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.

November hasn’t long remained an underused month, a waiting room squeezed between October’s taxes (something to get over) and Christmas (something to look forward to). Now it’s the month of Advent calendars and Black Friday. Two ways to treat yourself. By regressing and letting yourself go.

You might wonder why Black Friday has provoked so much aggression, when it could simply be seen as a new sales period to calm people‘s spirits. The desire to consume has always needed a trigger. Today, more than ever. In fact, is there still a consumer out there today who buys something at the listed price?

Could it be that Black Friday is the 2.0 replacement for the good old white sale, which drifted from the linens to the snowy slopes and ended up melting away? Black Friday has chosen the pre-holiday period to express its vocation: to be the antechamber to Christmas. Christmas in private sales mode. Why not? After all, what do most consumers do during the Black Friday period other than buy the things they want to put under the Christmas tree? What is bought today will not be bought tomorrow. It is more of a zero-sum game than it might seem, given the race for bargains.

Black Friday is also the time when consumerism becomes THE topic of the moment. It’s a sort of national consumer festival, which, with its excessive promises of bargains, paradoxically leads everyone to question their own needs and certain brands to show their determination not to take part in the debauchery… all the while ensuring their presence… Because Black Friday can accommodate all kinds of discourse, as long as the communion is on the altar of consumerism.

Some colour it green and rename it Green Friday, others call it Repair Friday and use it to promote their reconditioning and maintenance services. Here, it’s a Black Friday dedicated to Made in France, renamed Tricoloured Days, and there, a Black Friday promoting ethical and ecological purchases to raise awareness about the effects of our consumption on the planet and on workers.

It is an understatement to say that the moment stimulates creativity and reflection on consumption. Is it not the ecumenical nature of Black Friday that is behind its success?

Between the ‘festive tables’ and pages of ‘gift ideas’, the Advent calendar has found its place in the category of end-of-year seasonal tropes. Some might have thought that such a ‘concept’, as costly as it is a symbol of hyper-consumption that is fairly irresponsible, would have collapsed against the walls of budgetary tension and environmental awareness, but this is not the case. On the contrary.

The Advent calendar, which has traditionally been found at the end of supermarkets’ display shelves, has now easily established itself in the world of luxury beauty products, where it accounts for a quarter of sales in its category, behind chocolates. So what is this success all about?

Firstly, the desire of the brands to build lasting relationships with their consumers. And when it comes to long-lasting relationships, the Advent calendar is a champion, because every day for several weeks, thanks to an ‘expected surprise’ effect, its buyer is led to think about the brand that created it. The Advent calendar thus becomes the setting for a new routine, with gestures to be repeated every day until the final revelation. It’s hardly surprising that it has such a strong presence in the world of beauty.

The success of the Advent calendar also reveals a desire for rarity, sought after for its ability to quickly become a collector’s item and thus a source of hard, cold profit. Access to mass consumption is no longer enough. It is now rarity that stimulates desire, because rarity prolongs the life of products, whereas excessive presence causes them to fall into indifference. What’s really behind each of the boxes in the calendar? Flagship products or runners-up? Miniatures, samples or trial doses? The world of small formats is no exception to the segmentation of supply. Here’s the Advent calendar, assessed by beauty experts according to its market value. The merchants of the temple’s victory.

The success of Advent calendars lies in their ability to frantically resurrect buried childhood emotions. On social media, everything is shown, everything is opened, with no respect for chronology, in an excessive exercise oscillating between wise ‘unboxing’ and hysterical ‘haul’, both of which generate short-lived emotions.

But wasn’t learning patience the main virtue of the Advent calendar?

After six years of battle, the social and cultural practices associated with France’s bistros and cafés are now included in the national inventory of intangible cultural heritage. The next step is UNESCO. This determination to preserve this heritage is cause for rejoicing, given that the model of the French bistro, with its cheerful owner, waiters and regulars who provide the atmosphere, seems to be under threat.

A bistro is first and foremost a bar where everyone can sit down, it’s a catalyst for social interaction, an open space where people from all social classes can meet, an informal way of getting together that is one of the attractions of our country, says the president of the association behind this classification, himself the owner of an establishment. Can the bistro still be a place for social diversity, with daily specials priced 18 euros? What about the social mix in the face of a fast-food offer marketed to appeal to younger customers, and options tailored to an international clientele fuelled by brunch at all hours? And let’s not forget the surge in coffee shops (which are probably less mixed than Unesco would like), the vitality of bakeries and the proliferation of dark kitchens, which are taking a (good) chunk of their clientele away from bistros.

To stay in the limelight without becoming a backdrop for Emily’s passing through Paris, bistros need to enhance their ambience as much as the quality of what they offer. Caned bistro chairs on the pavement and façades covered in plastic flowers as Instagram gimmicks will not be enough.

Many bistros, in villages and town centres alike, are already doing just that, improvising themselves as venues for exhibitions, festivals or events such as the recently relaunched Course des Garçons de Café. Some are also PMUs (off-track betting), as Fooding reminds us with the publication of its first guide, ‘PMU, the 100 bars that make up France’. Following in the footsteps of the Relais Routiers guide, this is proof that authenticity as seen by gentri-fooders is still to be found on the popular side. It makes you wonder. Especially when this is threatened by the mere presence of guidebook buyers, driven by the idea of making the reputedly old-fashioned trendy…

Bistro or PMU bar, everyone is chasing their fantasy of being perceived as a place for sharing and authenticity. But wouldn’t stating this immediately prevent it from becoming reality?

Although the number of Asian restaurants has increased by 20% in the last five years, they are still far from dethroning Italian cuisine, which is constantly reinventing itself to maintain its appeal at the highest level.

Even if they’re still the best-sellers, the Margherita, Regina and Calzone pizzas of today have little in common with those of yesterday. And not just because of their price, now never less than fifteen euros… Here they are in gluten-free versions, white or red, with a thinner, crispier dough that’s easier to digest (big stakes) or sold al taglio, by the slice, or even oval-shaped with a dough made from three flours, wheat, rice and fermented soya, rich in protein and low in gluten: the pinsa romana, which is said to date back to Antiquity and which is currently all the rage. Italian gastronomy is also the art of producing something new from something familiar. A strategy that pays off.

Since Big Mamma’s resounding entrance on the market ten years ago, which now boasts 24 establishments in France, Italian cuisine is no longer just about recipes, but also about origins, equipment and atmosphere. Olive oils are regarded as vintages, the quest for an exceptional burrata or mozzarella becomes an obsession for some, vegetables and charcuterie are only accepted if they are sourced, and traditional desserts are constantly being revamped to keep boredom at bay. The menus are regularly renewed to surprise even more, because if Italian restaurants are still on a roll, it’s also because the French are travelling more and discovering new regions. At the moment, Apulia is in their favour.

In terms of equipment, the Neapolitan mosaic dome oven is the star attraction. It has become the key player in the experience, often taking pride of place at the heart of the dining room. It is the sign of authenticity and mastery. In terms of atmosphere, Italian cuisine is not to be outdone, with spritzes now available in a range of colours and aperitivos, which are becoming more and more common on menus, ensuring an all-day offer.

A variety of recipes, an ever-changing experience, good humour, a lilting accent and a meticulous decor : no other cuisine can match the promise of Italian cuisine.

They have sprung up in every city in the same way as coffee shops, and are now part of the urban landscape of the new world – especially around 8.30am and 4.30pm. These are the cargo bikes, with their yellow, blue or orange frames and one, two or sometimes three children on the back, all wearing colourful helmets. And off they go, the whole family parading through the city.

It is hard to say who’s prouder when you see them: the dad (often) in daddy cool mode holding the handlebars, or the children, who are only too happy to experience a fun form of transport that is not yet available to everyone, and which offers them a new way of experiencing the city. With cargo bikes, it’s all about amazement. But what did we do before? Those born in the second half of the 20th century will be sure to ask; before, you got in your car and had to deal with traffic jams. Not much fun. With cargo bikes, getting to and from school becomes a shared experience.

Although they have always existed in northern Europe, their proliferation in France dates back to the end of the health crisis, justified by the idea of adopting new, more responsible habits and accelerated by a ‘snowball’ effect of the kind that school pick-up time can produce.

In the space of just a few months, the cargo bike has become the official mode of transport for ‘bobo’ families, with all that this implies in terms of purchasing power and the desire to become a model of behaviour; and it reflects three major expectations. Firstly, a desire to re-enchant everyday life, which has been familiar for years, but which always finds a way to renew itself so that it never loses its appeal. The cargo bike as a new urban ritual. Secondly, a new sign of distinction. And finally, a desire to show off one’s family, a way of setting an example for others. It’s a phenomenon that we have already seen in interior design magazines, and now we are seeing it with bicycles.

The success of the cargo bike confirms – If confirmation were still needed – the strength of the aesthetic relationship we now have with the world. After all, you cannot buy a cargo bike without buying all the accessories that go with it, all designed to give the crew the most stylish look possible: rain jackets, boots, gloves, helmets, rucksacks… A stylistic vehicle ready to join the flood of images on social media. To exist is first and foremost to be seen.

From the opening ceremony of the Rugby World Cup (in traditional mode) to that of the Olympic Games (in woke mode), the croissant is as essential as Edith Piaf and the accordion when it comes to representing France. And so much for clichés. Because the croissant has never stopped reinventing itself, proving that the durability of a tradition depends on its ability to appear in new forms.

After cronuts born in 2013 (hybrids of croissants and donuts, for those who missed them), croissants rolls filled with cream, crookies (croissant + cookie) and crogers (can you guess?), we now have coloured croissants, in charcoal black, bright red or pistachio green, or XXL croissants (after the minis) dreamt up by Philippe Conticini in 2023, before the idea was taken up everywhere because of its instagrammability. A savoury version of the croissant is also making its appearance on plates, thanks to Amandine Chaignot’s initiative at Café de Luce, where she is offering it topped with snails (the next onion soup for tourists?), salmon and leeks or, expectedly, ham and comté. An initiative much appreciated by Fooding, which likes nothing better than to cook up tradition on a modern fire.

As well as being a national symbol, the croissant is also a symbol of the revival of the bakery industry which, since the health crisis, is doing better than ever, taking in, on the one hand, lunches that have become too expensive and, on the other, all the teleworkers looking for economical solutions in the absence of a canteen. Inflation has reshuffled the deck and changed habits. Today, bakeries are being sought after by investors hungry for new concepts (French Bastards, Urban Bakery and others). Who would have thought?

This summer, Eric Kayser opened Baguett, near the Place des Victoires, with the ambition of reinventing the baguette by developing sweet versions (with matcha tea, pink pralines or Carambar) and offering metre-long sandwiches sold by the slice. The idea was worth thinking about. And it is a safe bet that the idea will soon catch on. With its creative offerings prepared with fresh ingredients, capable of instantly sparking desire, the bakery has a bright future in the face of other fast-food concepts.

And to think that at the end of the last century, it seemed doomed, overcome by hypermarkets offering hot bread at all hours without having to drop the shopping trolley.

Nostalgia is proving to be the most powerful anti-depressant of the moment, reflecting a desire to escape the present without looking forward to an unglamorous future. The enthusiasm created by the launch of the electric R5, which has become the undisputed star of the current Paris Motor Show, is striking proof of this.

Rediscovering the emotions of the past through a shape is a good way to feel younger. To keep this promise, the Renault 5 electric has not been sparing with little emotion-generating touches, just like the New Beetle did (with its soliflore on the dashboard, which has now disappeared) and the Mini and other Fiat 500s: vitamin-rich colours in reference to the pop years, a welcome jingle in the cabin (a first) imagined by Jean-Michel Jarre, and a wicker baguette holder that can be clipped onto the dashboard to emphasise its French origins. And all that to the captivating music of Daft Punk. Why hesitate to go electric?

Encouraged by the popularity of the R5, Renault has just announced the return of the R4 in an updated version that will become a ‘poyvalent family car’. The marketing bonanza is not far off. Didn’t the trendy designer Ora-ïto present his reinterpretation of the R17, far from being an iconic model, which we now look at with the eyes of desire?

If Citroën has squandered the fantasy power of its DS with models that bear its name without referring to the shape of its rolling myth, no one will be surprised to see a 504 coupé (already seen in concept cars) or even, why not, a reassuring 404 saloon revisited. Let’s also bet on the return of saloons in response to SUVs, which are becoming increasingly uniform as they become more global.

In the meantime, we can once again hear the heady chorus of Fraîcheur de vivre in the Hollywood chewing-gum ads and continue to make little volcanoes to put juice in with our Mousline purée before going for a siesta in our Lafuma Relax chair (dressed in Retro 2024 fabric) with a choice of Schnock magazine devoted to Pompidou or Vieux, the second issue of which has just come out with Iggy Pop on the cover.

Welcome to the world of yesterday, never far from Anne Germain’s land of happy children and gentle monsters.

They are sprouting like mushrooms after the rain, and contribute to the globalization of tastes, both in terms of flavor and aesthetics. These are coffee shops. Small spaces, with bold design architecture, a concise and easily readable menu (the five current staples, always the same: espresso, filter coffee, cappuccino, flat white, matcha), minimal staff, (very) few chairs and tables, and lots of empty space. We are far from the local bar with its zinc counter, but the target clientele is different.

Here, the aim is not to create a sense of territorial belonging, to a neighbourhood or village, but a sense of community. The first stems from the place, the second from the symbols. While the neighborhood café provides comfort and routine (with its regulars who are part of the décor), the coffee shop offers recognition, embodied by a particular way of dressing (dominated by black), a central interest (primarily visual: photography, design, architecture), and an easily identifiable non-local origin: three characteristics of the targeted population.

The neighbourhood café amplifies traditional codes, while the coffee shop creates the codes of tomorrow, appreciated by a globalized, transient audience rather than a settled one, seeking places to stop without ever feeling out of place. Places that, over time and through the migration of images on social networks, become both landmarks and hideouts for them.

Coffee shops primarily target two groups. Young people attuned to standardized aesthetics that give them the feeling of being in sync with current tastes, using TikTok and Instagram as their compasses. And women who don’t feel comfortable going alone to traditional cafés – often suspected of harboring rampant masculism – and who are also drawn to “inspiring” and “exotic” aesthetics.

Coffee shops also owe their success to their names. Short, international, and, above all, quirky: White, Grave, Nuances, Les Crèmes, Cuvée Noire… Names conceived like labels, with sleek typography, ready to be displayed on all kinds of merchandise, from mugs to caps to coffee bags. Here, details are far from trivial.

A design and vocabulary capable of producing new worlds of imagination and new experiences that, in turn, will generate new conversations and memories: trickle-down theory in its trendy version.

What town doesn’t have its own bouillon (traditional and simple French restaurant)? And never mind if it bears no historical truth. Sometimes a bouillon grows on a suburban car park, sometimes its surface area is no bigger than that of a traditional restaurant, but it doesn’t matter, because a bouillon is, first and foremost, a world of imagination.

A good-natured and generous world, made up of home-cooked dishes (those you recognise because you have eaten them at home) and a warm atmosphere in large rooms where the tables are close together. All at affordable prices, that take any worries out of the equation. Very important. Egg mayo, sausages and mash, crème caramel: the winning combo. To think that twenty years ago, molecular cuisine was on everyone’s lips.

The word bistro, overused by restaurant chains in search of authenticity, is now only a subject of fantasy for Americans, who still think of St Germain des Prés as the home of jazz and literature. Wine bars, once at the forefront, have now lost their previous popularity for being too elitist. Steakhouses have bowed out, and the last remaining Flunch restaurants are trying to reinvent themselves to delay their demise. Recently, it was the food trucks and then the food courts that were in the spotlight, but it seems that the tide is turning. How many of them have been called to the rescue to reenchant shopping centres on the brink of extinction? The promise of experience and conviviality was not always there, even though it has become the main expectation of consumers. Now is the time for bouillons.

Here, just like at McDonald’s, people come as they are. Families, young couples, grannies, managers, blue collar workers, shopkeepers – the whole world comes here. Le bouillon is a triumph of diversity and intergenerational appeal, the two most powerful engines in marketing today. Three generations around the same table and the fantasy of reunited families becomes a reality.

Le bouillon is also about organisation and effervescent efficiency, because here, whether in the dining room or in the kitchen, everything is streamlined, calculated, planned, calibrated and timed, without ever losing its promised ambience. Because the bouillon is not just a form of catering, it’s first and foremost a show. And as with all shows, everything that goes on behind the scenes must remain invisible and should serve to enhance the customer’s experience. A lesson for many retailers.