The press recently informed us that, after a high-profile collaboration with his friend Pharrell Williams for the forthcoming Louis Vuitton men’s collection, Nigo, the Japanese designer behind Kenzo and a DJ and music producer in his spare time, has become artistic director of FamilyMart, a Japanese convenience store chain particularly famous for its egg sandwiches…

Founded in 1978, the brand now has over 16,000 shops in Japan and more than 8,000 abroad. So this is far from an ungrounded collaboration between the hip guys of the moment. Nigo will be involved in the design of future shops, ‘strategic product categories’ and the development of marketing campaigns, according to the company, which hopes to best embody Japanese culture and lifestyle. It is worth noting that, contrary to all expectations, he will not be asked to design clothes and accessories… which makes the initiative all the more original.

Some will be quick to point out that Japan is a country like no other, and that the attention paid to detail on a daily basis is far from anecdotal. They will be right. Others will see in this unprecedented convergence the ultimate confirmation, if one were needed, of the disappearance of frontiers between categories and, more particularly, the sign of a ‘fashionisation’ of all markets that is helping to establish self-affirmation as the main expectation associated with consumption.

The future often appears in the form of oddities, through offers designed for Gen Z, the generation born on social media who have mastered aesthetic codes like never before, and who are naturally set to become tomorrow’s mainstream population. So why should we be surprised to see fashion designers moving closer to the mass retail sector?

Of course, price will continue to dominate decision-making, and retailers will not give up their role as cost-killers, but why not consider, here and there, a few alternative supermarket models, based on the idea of a price-style or price-experience ratio, which would break with fifty years of rationality fuelled by price wars and the proliferation of promotions to better serve the immutable price-quality ratio?

Everywhere there is a desire (which could quickly turn into a need) for a more emotional relationship with the world – why should retail be exempt from this?

Whether it is placed in the middle of the table at family Sunday roast, or judged by the way it has been reared – on hormones or grain, in battery cages or in the open – the chicken has always been more of a symbol than an animal.

A symbol of junk food (in the era of The Wing or the Thigh) that has become, over the years, that of a ‘father and son’ farming tradition. And now, thanks to its carbon footprint that is four times smaller than that of beef, it has even become a spokesperson for environmental awareness. Tell me about chicken and I will tell you what period you live in. So what can we say about the current success of fried chicken, the big winner on everything from street food to the Fooding restaurant scene?

That the love for chicken is not waning (and too bad if it is less often of French origin) and that, to achieve this, it has been able to constantly reinvent itself. The recipe for longevity sought by all brands: always being there, but never the same. Whether in US mode, fried and paired with a sauce that will take your taste buds all the way to Louisiana, or in Asian mode, seducing fans of manga, K-pop and Korean skincare, chicken is still going strong. It is just as capable of appealing to youngsters, under the banners of KFC (nearly 400 restaurants), Popeyes (around thirty openings a year) or Out Fry (Korean Fried Chicken, part of the Taster group dedicated to delivery) as it is to their parents, when it is served on a plate laid out on a white tablecloth, like at Michelin-starred chef Mory Sacko’s restaurant… One foot in tradition, the other in novelty: the only way to innovate.

Agile, creative and inclusive, chicken ticks all the boxes of modernity, following in the footsteps of pizzas, burgers, kebabs and even doughnuts, from the ‘trash food’ finger food category, to the new ‘trash good’ with no regard for the balanced diet injunctions that haunt today’s self-righteous discourse. Fried chicken beautifully marinated in Cajun spices and bathed in a variety of sauces – what could be more appealing in a world that wants to have everything under control?

Orthorexics can always make do with eating protein-rich chicken breasts before heading to the gym to pump up their muscles.

Reading the latest brand news can be dizzying. This is how we learn that the famous scooter manufacturer Vespa now has a range of lifestyle clothing and accessories (not limited to a pair of gloves and a neck warmer…), that the hotel Le Bristol recently launched its first ready-to-wear collection (T-shirts, jumpers and pyjamas, as well as hats…), called Bristol Society and adorned with its coat of arms in ‘sublime materials’, and that, to mark the opening of its nail bar, the Ritz is offering a nail varnish designed with Kure Bazaar called Ritzy, a red colour ‘at the intersection of black and bright reds, enhanced by blue pigments, the emblematic colour of the Parisian palace founded in 1898’.

Meanwhile, Club Med published a cookbook of 70 recipes created by its chefs, and last weekend in the Marais district of Paris (of course), Lancôme created a (very) temporary immersive pop-up dedicated to its new Idôle range, where, between make-up sessions, you could nibble on pink popcorn and refresh yourself with cans of the brand’s signature colour. It’s an understatement to say that, at the moment, brands seem to be less concerned with their DNA and territory of origin than they were in the past.

Better still, they are doing everything they can to get out of it. As if a new way to exist in one’s market had become to go ‘elsewhere’. Not necessarily to establish themselves there; just to show themselves, prove that they can be there and, in the process, attract attention and get people talking about them in a different way. As if ‘being yourself’ now meant ‘appearing like someone else’. A conviction that extends far beyond the world of consumerism…

Hence the current appeal of lifestyle, the destination of every brand’s dream. As soon as they set foot there, they are shrouded in the casual aura they were looking for to appear cool, the ultimate Grail. Relaxed luxury here, ‘hospitality experience’ there, everything seems easier and even more fun in the world of lifestyle.

For brands, it is no longer just a question of thinking in terms of collabs or partnerships (seen before, too many times) but of extending their territory towards a lifestyle positioning in order to regenerate themselves and offer new narratives capable of making a difference and nurturing the sense of belonging of their customers, who are convinced that they are what they consume. Who would hesitate?

To understand the psychological state of a country, it is not always necessary to directly talk to its inhabitants – sometimes it is enough to look at what they reach for when they go shopping.

A short while ago, we reported here on the success of plush toys with what is usually described as an adult audience. Now the press has revealed the success of outdoor slippers – neo-slippers that are particularly popular with those who are never behind a trend. Made from hide, rounded, padded or even furry, the outer slipper wears its comfort and softness ostentatiously and now completes an urban look made up of joggers, leggings and a beanie to avoid having to do your hair.

Some will see this as a final effect of the pandemic, a chance to reclaim oneself and one’s home, when it was suddenly possible to no longer make the effort of getting dressed. The first shy excursions in slippers were at the foot of buildings to pick up a Deliveroo bag. Soon, it seemed feasible to keep them on to ‘walk’ the dog and go to the corner shop, as all this was done in lockdown and teleworking mode… As habits quickly take hold, why not stay in slippers all day long? Giving up comfort is not easy.

The easily identifiable UGGs led the way, followed by a whole host of cosy replicas which, thanks to their wide price range, were bound to be a big hit. Lightweight, warm and comfortable, they have become symbols of cocooning 2.0, a world away from the checkered slipper. At the same time, we learned of the great comeback of the hot water bottle, which is now being used as a low-tech form of heating, endorsed by a clear environmental conscience. Especially if it is dry: filled with chickpeas or cherry stones…

If we add the fact that our beautiful country is Europe’s leading market for board games (with annual growth of 4%) and that sales of puzzles for adults rose by 18% in 2024, we have a possible portrait of today’s France. A France where the ever-growing SHC (Slipper-Home-Comfort) figure can become the new GDP…

Even if it is not always the convivial moment imagined by Ricoré and dreamed of by all the morning food brands, breakfast still has an excellent image in France. 80% of French people eat breakfast regularly, often with products such as bread, cereals or dairy. A country’s identity is also shaped by its eating habits.

What’s new is that people are increasingly having breakfast outside their homes, in one of the (very) many coffee-shops… if not while walking, the ultimate sign of urban modernity… Coffee-to-go is thus trying to infiltrate our habits, taking the little black coffee further and further away from the zinc counter where it was born and with which it was thought to be associated forever. “Signature lattes” and other “flat whites” to take away, accompanied by a slice of cake, have appeared on all menus, including the most Michelin-starred, proving that globalisation is first and foremost about standardising tastes and habits.

Faced with the rise of these new practices, bakeries were quick to see takeaway coffee as the perfect growth driver to boost their pastry sales. Breakfast has become a strategic area with great potential, as the acceleration of modern lifestyles and the quest for simplicity generate a search for small pleasures on a daily basis.

Breakfast offers access to restaurants at an affordable price, benefits from a healthy image – as long as you forgo the pastries and opt for a savoury egg-avocado-salmon option – and represents a moment of unconventional conviviality, like a shorter, lighter version of the weekend brunch. It can also accommodate all the latest novelties: hybrid croissants of all kinds, coffees with a host of toppings and flavours, and drinks with constantly renewed promises. Therein lies its appeal, a far cry from buttered toast and white ceramic coffee cups. When will we see a breakfast inspired by other places, of Oriental or Asian inspiration?

There was a time when breakfast seemed to belong only to industrial cereal manufacturers. Soon, it will appear on restaurant menus as a ‘gourmet snack’ or a ‘reinterpreted board’. Our age loves nothing more than to invent new rituals.

The faster the world seems to move, the more everyone feels the need to slow down the game. The ‘slow’ or ‘pause’ option. Similarly, the more sophisticated a market becomes, in terms of both its promises and its offerings, the more there may be a desire for ‘normality’. Normality as a pause in the concept race. But what is ‘normal’ in a space where everything is watched, commented on, analysed and staged? Can anyone still claim to be ‘normal’?

As proof, the word seems so unassuming that it was quickly renamed normcore, in order to give it the appeal needed for style agencies and the fashion press to take notice. The result: everyone is relieved. Those who had no interest in fashion or interior design suddenly feel part of the modern, even trendy, game. And all those who saw themselves as ‘early adopters’, throwing their lot in with dubious aesthetics, feel emboldened in their daring. The worst is yet to come.

And so it is that, after having been reviled and associated with an unforgivable lapse in taste, white socks and football fans’ scarves are back at the top of the pile, provided that the latter is worn like in the old world, on the head like a country woman’s kerchief. White socks, on the other hand, remain (for the time being) on your feet, as long as you do not try to hide them.

As a result of the normcore wave, it is becoming increasingly difficult to tell the difference between ‘good taste’ and ‘bad taste’, or between a history-geography teacher who looks like he is always about to go hiking and a trendy urbanite equipped with the same ‘technical’ attributes in water-repellent gore-tex or heat-regulating techwear. Only the receipts can tell the difference. Decathlon, Vieux Camper or Arc’Teryx?

A sub-family of ‘normcore’, ‘gorpcore’ (from ‘good old raisin and peanuts’, a hiker’s snack consisting of mixed fruits and nuts) captures the technical, streamlined aesthetic of mountain sports, and is now particularly fashionable, much to the delight of outwear brands. This is undoubtedly a diffuse effect of Covid, between the desire to show off one’s shape, the urge for wide open spaces and a penchant for stylish performance. Every office worker is now a potential adventurer. Especially if they travel by bike.

Last month, AFP reported that although the toy market was suffering from the fall in the birth rate (170,000 fewer births per year), it was holding up better than expected thanks to the contribution of… teenagers and young adults… In France, “over the last twelve months, purchases aimed at consumers aged 12 and over accounted for 29% of total sales of games and toys, an unprecedented figure for this market“ and “sales of soft toys alone jumped by 14% over the same period, to reach 50 million euros”, says the report.

That is all it took for trend-setters of all stripes to see it as a sign of a ‘withdrawn’ society, the result of an environment that is as uncertain as ever and therefore holds little promise of a positive future. Cuddly toys as anti-depressants. Why not? But it could also be seen as a coming-out party in plush fashion, publicly accepting a long-suppressed passion…

But do these explanations really hold water for a generation that, having grown up in the world of video games and social media, has accepted the right to regress to the point of making it part of its identity? Especially as cuddly toys have, for some time now, been leaving the bearskin behind them, sometimes without ever having seen it. The trend of the moment draws its inspiration from the world of food, which, after influencing interior design (with the big return of barbotine pottery and other allusions to vegetables in ceramics), continues to reinvent itself.

In the shape of a croissant, doughnut, fruit or veg, or even burgers, baguettes, macarons or colourful pastries, neo plush toys know no bounds. They are a big hit with GenZult (Gen Z + Adult), driven by a desire for regressive pleasure as much as by the prospect of little kawaii displays that are sure to generate buzz on social media. Sales of the British brand Jellycat, the leader in this new category of soft toys (presented and sold like pastries) have quadrupled since 2019. Who could have predicted it?

We knew that Gen Zers, used to texts and voice messages, have trouble making phone calls, but now we learn that having stayed on social media for too long, they might need a cuddly toy to tackle reality. It is not easy to break away from the digital world…

We thought we had a good grasp of January, a paradoxical month, since it is all about letting off steam (with clearance sales of all kinds and what is left of the white sale period of yesterday’s world) and restricting ourselves at the same time, as part of our good resolutions.

When it comes to resolutions, we have all heard of Dry January (launched in 2013), the more recent Veganuary (as its name suggests) and, even rarer, Januhairy (pun intended), which involves not waxing for a month as a challenge to the injunctions imposed on women. Who knows if, tomorrow, we won’t be entitled to a salutary Deconnectuary, or even an invigorating Runuary, just to get rid of the toxins of the festive season? The good thing about the ‘-uary’ ending is that you can turn any new year’s intention (January, February only) into a social phenomenon.

In addition to sales, we are now seeing a new kind of ‘rush’ – the ultimate proof, if proof were needed, that the consumption demon never sleeps. It is called Returnuary, and describes the wave of consumers once again rushing to the shops, but this time not to find a bargain, but to return items that do not fit or that they no longer like.

Some will see this as a side-effect of the excesses of Black Friday, a reminder that a poison is always capable of generating its antidote. Without excess purchases, no returns. Others will see it as a sign of the emergence of new behaviours. Buying the same item in several sizes, for example, to be sure of taking advantage of the current promotion. Or, more questionably, being tempted to use the product or item of clothing you’ve bought for a short time with great care, leaving the labels on… in order to return it, unnoticed.

After the quest for dupes (resembling), the purchase of Chinese dupes (imitating) and even ‘homemade’ counterfeits, the Gen Z consumers see themselves as clever little creatures, capable of evaluating all the opportunities offered by the market as well as hacking into a system that they feel has taken (too) much advantage of them.

In the United States, shop returns increase every year, peaking in February. In France, the phenomenon is still in its early stage…

Every year, Christmas gives all the pastry chefs in France the opportunity to demonstrate their skills by making a Yule log. And it is unique in that neither the galette des rois (epiphany cake) nor the Easter egg can compete with it. The log has as much to do with aesthetics as with its recipe, and these days it has to be surprising to ensure it has a good life on social media. The title of work of art is not far away, and it is the feeling of being able to access it that triggers pride as much as desire to buy.

First observation: logs are less and less interested in continuing to look like a log. They have become a conceptual exercise in which their original shape is reduced to a quote, or even completely absent. This year, we saw a number of architectural logs that looked like models of the Château de Versailles or Haussmann façades. In the shape of candlesticks, too, designed by Sarah Lavoine for the Angélina tea room… A Mont Blanc log would have been too easy…

After Vuitton’s signature pastries, here is further proof that fashion-patisserie is just around the corner: we are now ready to confront ourselves with a Guerlain, Gucci or Louboutin log. The exercise of travelling from one universe to another (just like in dreams) is in fact a sign of distinction: the less a log looks like a log, the more it asserts its elite status. The prizes are there to prove it. And the more sophisticated it looks, the higher the expectations of a remarkable taste.

Secondly, the log is associated with ever more elaborate storytelling than it could produce when it was just a tree trunk adorned with playful elves and rounded snowmen. It’s the imaginary world of custom-made products, perceived value and artistic craftsmanship that is at play here, combined with that of new technologies and, in particular, 3D printing. Imagination and execution take precedence, performance becomes an expression of know-how, and stylisation dominates aesthetics.

All these neo-logs, produced in ultra-limited editions, are now even the subject of a special prize at the Trophées Fou de Pâtisserie, the profession’s equivalent of the Césars. It had to happen. Recognition from the profession is a prerequisite for recognition from consumers.

What brand or retailer would not dream of seeing its customers become something else? More sporty, more responsible, more committed or more expert. Is this not irrefutable proof that their conversion ‘mission’ has succeeded? The world of brands is never very far from that of cults in their intention to change our attitudes and behaviour.

The Brittany region is no exception, and is going one step further by asking us to change our identity. ‘Leave as a tourist. Come back as a Breton’. Who could hesitate when faced with such a fine promise? To stop being the one who passes through and become the one who embraces. Discovering a region and leaving it having adopted its values. Brittany is not offering us a destination, but a personal transformation.

During the health crisis, everyone imagined themselves somewhere else. In the countryside, in a small town, by the sea. The idea was to transpose one’s life to another environment. Not enough, says Brittany, which recommends a real personal experience, capable of transforming us in the way that only real experiences can. The challenge is no longer to suggest that we move to Brittany to escape the metropolis, adopt a different pace and, perhaps, give a different meaning to our lives, but to embrace the Breton way of life and values.

A journey into ourselves that the communication methodically breaks down into ‘Leave as an city dweller, come back as a sailor’ (Partir urbain, revenir marin), ‘Leave drained, come back refreshed’ (Partir rincé, revenir ressourcé), and even an amusing ‘Leave sceptical, come back Celtic’ (Partir sceptique, revenir celtique), all of which guarantee a return perspective that as not exactly identical. It is not about moving or forgetting one’s current life, but about being emotionally enriched by the experience of Brittany. The desire to change thus mutates, over time, into a desire to become someone else, whether that means starting a training course, setting up a business… or moving to Brittany.

Some will see it as a sign of eternal dissatisfaction that constant exposure to the lives of others only amplifies. To compare oneself is to re-evaluate oneself. Others will see it as a confirmation of people’s desire for self-affirmation. The desire to change as a sign of character. Just like driving an SUV, running a marathon or taking up MMA.

Unless it is yet another fear, as inexplicable as it is contemporary, of missing out on oneself. The ultimate FOMO.