The Fooding guide is celebrating its 25th anniversary. How time flies! Tomorrow’s historians will say that in France, there was a before and after Fooding. Before, there were Le Guide Vert and Michelin guide, and culinary television programmes hosted by unique chefs chosen for their regional accents. With the Fooding guide, coolness triumphed. A concept that was still little known at the beginning of the century, it would become a lifestyle that even found its way onto our plates.

Coolness is the primacy of brotherly horizontality over paternal verticality, the revenge of the small local player over the international giant, the consecration of gesture and know-how in the face of industrialisation, intention as proof of sincerity. An ideal society made of humanity and kindness. Time for small plates, small producers and still wines.

The Fooding was initially a matter of vocabulary and grammar. New, invented words, rich in imagery and, above all, capable of rendering obsolete those we had known for too long. A way of demonstrating one’s difference. Dining in a bristroquet does not have the same flavour as dining in the local bistro. A natural or artisan wine does not tell the same story as a cépage.

It also marked an aesthetic break with tradition. Destructured, deconstructed, fusion dishes gradually became the norm. Graphic, airy, photogenic and then Instagrammable, they revolutionised presentation and expectations, allowing a generation to make its mark by pushing the boundaries.

The Fooding guide now counts many Boomers among its readers, raising the question of where the next generation of diners is. Faced with a restaurant sector that is struggling to remain attractive (high prices, fierce competition leading to standardisation of codes and offerings, ‘photocopied’ storytelling), the vitality of coffee shops, alcohol-free or low-alcohol wines and fermented drinks is striking.

Unprecedented shapes and colours, insider vocabulary, new ways of consuming, refined and renewed aesthetics, ethical discourse: promises of exclusivity that are reminiscent of the origins of the Fooding. Except that today, the movement is no longer in the hands of specialised journalists but passionate influencers who are not looking to do better, but differently. Proof that our relationship with food is primarily generational.

The evolution of commerce often drives the evolution of cities. Yesterday, city centres were deserted following the establishment of out-of-town shopping centres; today, fast food chains are multiplying in city centres, to the detriment of convenience stores. A third chapter is now being written: that of community shops frequented by the same type of consumers.

They may be tourists, from here or elsewhere, foodies and enthusiasts for a particular lifestyle, or influencers lost in the real world, searching for a physical home base. Some neighbourhoods are now characterised by an excessive presence of coffee shops, Instagrammable neo-bakeries, shop windows displaying signs in English (sorry we are closed), establishments offering breakfast all day long, cafés with facades covered in plastic flowers and fake Bouillons with carefully crafted storytelling. Conversely, certain long-established establishments may suddenly find themselves on the map of desirability (the ‘secret’ addresses), causing new tensions with residents whose habits are being disrupted.

Among the new figures in community-oriented urban commerce, we can also mention pop-up shops, always associated with the promise of unique experiences, shops that are merely storefronts for e-commerce sites, and stores that target only a wealthy international clientele, at home anywhere in the world but indifferent to local realities. Finally, let’s not forget ethical brands, which sell citizenship, and those entirely devoted to low prices, end-of-line items, drop sales, clearances, second-hand goods, knock-offs and fast fashion, which are becoming increasingly numerous and ultimately constitute a parallel world where everyone experiences the exhilarating feeling of having been smarter than everyone else.

A new snapshot of commerce is forming before our eyes and shaping our future. Some will see it as a sign of its vitality and its ability to constantly invent new codes and new fantasies, far from the uniformity of the flagship stores that futurologists had predicted. Others will regret the impenetrability of each of these forms, which leave little room for mixing, discovery and encounters, which are the very essence of commerce.

According to a study conducted in 50 countries, for the first time in over twenty years, the amount of time spent on social media by users is declining. Between 2022 and 2024, it decreased by 10%, from 2 hours and 27 minutes per day to 2 hours and 20 minutes. This trend is mainly driven by younger people, who are tired of an experience that has become too uniform and dominated by the impression of endless, impersonal, algorithmic content. What was supposed to bring people together has ended up isolating them. For You pages and feeds have mutated into advertising storefronts or dumping grounds for AI-generated videos, leaving little room for spontaneity.

According to the same study, the proportion of users logging on to ‘keep in touch’ or ‘express themselves’ has fallen by more than 25% since 2014 among younger people. Scrolling has become automatic, rarely a source of pleasure. Faced with this weariness, practices are changing. Communication is shifting towards more intimate formats, such as private messaging, newsletters and podcasts: smaller spaces that give an impression of authenticity and control, far removed from the viral logic imposed by the major networks. According to experts, this is more a matter of rebalancing than disenchantment, as those who use these spaces are regaining control over their attention.

For digital giants and brands, this is a clear signal: they must prepare to attract customers in a different way. Through the quality of their interactions rather than the quantity of their content. After luxury fatigue, also driven by younger consumers, we now have digital fatigue. A pause after the hysteria of recent years. Who could complain?

The press (The Guardian, The Standard, The Times) recently revealed that the most popular booking slot for young people going to restaurants is now between 6pm and 7pm. More accessible, fewer people, less waiting. An efficient choice that is not surprising from a generation that constantly measures, evaluates and compares everything. Dining early means having time, once home, to settle down on the couch, watch a series or start a game of Uno, 7 Wonders or Werewolves. Today, there are 150 board game publishers, compared to around 15 fifteen years ago. Infusions seem to have a brighter future than effusions…

We thought we had exhausted the possibilities of Care, but that was without counting on its power of regeneration. Today, it is appearing where we least expected it: in the worlds of sleep and fashion.

At Dodo, a bedding specialist, their R&D­­—in association with a specialised laboratory—has developed a patented process that allows its new range of duvets and pillows to be infused with tea tree essential oil microcapsules, which release their contents as you move during the night. This naturally stimulates the body’s production of melatonin, an essential hormone for sleep. A clever idea.  

During last Fashion Week, the designer duo behind the brand Coperni introduced C+, a clothing line called Carewear: a fusion of cosmetics and textiles comprising a regenerative bodysuit, top and leggings, whose unique feature is that they care for the skin without you even noticing. A patented blend combining probiotics and prebiotics are encapsulated in the fabric, which can rebalance the skin’s microbiome, strengthen its natural barrier and stimulate its self-repair mechanisms. Its effects, including skin hydration, comfort and natural radiance, are said to be visible after just eight hours of wear and can last for up to 40 washes.

In the beginning, only products from pharmacies could legitimately claim to protect us, then came the era of cosmetics and food products which, through the careful selection of ingredients, offered to care for us in turn. More recently, connected devices such as watches, bracelets and rings have been added to the list, promising to monitor our heart rate or the quality of our sleep. Cars have not escaped this trend either, as exemplified by the brand new Clio 6, equipped with 29 safety and driver assistance systems. Reassuring.

Some will see in this rise of Care the desire of brands to appear ever more empathetic and close to their buyers. Others, the consequence of their discourse: by constantly problematising our daily lives to better capture our attention and multiplying the injunctions to “let go” to experience ultimate hedonistic experiences, how can we be surprised that brands now all offer to protect us? The marketing version of the arsonist firefighter.

There has been quite a commotion since the BHV’s surprise announcement of the arrival (this week) within the walls of the department store of the most reviled brand of the moment: Shein, the Mephistophelian embodiment of fast fashion. Au Bonheur des Dames (The Ladies’ Delight), but make it fast fashion. The shock.

First lesson: it is the flow, not the loyal customers, that now makes the strength of a brand. In the world before, we talked about “passing trade” but “flow” certainly sounds more techno… The BHV, suffering both from an ageing clientele and a kind of emptiness within, hopes to find in Shein something to both attract the crowds and rejuvenate its customers. The customer flow is a bit like big game fishing: among the transhumant crowd thus captured, there is hope for a few good catches from which the entire store could benefit. Who knows?

The flow is the moment that becomes the purchase decision and the unplanned bargain that seals the deal. It is also, very often, purchases with friends or one’s tribe, who will then rush to share the experience on social media. Sounds like a great gateway for phygital… Isn’t it to capture this magical flow that fashion brands are all tempted today to open a café in their stores when they are not whipping up an immersive event that will generate buzz?

Second lesson: ethics is not just a belief or a stance. It is also a catalyst for activities. Proof: all the anti-Shein brands that have set up shop opposite the BHV in a pop-up store. The resistance did not take long to organise. Solidarity and communication campaigns around a common value: a sisterhood of marketing. The 200 square meters ephemeral store (until spring 2027…) named L’Appartement Français in reference to the first shop of its initiators located nearby, could just as well have been called The Other Bazaar since it will host more than 3,000 Made in France items (decoration, home linen, clothes, toys) supposed to prove that it is possible to consume French products without breaking the bank. A challenge.

Here, we may buy less quickly than over there, but what we buy will be produced here and not over there. These are two models that are about to oppose each other in the Marais. Consumers are called to vote. With their conscience or with their wallet.

Since the pandemic, people are once again fantasising about country houses. Easier to reach than a holiday home, more often surrounded by nature than located by the sea, the country house tells a story that is just waiting to meet ours. They promise rejuvenation, inspiration, reconnection and a slower pace of life. Who could resist?

As a result, rural tourism is booming, new options are appearing, and the Perche region is establishing itself as a local alternative to the Luberon. Old residences, mansions, farmhouses, hunting lodges and extravagances that had become too expensive to maintain are being reinvented as country houses to rent or share, kid-friendly and decorated with cool, iconic vintage finds, perfect for cosy moments by the fire. These collections of ‘ready-to-live-in houses less than two hours from Paris’ are available for short stays with the option of a babysitter, a fridge full of regional products, a barbecue and ready-made picnic baskets for unforgettable lunches. These new guest houses allow you to live like in a Sautet film and play at happiness without worrying about the material side of things. No wonder they are so appealing.

The phenomenon is also affecting the corporate world, where secondary residences are unexpectedly reprogrammed for employees, especially those in their thirties, who can use them to work remotely, brainstorm, polish their slides in an aspirational, Instagrammable setting, but also escape to go hiking, meditate, hug trees and, when evening comes, return to let loose at extended aperitifs or improvised DJ sets that no neighbour will complain about. What better way to bond project teams and restore the desirability of the employer brand?

The success of these two models of neo-country homes, which no one would have bet on in the 1990s and which are now attracting investors of all kinds, is no coincidence. It confirms a renewed interest in the countryside and provides insight into the three major drivers of consumption, those capable of triggering the much-hoped-for desire to buy: the rejuvenating elsewhere, the protective community and the rewarding aesthetic. The winning combination of the moment.

We recently learned of the launch of a new channel dedicated to pets. Called Dog & Cat TV, it aims to inform, advise, move and entertain viewers. The programme includes reports on the latest news about our four-legged friends, health, nutrition and training advice, documentaries and reality TV-style programmes. Gamelle des chefs and Cœurs à adopter are likely to be particularly popular…

In recent years, the pet industry has been thriving, and it didn’t take long for marketers to sniff out this niche. Proof of this can be seen in the proliferation of daycare centres, dog sitters and dog trainers of all kinds, giving rise to new obligations, new codes and new consumer habits. This is enough to whet the appetites of a wide variety of people and delight ‘pet parents’, the new name for those who were once called ‘owners’ in the past.

It should be noted that while cats have had their moment of glory on the internet thanks to their antics, dogs are the ones who come out on top in real life. Their numbers have not changed much in France (9.9 million in 2024), but the age of their owners has fallen significantly, with those under 35 making up the majority of owners. Gone are the days of granny’s lapdog.

There are many explanations for this phenomenon. Some see dogs as a kind of test for couples before the arrival of their first child. Dogs in the service of demographic rearmament. The age at which people have their first child continues to rise, while the number of couples who do not want children is growing. Others, more psychologically minded, consider pets to be a reassuring protection for Gen Zers who are anxious about the state of the world and its cohort of uncertainties. A remedy for the porosity of the outside world as well as clear proof that the consolation society is not just a theory. Dogs and Labubu, same fight.

Finally, faced with the omnipresence of virtual relationships, pets represent an antidote, a way of reconnecting with the materiality of the real world, the present moment and even social interaction, as dogs can be a catalyst for encounters and exchanges. This return to reality is confirmed by the success of chess and board games, as well as van life among people in their thirties. The very people we imagined to be lost in the virtual world…

Department stores and magazines are the two main victims of digitalisation. Is it any wonder that they have decided to join forces to prove that they are not doomed to disappear? The former now like to present themselves as places of experience (even hosting a theatre stage like Le Bon Marché…), while the latter like to come out of their kiosks when covering current events. During fashion week, for example.

Grazia magazine has set up shop on the first floor of La Samaritaine until October 29th with an exhibition tracing its editorial history through its most memorable covers since its first issue in 1938. Each era featured provides an opportunity to showcase one of the pieces from the current season. Clever. Lectures on creating a magazine complete the experience.

The same strategy was employed at BHV with Elle, which, to mark its 80th anniversary, decorated the store’s windows and created dedicated display areas. Every Wednesday in September, readers were invited to meet the magazine’s journalists and take a look behind the scenes, while Saturdays were dedicated to lifestyle events focusing on pleasure and well-being.

The strategy is clear: by partnering with iconic women’s magazines, department stores are affirming their place in the modern world, suggesting a different perspective on their identity and product range, and transforming their store floors into event venues. They are appealing to a curious clientele seeking meaning and connection beyond the simple act of purchasing.

For magazines, these partnerships also represent a way to extend their influence in the physical space as their business model is reinvented. When all print media is migrating to digital spaces, is it not a way to differentiate oneself and thus attract attention to invest reality alongside players that were thought to represent the old world?

The concept of the magazine-shop is ultimately just one possible expression of the concept store that captured the imagination of the retail sector in the late 1990s, convinced of the need to break down barriers between product ranges in order to present consumption as a way of life. Staged and recontextualised, products are transformed into objects, shoppers into aesthetes, brands into stories and shops into galleries. This is a transformation that digital technology can hardly promise.

When, in the early 2010s (with the birth of Ten Belles and Café Coutume), the first baristas appeared in Paris, young, bearded, tattooed, Australian or Anglo-Saxon, their discourse on the selection of their coffees—inevitably rare, sourced and eco-responsible—was as instantly appealing as their ability to create foam art in their cups.

A new era was dawning in the world of café culture, and everyone quickly realised that distinctive features and precision in execution would be essential to restore the sense of wonder that coffee had lost by becoming such a commonplace part of our daily lives. Drinking coffee was soon to become a ritual, the ultimate fantasy of all those seeking to re-enchant the mundane and construct new imaginaries designed to convince us to buy. The proliferation of latte foam art competitions soon confirmed this.

Who had been interested in foam until then? At Starbucks, enclosed in a to-go mug and thus destined to be drunk without being seen, coffee had bought its modernity by sacrificing its taste and colour under the onslaught of toppings and flavourings. Foam, rendered invisible, has not yet had its final say, however, and has even become one of the distinguishing features of coffee shops.

Today, foam is responsible for revitalising the beer market by establishing itself as a means of attracting new drinkers.

After launching its Heineken Studio, a laboratory for experimentation and innovation, Heineken recently unveiled its first creation, the result of research combining traditional brewing methods with innovation: Foam Infusion, a process that involves flavouring not the liquid, but the foam of its beers, with a range of aromas (tropical, aniseed, coffee and even spritz). Heineken Foam Infusion Style Anis, with its aniseed-flavoured foam, is already available exclusively in Marseille. Clever. It transforms the foam, which is the historic signature of Heineken beer, into a whole new taste experience.

Far from being just froth, a light and ephemeral layer, a visible space in the process of disappearing, foam proves to us through coffee and beer that it can also be the source of new tasting experiences, both visual and gustatory. With foam, the sensations do not always fade away.

Since the pandemic, many lucky owners of outdoor spaces, aware of their privilege, have begun to pay new attention to them. The economy of attention means looking at what we used to merely see.

Balconies are thus transformed into mini patios and patios into mini gardens, giving rise to a flood of new concerns and new aesthetics that no gardening or DIY retailer could complain about.

The small round table in coloured metal, matched with two folding chairs, accompanied by fairy lights or a candle holder, has thus become a cool status symbol for young urban hipsters with balconies, just like a piece of vintage furniture, an iconic lamp or a Berber rug.

Owners of gardens or “plots of land” are also suddenly struck by new ambitions. A swimming pool and barbecue, even a Japanese one, are no longer enough for them. They dream of a garden lounge and an outdoor kitchen so they can “live outdoors as well as indoors”. Long live local Robinson Crusoe-style adventures. Especially when protected by a connected mosquito trap that can be controlled from your smartphone, such as those offered by Home Defense, whose stated ambition is to “revolutionise our outdoor moments”.

Some are also tempted by home extensions, a market that shows no sign of slowing down. A veranda or, why not, a pergola, a carport, a pool house (a covered area) or even a fully equipped prefabricated cube that can be ‘plugged’ onto your house to become, when the time arises, a perfect independent studio to welcome a new life as a freelancer, satisfy a desire for a private workshop, accommodate teenagers seeking independence or paying visitors on short-term rentals.

Those who can gain square metres, others gain comfort or aesthetics, and everyone feels they have transformed their living environment without moving and in a minimal amount of time. The dream.

A logic of optimisation already at work in interior design (customised storage, mezzanines, double-height rooms, etc.) which, in its own way, tells us something about current expectations and which could well spread to all areas of consumption given the economic context. In the absence of opportunities for expansion, optimisation as a way of life.