Following the difficulties faced by some food courts, dark clouds are now beginning to gather over the world of pop-up stores. These are two symbols of the retail revival. In recent years, pop-up shops have proliferated so much in certain neighbourhoods – and particularly during the various Fashion Weeks (of which there are more and more…) – that it is hardly surprising to learn they are now causing some backlash. Are they on the verge of becoming the Airbnbs of the retail world?

In Paris, residents of Rue Nazareth have already voiced their dissatisfaction at the growing number of pop-up shops, which they accuse of contributing to the decline of traditional high-street shops and causing noise due to the various events organised there. Events which are, in fact, the very reason these spaces are rented in the first place… For small brands that have emerged on social media, these short-term rental shops serve not so much to generate sales as to generate buzz and secure visibility online. It is a model designed to foster an emotional sense of community rather than a business model driven by profitability. The result: DJ sets, live music, queues, beer kegs, deckchairs in car parks and, sometimes, at the end of the event, piles of rubbish. Enough to fuel resentment.

This anecdote is revealing of the transformation of cities as much as it is of the transformation of commerce. The commerce of tomorrow will (also) take the form of a succession of temporary activities in the same location, depending on the seasons and current events. The long term will be the sum of short-term periods. Entire, clearly defined neighbourhoods will be primarily aimed at visitors, just as certain Parisian shops, restaurants and cafés already are, thereby contributing to a standardisation of offers and aesthetics. As if a part of the city were being privatised, removed from the public interest. As for the pavements, traditionally reserved for café and restaurant terraces, they will become highly coveted spaces – potential sources of conflict – viewed as outdoor extensions by all coffee shops, pop-up stores and even, now, bakeries.

The city of tomorrow is taking shape before our very eyes, driven by transience rather than permanence, selectivity rather than inclusivity, and the idealisation of moments spent on a terrace.

Having first set foot in the interior design sector, then in the hotel and catering industries, the luxury sector is now turning its attention, like an ogre, to the world of wellness—the final frontier to be conquered. Following in the footsteps of Dior and Burberry, it is now Balenciaga’s turn to enter this promising market with a stylish and high-performance TechWear range and a unique, limited-edition food offering, created in collaboration with a renowned global fitness studio.

Here, the names and design of the products (branded Balenciaga Bodies) have been carefully crafted: the smoothies are called Main Character, with marine collagen; Momentum, with peanut butter enriched with cordyceps (a super-mushroom); and Back to Life, with mango and matcha infused with ashwagandha (an Indian adaptogenic plant); and the fresh juices, the detoxifying ‘Green Flag’, the antioxidant ‘Red Alert’ or ‘Glow with the Flow’, rich in vitamin C. All of these can be enhanced with boosters such as vitamin-enriched oil, protein or creatine.

Whilst Balenciaga’s proposal may well seem far-fetched to many, it can also be seen as confirmation of the renewed ambition of a luxury sector that is struggling and seeking new sources of growth. As a marker of social status, wellness perfectly meets the current expectations of its customers, who are driven more by the prospect of an experience than by that of ownership.

It also embodies an elitist lifestyle that is in every respect comparable to that promised by luxury, but one that is more focused on self-transformation and optimising one’s body and health, which makes it more acceptable than the display of wealth.

Ultimately, it enables luxury brands to continue generating desire through bold design (from clothing to drinks) and highly appealing functional promises that the ‘happy few’ will see as essential to their lifestyle.

Finally, let us not overlook the competitive aspect of luxury—one that is all too rarely taken into account—which is taking on a new dimension here, as it is no longer so much a question, for luxury buyers, of owning items that are ever more expensive than those of others, but rather of living better and longer than them. Taking part in sport (i.e. running, yoga, Pilates or fitness) is no longer just about strengthening the present; it is also about preparing for the future. This is a new narrative from which many brands could benefit.

A few years ago, in the So-Pi area of Paris, we discovered the first little stall (barely a room in size) serving smash burgers—the ultimate oddity that only foodies know how to pull off. To offer a fresh take on something everyone thinks they know, sometimes all it takes is to change its appearance. Not the recipe, just the presentation and the way the main ingredient is cooked. A lesson to remember.

The smash burger was thus first presented as a burger that had been flattened using a press on a sizzling griddle. This was a way of maximising the volume of meat from a limited quantity, enabling faster cooking and, above all, creating an instantly recognisable caramelised outer crust. Crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside: a whole new taste experience. And a new texture also means new seasonings and, by extension, new ways of eating it. This provided the perfect basis for accessible storytelling, allowing foodies to showcase themselves easily.

Is it any wonder, then, that we’re now seeing a proliferation of smash burgers in all major cities? Dumbo and Junk have made them their speciality, Five Guys offers them, but McDonald’s doesn’t yet. Their success has certainly inspired other sectors, as we can now find smash cookies, smash croque-monsieurs and even smash croissants topped with burrata, thanks to the boundless inventiveness of enthusiastic TikTokers.

This smash hit is no fluke. First and foremost, it reminds us that a product is not just about its shape and recipe. It’s also about a gesture and a texture. These are two ways of changing an established relationship, reigniting waning interest and strengthening customer loyalty. Especially when it comes to a simple gesture that anyone can easily replicate.

This success also highlights the importance of a well-chosen word. ‘Smash’ sounds far better than ‘écrasé’ (crushed), even though the latter had its moment in the spotlight when it helped to breathe new life into mashed potato… ‘Smash’ has a crisp, snappy ring to it; it’s a word associated with a gesture and a sound that conjure up the speed of tennis. A symbol of modernity and power aimed at Gen Z, for whom the burger is as old as their parents – if not their grandparents. What product will be ‘smashed’ next?

We thought we’d seen it all when it comes to storytelling. But that was forgetting that storytelling is capable of constantly reinventing itself. The latest developments on the shelves have just proved it.

First of all, there’s Grand Frais, which, after enlisting Kad Merad, has now turned to Stéphane Bern to give its own cheese, the Pondinois, a story that is as unexpected as it is quirky. When a retailer offers its own cheese, that cheese has no identity other than that of the private-label brand behind it. Pâturages or Reflets de France, for example. Grand Frais’s approach is quite different, as the Pondinois was created by the retailer and matured in its cellars, in the heart of the Ain region. And since a cheese cannot be imagined without its own legend, why should said legend always be serious and credible?

With its Pondinois, Grand Frais embraces the concept of the ‘genuine fake legend’, taking a step that neither Chaussée aux Moines nor Cœur de Lion dared to take. After all, ‘real fake’ breweries are everywhere, many clothing brands have claimed baseless origins, and Moleskine notebooks have never been in the hands of any famous writer. So why not food brands, too? After the justifying storytelling, it’s time for entertaining storytelling. And it’s not Gen Z and Millennials, accustomed to reinterpretations and pastiches, who will find fault with it.

At the same time, three of the biggest YouTubers of the moment—Léna Situations, Squeezie and Inoxtag—joined forces to launch an energy drink called Ciao Energy (hello or goodbye?), modelled on Ciao Kombucha, the modern kombucha created by Squeezie last year. One might have expected a narrative highlighting each of their lifestyles—spanning gaming, sport and professional pursuits—in search of a boost, but this is not the case. Here, the storytelling is driven solely by the product: its (natural) caffeine, its (cane) sugar content and its (natural) flavours, all at an affordable price and sold in supermarkets.

It doesn’t matter that the ‘healthy’ claim might be disputed, as people will simply make up their own stories. When the community has replaced the target audience and fans have taken the place of buyers, storytelling has become a matter of emotional connection and generational identity. There’s no point in telling stories anymore.

At a time when all establishments in the hospitality sector are wondering how to attract attention—the key to their survival—a clever company has come up with a solution. Called Giftshop, it bills itself as a ‘Souvenir Publisher’ and offers official collections to all venues seeking recognition of carefully designed fashion accessories and tableware. Something to help them stand out from the crowd.

Around thirty establishments are already customers. The range includes plates, mugs and glasses bearing the names of those iconic Parisian institutions that capture the imagination (Lipp, Au Pied de Cochon, Bofinger, Café de Flore, Bistrot Paul Bert…) as well as faux-authentic brasseries such as Brasserie Dubillot (opened in 2021) and Brasserie Bellanger (opened in 2019) from the Nouvelle Garde group, which are thus gaining heritage status. The image is always stronger than the truth. Giftshop also offers a clothing line designed to give these establishments a trendy lifestyle vibe much loved by young urbanites: T-shirts and hoodies galore, or, more unexpectedly, a supporter’s jersey for Le Buci café (nice touch), a silk scarf for Bistrot Paul Bert, a sleeveless puffer jacket for A la Mère de Famille, or a Teddy jacket for La Fontaine de Mars and Le Bistrot de Paris. Quite clever!

Following the growing number of fashion brands offering handcrafted objects in their stores—as if they needed to move beyond textiles to attract attention—we now see cafés and restaurants keen, in turn, to make their mark in ways other than through their customers’ taste buds. In the future, brand identities will be built by suggesting ways to escape them…

Giftshop’s range is indicative of this shift. It confirms that consumption has indeed become an experience, as those who have experienced it are tempted to buy a souvenir. A cool souvenir with a distinctive aesthetic that will, in turn, help build a place’s reputation to the point where it becomes “iconic” in its own right. It also confirms that young consumers are, more than ever, on the lookout for signs-to-wear to assert their identity and stand out on social media, which they view as a compass. To exist is to leave a mark.

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.