I’d
been living in Paris for three years. Except, I hadn’t really been
‘living’ there at all. I worked at the technology company IBM in the
city’s La Défense business district, inside an expat bubble. My bosses
were American; like them, I grabbed a quick sandwich at lunch and was
always on call.
My
world began to change the day my friend Laura pulled me aside. Laura
was also an expat, but of a very different sort. From Italy, she had
blended seamlessly into French life. While she looked impossibly chic in
her Louboutins and tailored suit, I had the unkempt appearance of an
overworked Canadian on my sixth coffee.
‘Shemin,
this is ridiculous,’ she said, sweeping into my office. ‘Come with me
and see how one should have lunch in a civilised country.’ She dragged
me to the cafeteria as I mentally tallied how long I could justify being
away. I usually took ten minutes to grab a panini. Stepping inside, I
knew I’d need longer.
A
French cafeteria is not like those from school. The meal is three
courses, à la carte, and there was a fifteen-minute queue just to find a
seat. Still, the room was alive with conversation, the air infused with
butter, shallots and chocolate. I ordered salad vinaigrette, steak
frites and a macaron and settled in.
I
expected Laura and I would chat alone. Instead, we sat with a mélange
of people from across the office. I tried to steer the conversation
towards business, but no one bit. Instead, people talked about travel,
family, life and love.
Eventually,
someone asked what I did. I mentioned a business problem my bosses had
been trying to crack for four months. ‘You should talk to Pierre,’
someone said. When Pierre eventually sauntered over, with the slow,
satisfied steps of someone well nourished by a good meal, he knew the
solution.
After
a café allongé, my ten-minute lunch had become an hour and a half, and
when I finally returned to my desk, I dreaded how far behind I must be.
Yet that evening, I realised I’d achieved more than I had in months. I
was invigorated by time away from work, returning with energy and focus
I’d been missing.
That
lunch changed my life. It captured everything I came to admire about
French culture: real conversation, prioritising pleasure, and savouring
meals. When I moved back to the US seven years later, I brought back
something far more valuable than a couture wardrobe: a blueprint for
better living – that all starts with a good meal...
1. Savour every bite
In
France, lunch is an opportunity to slow down and savour the moment as
much as the food. Instead of rushing to the next bite, people put down
their utensils, chew fully and use their free hand to gesticulate while
they talk. Because they eat slowly, they eat less and feel fuller for
longer (I never saw anyone snacking). These longer, more social meals
make work more enjoyable and build stronger relationships, so I now make
a point of having lunch with every new person who joins my department.
Even if I’m eating alone, I leave my desk, put away technology and use a
knife and fork. I make meals matter.
2. Take holiday seriously
Traditionally,
the French take all of August off; Les Grandes Vacances is a nationwide
pause that allows everyone to recharge. That may be a step too far for
British and American employers, but we can still learn from this
prioritisation of life over work. I plan my annual holiday by 5th
January and communicate it clearly. I want those around me to know I see
vacation as an asset that everyone should take advantage of. Ideally, I
take three weeks at a time; it takes almost a week for the body to let
go of stress and a second to recuperate. A third can be spent slowly
preparing to return.
3. Never work weekends
The
French take time away seriously enough that it’s illegal to email
workers after business hours. While in the UK and America, we fill
weekends with errands and admin, the French prioritise friends and
hobbies (my French colleagues wouldn’t dream of dusting the apartment on
a Saturday). I now use weekends for long walks, gallery or museum
visits, or learning new recipes, arriving at work on Monday refreshed
and ready for the week ahead.
4. Cultivate conversation
The
French often skip small talk in favour of philosophy and debate. Dinner
parties (which never went out of style in Paris) are lively, with
guests rotated every month to keep perspectives fresh. Strong opinions
and criticism aren’t seen as rude; the French love to argue because they
love to resolve disputes. I lost count of the number of couples I saw
arguing in public (often inviting friends to weigh in). While the
British and American custom of shallow chit-chat may seem more pleasant,
it’s these French-style honest conversations that build trust, openness
and stronger relationships.
5. Practise moderation
Our
Paris apartment was regal in its beauty, with a view of the Eiffel
Tower. It was also quintessentially Parisian in its size. Yet, it never
felt cramped. Living this way taught us to examine everything we owned;
it all had to have a purpose. Every plate was used and there were no
spare rooms that no one visited. Plus, a smaller house means less
cleaning. A smaller car takes less gas. Just because you can afford
something doesn’t mean it’s better. This mindset is reinforced in France
by an annual ritual of collective decluttering; each year on
vide-grenier day, city workers pick up large items off the curb for
free. I might now live in a house in Connecticut, bu tit's a practice I
uphold, every year on the third Sunday in May, when we go through
clothes, decorations and furniture, then schedule a donation or removal
service.
6. Shop like a Parisian
Walk
down any boulevard and you’ll notice women carrying Chanel bags. It
isn’t that French women are richer than us; they simply buy fewer, nicer
things. Instead of buying ten bags over a decade, they buy one and use
it for a lifetime. I apply the same logic to makeup. A friend has thirty
lipsticks. I have two. Our habit of overconsumption consumes so much
time: consider how much of it you’ve wasted going shopping for clothing
without buying anything. In France, you only enter a shop when you know
what you need. The approach of less-but-better also reduces stress and
‘decision fatigue’: the thirty minutes I once spent choosing between
blouses is now used for reading or chatting to a friend.
7. Master your métier
While
Americans are encouraged to grasp at every promotion, in France,
careers progress more slowly. One benefit of slowing down is the chance
to find what makes you distinct. The French call this métier; a
profession shaped by personal skill, purpose, and meaning. Essentially,
you take whatever position you have and add an adjective that makes it
unique to you. A plumber who loves Aristotle is the philosophical
plumber; a designer who loves food is the gourmand designer. I’m the
financial executive with a passion for improving life-work balance. It
makes me unique. If you can find your métier and articulate it, you’ll
improve your perspective, opening new opportunities for success.
8. Get to know your neighbours
I
spoke to the same baker and fruit seller daily. When my fruit seller
heard I was sick, he left my regular order at my door. This is the
French way: knowing your neighbours and treating community as essential.
Most Americans and British people barely know the people living next
door. We wave, we smile, but we live isolated lives. Yet we crave
connection. Now, I make a real point of introducing myself to neighbours
and having a chat. The result? Some are now good friends. One recently
fixed the vents on the side of my house.
9. Enlist le village
French
parents rely on childcare without guilt, using camps and community
support (this is not only seen as necessary but positive, encouraging
independence). More broadly, this reflects a willingness to share
responsibility and use time intentionally. The old me exhausted myself
trying to do everything, leaving little space for enjoyment. Now, I give
myself permission to embrace support, whether from family or if I can,
paid professionals. It helps to make a list of everything you do –
professionally and personally – and break it into what you have to do,
what you like to do, and what you don’t like doing. For that third
category, consider your options.
10. Enlarge your pie
Many
Americans fear retirement because work defines them. If you think of
life like a pie, instead of work taking up almost the whole thing, as it
does in the UK and US, in France, the other 'slices' that give life
most of its purpose (family, friends, new experiences, and outside
interests) are much larger. This doesn’t shrink work; it enlarges life.
To increase resilience (and joy), we must invest in areas of interest
beyond work.
The Paris Paradox by Shemin Nurmohamed is out now (Forbes Books)
https://www.redonline.co.uk/wellbeing/a70533621/the-10-rules-all-chic-french-women-swear-by/
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