced from protected lands, cultivated on an estate or in the garden of a house associated with a powerful imagery. The local origin, rather than a map. And if a laboratory is ever mentioned, it will inevitably be ‘open-air’.

Each production site thus evolves into a distinct land, associated with a certain quality of life and local traditions, before becoming a protected, living, fertile soil, rich in minerals and blessed with exceptional climatic conditions. Origins as a guarantee of quality.

Among the brands that have rushed to embrace this ‘terroir’-driven approach are Sujet, a new perfume brand produced in very limited quantities because it is ‘crafted in tune with the rhythm of the land and the hard work and patience of farmers’, and Tata Harper, Beau Domaine and Dix Hectares, all embodiments of ‘Farm to Face’ cosmetics—the ultimate niche market in the wake of ‘Slow Cosmetics’, vegan cosmetics and ‘Home Cosmetics’.

Here, we use the term ‘geodermology’ to highlight that the skin is not so different from the earth: two living, fragile, layered ecosystems, yet both capable of regeneration. Nature in the skin. Should we expect to see a PDO label on our ointments one day?

With the first Ladurée Café having just opened—a sign of the brand’s commitment to being a part of Parisians’ lives, from morning coffee to afternoon tea (the aim is to open around 50 new outlets in France and internationally over the next five years)—more and more establishments are choosing to expand their breakfast menus.

Usually the domain of tourists and occasional visitors, this meal is now asserting its ambitions and, alongside afternoon tea, could well represent the growth opportunities sought by the industry to cope with the new realities of their market, characterised by highly competitive lunches (bakeries, fast-food outlets, supermarkets, frozen foods, packed lunches, etc.) and dinners increasingly reserved for special occasions or gradually being replaced by the ‘platters and cocktails’ combo.

Any new consumer opportunities are worth seizing, and the current vitality of coffee shops serves as a reminder that consumers are not (all) reluctant to adopt new habits, provided they offer symbolic value.

The morning, a time slot that remains largely untapped, offers numerous advantages for the catering sector, with its calmer, more welcoming atmosphere (local clientele) and a more natural approach, as it is less influenced by the competitive pressures associated with the evening. This presents an opportunity to make a tangible difference. A revamped morning offer could thus easily go beyond the usual coffee, croissants and orange juice to become a natural part of the morning routines already followed daily by Gen Z and Millennials, who are fans of avocado toast and energy-boosting bowls, as well as fitness and beauty routines, before starting their day.

These new breakfasts could also serve as an alternative to business lunches that are too long, too heavy, perhaps even too generous on the drinks, and above all too formal for anyone who doesn’t want their professional life to take up too much of their time. Mums and start-up entrepreneurs are the target audience. Yesterday, breakfast was a family affair at home, Ricoré-style; tomorrow, it could evolve into an activity enjoyed outside home, whether alone or with others, characterised by health benefits and aesthetic concerns. Above all, a routine must not be seen as a mere habit.

There was a time when the world was Stone. Now, the world is Skyr. A word that didn’t exist just three years ago and is now on everyone’s lips and in everyone’s minds. No one really knows where it comes from (Iceland) or what it means (thick milk), but its Nordic ring and high protein content are enough to make it a hit. In the world of dairy products, anything from the cold is always welcome. It’s well known that northerners are all tall, athletic and a bit Viking-like at heart, all thanks to their diet.

Every dairy product is now trying to capitalise on the popularity of skyr, which is said to be as good for people’s health as it is for retailers’ business. The latest additions to the range include a skyr made with French sheep’s milk from the South-West by Le Petit Basque, and a Skyr-based Kiri cheese spread with a protein content 35% higher than that of spreadable cheeses and 30% less fat. Enough to tempt all the young foodies who are now also gym regulars.

The protein content is now as highly sought-after as an ‘A’ Nutri-Score rating. In bars, biscuits and even sweets—where you’d least expect it—and with protein-enriched burgers, crousty and other bowls likely to follow, protein is everywhere. If you don’t go to protein, protein will come to you, to help you reshape your body and make it match the image you have of it. No more settling for the body we were given.

But Skyr isn’t just a magical ingredient seen as a ‘bicep booster’ (Popeye’s modern-day replacement for spinach); it’s also a generational marker, as evidenced by the buzz it’s generating on TikTok with recipes that are more or less unconventional, such as the Skyr Monster (got the reference?), the Skyrcake, Skyr ice cream and even Skyramisu: pour a cup of hot coffee into a pot of vanilla Skyr, stir, dip some ladyfingers into it, sprinkle with cocoa and chill in the fridge. Perfect for impressing your friends with minimal effort.

For anyone whose tastes and perceptions of the body have been shaped by social media, Skyr is very much part of the ‘self-transformation’ family, alongside make-up, serums, workouts and cosmetic surgery. A family that is far from being a niche market.

As the Bus Palladium, a legendary Parisian rock venue, prepares to reopen as a hotel featuring a rooftop terrace and a concert hall seating 200 in the basement—a move designed to reconcile today’s commercial realities with yesterday’s heritage—a new breed of dining venues dedicated to live music is beginning to emerge.

Known as listening cafés, audiophile bars or music bars, these alternative venues are modelled on those that have long been established across Asia, particularly in Japan and Korea – the birthplace of all the new concepts arriving here. Among them is Billie, a vinyl bar and audiophile restaurant serving Mediterranean cuisine and, every evening, a DJ, or The Listener, a wine bar and coffee shop (!) featuring a listening booth with a chaise longue and headphones, as well as a private lounge equipped with sculptural speakers that can accommodate up to twelve people for an hour to listen to their vinyls, CDs or digital audio files. The venue also offers a programme of conferences on music and album discoveries. In Marseille, the Yuzu Record Bar, which recently opened in the Noailles district, is part of the same family.

Following on from the Bus Palladium, we may soon be talking about ‘listening hotels’ as a new type of establishment featuring a small concert hall, a listening lounge and even, why not, a recording studio. Perfect for extending the length of stays, building customer loyalty and fostering a sense of community. In the meantime, why not, one day, ‘listening boutiques’ as the ultimate form of cool experiential retail?

This sudden appeal of sound is no coincidence. First and foremost, music helps to establish a venue’s emotional and sensory identity by transforming it into a gathering place for people united by a shared interest. This is a boon for anyone accustomed to interacting on social media. It also helps create the immersive environments so sought after by Gen Z and Millennials. After all, haven’t they grown up with headphones and earphones to better focus on themselves and shut out all external disturbances?

Immersive, distinctive and unifying, music is now much more than just background noise for everyone in the hospitality and retail sectors: it is a new aesthetic.

Paris’s trendsetting mecca, Merci, has recently opened a new venue called Au Vieux Campeur-Congés Payés, offering a selection of lifestyle products that blend the authenticity, technical expertise and the camping spirit of the famous store in the fifth arrondissement (founded in 1941) with the cheerful, working-class retro vibe of paid holidays, which are celebrating their ninetieth anniversary this year.

You’ll find sturdy, practical and comfortable clothing­­­—essential for outdoor living—as well as a range of accessories, from the most useful to the more whimsical: blankets, rucksacks and caps, as well as pins, key rings, compass thermometers, matches and ballpoint pens. They even sell cachou sweets (€2) and a chocolate-filled Poilâne shortbread (€5), essential for anyone planning to go hiking beyond the third arrondissement.

Such a partnership between two brands, which at first glance seem worlds apart, is no coincidence. It confirms that there is indeed a whiff of nostalgia in the air at present, promising us an easy reconnection—not with an era we may have experienced (who today can recall the sensation of France’s first paid holiday?), but with the idea we have of it, so that we might better live in our own time and make up for its shortcomings.

Here, it is the popularity of traditional bistros, and their egg-and-mayonnaise dishes and veal blanquette, that epitomise a cuisine that remains generous and simple, a world away from globalised and fusion-style cooking. There, it is the craze for reissues of the R5, R4 and Fiat 500, with their retro styling and vibrant colours, that epitomises a joyful and creative era. It is also locally made vintage clothing, slow travel and grainy analogue photos that convey the idea that a different form of consumption is possible.

The world associated with Vieux Campeur-Congés Payés thus appears highly desirable. It dangles before us the prospect of a simpler life in the great outdoors, characterised by camaraderie and physical activity, as a response to the material excesses of modern life, the loneliness and the cult of performance fostered by social media. A simpler kind of happiness, just a quick spin away in a Dacia Pack Sleep or a VW ID Buzz. The experiences to be had are not limited to those offered by the brands.