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My Favorite Café Is...

My Favorite Café Is…L’Escale

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by Cori Coppola

[Trouvez ci-dessous la version française]

The summer of 1982 was the beginning of a lifelong love affair with the city that would eventually become my home. Truth be told, it was love at first sight. On one of my many long walks through Paris, at the tender age of nine, I made a wish in my heart that one day I would be reunited with my true love. Sometimes wishes do come true, and as a young adult I did return for a couple of years, but it wasn’t until my late twenties that desire and fate bonded together to open the way for my dream to come true.

No matter how long I live here, I still find childhood ghosts around almost every corner. Originally, I had been brought over to be a summer companion and playmate for a little French girl who was about my age. But I loved my time in France so much, that by the end of the summer I couldn’t bear to leave. I begged my mother and big sister to let me stay. I was allowed to stay and enroll in the international class of a public school in the 6th arrondissement.

©Cori Coppola

At that time, schools had Wednesday off and a half day of school on Saturday morning. While I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of getting up early on the weekend to go to school, I did love the freedom that came along with it. Because everyone was busy on the weekend, I was allowed to roam free after school. And I almost always did the same thing. I would wander the city streets, together with my friend from school, Dédé. We almost always ended up on the Île Saint-Louis, where we would stop and buy a Coke with a little something to nibble on at one of the cafés. Afterwards, we would take our time strolling over to the Centre Pompidou—to this day, still my favorite museum in the city.

The Île Saint-Louis has always been one of the most romantic and charming spots to capture the quaint feel of old Paris, with used-book sellers, and lovers rapt in one another’s gaze sitting along the embankment. From nearly all the cafés on the île, one always has spectacular views, but perhaps my favorite place was l’Escale, a timeless little brasserie sitting on the corner of Rue des Deux Ponts, with a view directly over the Pont de la Tournelle facing the Tour d’Argent, a famously expensive restaurant that specializes in serving duck.

©Cori Coppila

L’Escale has been around for more than sixty years or so, and is currently owned by the Tardieu family, who bought it in 1989. Portraits cover the walls of the little café and take one back to a Paris gone by. And although this cafe may not be the most picturesque, or the one most likely to conjure the literary memories of Hemingway like Café de Flore and La Palette, l’Escale still evokes a feeling of home for me. A few red booths run along the back, while small tables for two sit before floor-length windows, and against a wall lined with mirrors, giving the illusion of a larger space. In the center of the small space is the gold-rimmed bar, where from my childhood I recall men smoking and taking an espresso or a glass of wine, while chattering away to one another. Dédé and I would sit at one of the smaller tables drinking Cokes while gossiping and discussing our plans for the remaining weekend. Just two American girls growing up in Paris, mini-flâneures—both from California, where one would be always packed up in the back of a car or station wagon, only to look out a window for endless hours at freeways—who both loved the adventure and freedom of being on foot and on our own.

There is a sign to let you know that there is no WiFi and to suggest that you actually talk with the person in front of you.

©Cori Coppola

The current owners were unable to tell me much about the restaurant, other than it had previously been owned by another family who had bought it from someone else in 1970. The interior certainly looks to have been given a facelift during that time. There are few architectural elements to properly date it, hanging lights that hover over the bar and a traditional black chalkboard that lists each day’s offerings. There is also a sign in French to let you know that there is no WiFi and to suggest that you instead enjoy your meal while actually talking with the person in front of you. I have found this same type of sign in several Parisian cafés, who rightly believe that one should appreciate both one’s meal and one’s companions rather than spending time FaceTiming and surfing the web on the phone, ignoring any and all live company and entertainment.

I wish I had more of a history about the restaurant itself, but the friendly staff, who only speak French, did not have much to say. There is no website with glorious tales of who had eaten there or sat at the bar, and no glory by association except perhaps from those of us who have had the pleasure of sitting for an hour or two and just lazily watching the boats pass under the bridge and up at the sky above, a place to dream over your café au lait.

L’Escale serves a traditional brasserie menu, omelettes, salads, and other traditional French cuisine, and they have an excellent selection of wines.

L’Escale, 1 Rue de Deux Ponts, 4ème
Tel: +33 1 43 54 94 23
Métro: Pont Marie or Sully-Morland (line 7)

CORI COPPOLA is the producer of the documentary The House of Cardin, directed by P. David Ebersole and Todd Hughes. She has worked as a coordinator and VFX producer for films and commercials both in the U.S. and in France, and is the official English-language biographer of the Japanese fashion designer Yumi Katsura. Ms. Coppola, who originally hails from Hollywood has lived in Paris for over 19 years. She is the granddaughter of famed opera conductor Anton Coppola, and part of the celebrated Coppola family. Her passion for art, fashion, and film continues to inspire and drive her work.

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VERSION FRANÇAISE

©Cori Coppola

L’été 1982 a été le début d’une histoire d’amour avec la ville qui allait devenir ma maison. À vrai dire, c’était le coup de foudre. Lors d’une de mes nombreuses longues promenades à travers Paris, à l’âge tendre de neuf ans, j’ai fait un vœu dans mon cœur qu’un jour je serais réuni avec mon véritable amour. Parfois, les souhaits se réalisent, et en tant que jeune adulte, je suis revenu pendant quelques années, mais ce n’est que vers la fin de la vingtaine que le désir et le destin se sont liés pour ouvrir la voie à la réalisation de mon rêve.

Peu importe combien de temps je vis ici, je trouve toujours des fantômes d’enfance dans presque tous les coins. À l’origine, j’avais été amené à être un compagnon d’été et un compagnon de jeu pour une petite fille française qui avait à peu près mon âge. Mais j’aimais tellement mon séjour en France qu’à la fin de l’été, je ne pouvais plus supporter de partir. J’ai supplié ma mère et ma grande sœur de me laisser rester. J’ai été autorisée à rester et à m’inscrire dans la classe internationale d’une école publique du 6e arrondissement.

À cette époque, les écoles avaient un mercredi de congé et une demi-journée d’école le samedi matin. Bien que je n’étais pas ravie à l’idée de me lever tôt le week-end pour aller à l’école, j’aimais la liberté qui l’accompagnait. Parce que tout le monde était occupé le week-end, j’ai été autorisé à me promener librement après l’école. Et j’ai presque toujours fait la même chose. Je déambulais dans les rues de la ville avec mon ami de l’école, Dédé. Nous nous retrouvions presque toujours sur Île Saint-Louis, où nous nous arrêtions et achetions un coca avec un petit quelque chose à grignoter dans l’un des petits cafés. Ensuite, nous prenions notre temps pour nous promener au Centre Pompidou—à ce jour, toujours mon musée préféré de la ville.

©Cori Coppola

L’Île Saint-Louis a toujours été l’un des endroits les plus romantiques et les plus charmants pour capturer l’atmosphère pittoresque du vieux Paris, avec des vendeurs de livres d’occasion et des amoureux ravis dans le regard de l’autre assis le long des quais inférieurs. De presque tous les cafés de l’île, on a toujours eu des vues spectaculaires, mais mon endroit préféré était peut-être l’Escale, une petite brasserie intemporelle située au coin de la rue des Deux Ponts, avec une vue directement sur le Pont de la Tournelle qui est en face la Tour d’Argent, un restaurant réputé cher spécialisé dans le service du canard.

L’Escale existe depuis plus de soixante ans environ et appartient actuellement à la famille Tardieu, qui l’a achetée en 1989. Des portraits recouvrent les murs du petit café et en ramènent un dans un Paris révolu. Et bien que ce café ne soit pas le plus pittoresque ou le plus susceptible d’évoquer les souvenirs littéraires d’Hemingway comme le font Café de Flore et La Palette, l’Escale évoque toujours un sentiment de chez moi. Quelques petites cabines rouges courent le long du dos, tandis que de petites tables pour deux sont assises devant des fenêtres au sol et contre un mur garni de miroirs, donnant l’illusion d’un espace plus grand. Au centre du petit espace se trouve le bar bordé d’or, où depuis mon enfance je me souviens d’hommes qui fumaient et prenaient un expresso ou un verre de vin, tout en bavardant. Dédé et moi nous asseyions à l’une des plus petites tables pour boire du coca tout en bavardant et en discutant de nos plans pour le week-end restant. Juste deux filles américaines qui grandissaient à Paris, des mini-flâneures —toutes deux de Californie, où l’une était toujours emballée à l’arrière d’une voiture ou d’un break, seulement pour regarder par la fenêtre pendant des heures sans fin sur les autoroutes—qui aimaient toutes les deux l’aventure et la liberté d’être à pied et seul.

De presque tous les cafés de l’île, on a toujours eu des vues spectaculaires, mais mon endroit préféré était peut-être l’Escale

©Cori Coppola

Les propriétaires actuels n’ont pas pu m’en dire plus sur le restaurant, à part qu’il appartenait auparavant à une autre famille qui l’avait acheté à quelqu’un d’autre en 1970. L’intérieur semble certainement avoir subi un lifting pendant cette période. Il y a peu d’éléments architecturaux pour la dater correctement, des lampes suspendues qui planent au-dessus du bar et un tableau noir traditionnel qui répertorie les offres de chaque jour. Il y a aussi un panneau en français pour vous informer qu’il n’y a pas de WiFi et pour vous suggérer de profiter plutôt de votre repas tout en discutant avec la personne devant vous. J’ai trouvé ce même type de signe dans plusieurs cafés parisiens, qui croient à juste titre que l’on devrait apprécier à la fois son repas et ses compagnons plutôt que de passer du temps sur FaceTiming et de surfer sur le Web par téléphone et d’ignorer toute compagnie et divertissement en direct.

©Cori Coppola

J’aimerais avoir plus d’histoire sur le restaurant lui-même, mais le personnel amical, qui ne parle que français, n’avait pas grand-chose à dire. Il n’y a pas de site Web avec des histoires glorieuses sur ceux qui y ont mangé ou qui se sont assis au bar, et aucune gloire par association, sauf peut-être de ceux d’entre nous qui ont eu le plaisir de s’asseoir pendant une heure ou deux et de regarder paresseusement les bateaux passer sous le pont et au-dessus du ciel, un endroit pour rêver au-dessus de votre café au lait.

L’Escale propose un menu traditionnel de brasserie d’omelettes, de salades et d’autres plats traditionnels français, et ils ont également une excellente sélection de vins.

L’Escale, 1 Rue de Deux Ponts, 4ème
Tel: +33 1 43 54 94 23
Métro: Pont Marie ou Sully-Morland (ligne 7)

CORI COPPOLA is the producer of the documentary The House of Cardin, directed by P. David Ebersole and Todd Hughes. She has worked as a coordinator and VFX producer for films and commercials both in the U.S. and in France, and is the official English-language biographer of the Japanese fashion designer Yumi Katsura. Ms. Coppola, who originally hails from Hollywood has lived in Paris for over 19 years. She is the granddaughter of famed opera conductor Anton Coppola, and part of the celebrated Coppola family. Her passion for art, fashion, and film continues to inspire and drive her work.

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Lisa Anselmo, My Favorite Café Is...

My Favorite Café Is…Treize au Jardin

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Penelope Fletcher of The Red Wheelbarrow Bookstore, as told to Lisa Anselmo

Treize au Jardin is just down the street from my bookstore, The Red Wheelbarrow, in the 6th arrondissement. Owners Kajsa von Sydow (Swedish) and Laurel Sanderson (American) bring the friendliness of both of their cultures to this beautiful café, which sits just opposite Le Jardin du Luxembourg. Kajsa, who is often the welcoming face greeting you at the door, is partly responsible for the graceful and flowery décor, and comfortableness of the café: the private, intimate places to cozy up in; the large, round tables for groups of friends to gather—everything is extremely well thought out in this beautiful café.

The charming decor of Treize au Jardin. ©Lisa Anselmo
A cozy corner awaits. ©Lisa Anselmo

But a great part of the attraction to Treize au Jardin is the food, which celebrates the American South. That’s Laurel’s domain. Biscuits, eggs Benedict, chicken and grits, craft cocktails and wholesome alcohol-free drinks, one called Liquid Sunshine. All the food is organic and responsibly sourced, prepared by chefs with years of experience.  

I like the Artichoke Heart Pie, and the quinoa salad. Almost every day for lunch, I order their delicious daily soup, and a hot biscuit. But most people go for their Southern brunches (which are served all day, every day), or the Pecan Chicken. Or, their special Pulled Pork. They also make delicious cake, by the way.

The cake! Just one of the many delectable items on the all-organic menu. ©Lisa Anselmo

The café is popular with locals—couples having a romantic rendez-vous; work colleagues conducting lunch meetings; families; writers; people looking for a café to read or work in—or even to propose in; American expats who want a taste of home; Parisians who want to travel to the American South for an hour or two. All of us.

But Treize au Jardin is a special place to me, personally. I owe the location of my bookstore to them. Laurel, who previously ran the much-adored Treize…A Baker’s Dozen on Rue des Saints Pères in the 7th, and a cake shop before that, is a friend from way back. We had often talked casually about doing a café-bookshop, and when they found their location on Rue de Medicis, there was an old librairie–book store—near them that was also going up for rent. Laurel told me about it and I swooped in and grabbed it. Laurel and Kajsa opened their café early summer 2018; we opened later that same summer.

Treize au Jardin. ©Lisa Anselmo

I love having a café just next to the bookshop, and it’s wonderful how we share many of  the same customers. There are families that eat at the café almost every weekend, and the children will rush into the bookshop to choose books before lunch arrives. I often send my own customers to the café, who report back how pleased they are with my recommendation. Our two businesses also help each other out in little ways, like when we run out of the rolls of paper for our credit card machines.

Cafés create community in a different way from bookshops, but in a way that compliments them. On Friday evenings, Treize au Jardin has great live music, which makes a wonderful end to our week at the bookshop. And of course, we at the Red Wheelbarrow stop over at Treize several times a day for their delicious coffee.

It’s a really warm feeling to have good friends running businesses near each other. We’re a community serving a community. •

All the hand-lettered signs at the café are done by the sister of co-owner Laurel. ©Lisa Anselmo
The terrace is non-smoking. A rarity in Paris. ©Lisa Anselmo

Treize au Jardin, 5 Rue de Médicis, 6ème
Brunch Menu; Boozy Teatime; Live Music Fridays

PENELOPE FLETCHER is the owner of The Red Wheelbarrow, a beloved Anglophone bookstore on 9 Rue de Medicis, just opposite the beautiful Luxembourg Gardens in the 6th arrondissement. Follow the shop on Instagram.

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Café Culture, Essays, Lisa Anselmo, Paris Cafés

The Local Café: Where Everyone Can Belong

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by Lisa Anselmo

I’m sitting in my local café at lunchtime, which I use as my office. The WiFi is excellent, the manager and waitstaff are welcoming and accommodating. There are no rules, no restrictions here, no signs warning, “Laptops Forbidden.” I’m able to adapt the café to suit my life as I need, and it’s as though that’s expected. No one is imposing an agenda on me; they want me to feel at home, to call this place my own. This is the beauty of the cafés and bistros of Paris: they are an extension of our homes, and an indispensable part of our lives.

The lunch crowd has arrived. Next to me is a young couple and their baby; across, sit three woman, one in a hijab; beside them, two men huddle over a laptop discussing what looks like architectural drawings. Just outside on the terrace, a small group of construction workers of various origin are no doubt taking a break from renovating a nearby apartment, their work togs covered in plaster dust and paint. 

The clientele at this café represents the makeup of the neighborhood: Jewish, Muslim, hipsters, Millennials, old-timers, and newcomers—all of us living in the same buildings together, our lives mingling on a daily basis.

Cafés are essential for local communities—inclusive public houses where everyone has a seat at the table. But Paris has lost 300 cafés since 2014.*

Cafés are a vital part of our diverse communities. ©Lisa Anselmo

This is what makes the local café so special—and so essential. It’s where the entire community gathers—regardless of income, origin, religion, education, political affiliation, or skin color. “The crucible of friendship,” says restaurateur Alain Fontaine of cafés and bistros. “The melting pot where everyone meets.” Fontaine is leading an initiative to attain UNESCO status for Paris’s beloved bistros. Cafés could use this boost as well.

Cafés are the ultimate democratizer, inclusive public houses where anyone can find their place at the table. It’s something we take for granted because they’ve always been here, serving our communities. But it’s changing. Cafés are closing, both in Paris, and in France at large.

Cafe closures have been making headlines for years. The French government is finally recognizing the problem.

LOSING THE HEART OF LOCAL LIFE

Cafés in small towns across France have been the most hard-hit, mainly due to dwindling populations, not in small part precipitated by a massive reduction in national rail routes, cutting off these towns from the main artery, so they wither and die. The local businesses close—and worse, the café, often the only one in the village, leaving the residents with no common meeting place. In a country with a culture of socializing around food and drink, this loss is devastating to a community. The French government has recently understood the impact of this on the heart of the people, and is investing 150 million euros to launch an ambitious initiative that gives grants to anyone willing to open or preserve a café in a small town. It’s a start.

But in Paris, where money talks and international trends have a strong impact, cafés here are not getting the same kind of aid. The corporate chain is king, as is the foreign investor. Tech start-ups are the only small business ventures anyone wants to talk about these days. Longstanding locally owned businesses have little recourse if they’re struggling, and few resources, often shouldering the lion’s share of taxes, stymied by one-sided labor laws, and struggling to pay ever-rising rents. Cafés, too, are feeling this pressure, and in recent years, there has been a spate of closures, particularly in gentrifying or touristy areas. Paris has lost 300 cafés in just the last four years. And, like in small towns, the local Parisian café is also the center of neighborhood life, and the closure of a popular café has the same devastating impact on the residents, particularly if it’s replaced with an upscale restaurant or trendy specialty shop geared more to tourists than locals.

A Brooklyn-style coffee house just opened in our neighborhood. While French-owned, everything is in English (or a sort of English). Not sure about the coffee. ©Lisa Anselmo

Cafés are also facing competition, at least in the minds of some, with the rise of the Brooklyn-style coffee house: small establishments known for artisanal beans brewed by English-speaking baristas. Often, these are owned by Aussies or Americans who’ve imported this coffee culture to Paris—at first as a response to their own dislike of Parisian café coffee, which many find bitter and wanting. But the trend has caught on in a city where all things Brooklyn are highly prized. And, if you’re a coffee-lover, these are a welcomed addition to the Paris food scene. They’re often cozy and friendly, and along with impeccable coffee, serve tasty treats like brownies, and avocado toast. If that’s your thing.

But we shouldn’t mistake these places for the new Paris café. For starters, they’re technically not cafés—they don’t keep café hours, for example—and the vibe is completely different from a classic café. The coffee house is not a place where you can stay for hours gabbing, drinking, and eating until midnight. They often have only three or four tables (some don’t allow laptops for this reason), and are more tranquil and solitary. People tend to go alone or with one other person, have their coffee and a brief pause or business chat, then move on. It’s about the coffee, not the experience.

And there’s something else decidedly different about these places: the demographic. White, young, educated, middle- to upper-class. Period. The most diverse thing about these coffee houses is that they serve vegan milk options.

SERVING (& PRESERVING) DIVERSE COMMUNITIES

Why should we care? Because these kind of upscale businesses are a sign of the changes in our communities, thanks to gentrification and rising rents. Whole neighborhoods are going upmarket, transforming in a few short years; restaurants and shops serve a new moneyed clientele. The Saint-Ambroise district in the 11th arrondissement is a perfect example of this. Suddenly, the working-class residents who have lived in these neighborhoods for decades can no longer afford to eat or shop in their own backyard, marginalized in the very quartier they call home.

I admit, as someone who blogs about Paris to an audience of a certain demographic, I have a nagging guilt about my own possible contribution to this change, real or imagined. Eight years ago, when I arrived in my sleepy neighborhood, a district somewhere between Charonne and Nation in the 11th, I was the only English-speaker around, and I liked it because I wanted to immerse myself in Paris life. I chose the area for its authentic local feel, something my New York neighborhood had long since lost. My Paris neighborhood was, and still is, home to a mix of young professionals, students, and families; the businesses are affordable and utilitarian. The cafés, if not always pretty, are welcoming and cheap. I’ve often called this area the last patch of real Paris.

Now I see signs of gentrification. The first giveaway: I hear and see English everywhere—even the servers at the cafés speak English now, menus are offered in English, perhaps catering to tourists encroaching on the district thanks to AirBnb. Prices are starting to rise. My nearby Leader Price grocery store, once frequented by the neighborhood’s working-class and elderly residents on pensions, has become an expensive organic shop with sparse, highly curated shelves. The old grocery store was packed with customers, and we all knew each other; the organic shop sits empty for now, confounding the locals who, when they do enter, wander the aisles slightly dazed then walk out with empty carts, shaking their heads. They’ve been abandoned.

Upscale overnight. A very pricey organic shop replaces an affordable grocery store that had served the working-class neighborhood for years. ©Lisa Anselmo

THE FATE OF OUR CAFES IS OUR FATE

The next time you see a café close, take note. Because it marks more than a change in our way of commerce; it’s a change in how we relate to each other—or more accurately, how we are beginning to not relate. Gentrification is just that: creating a place for the gentry. A certain class of people. If we build coffee houses that exclude some of us, what does this say about who we are now? It concerns me. There is a trend toward isolation that is sweeping the world, and this is affecting how we interact, vote and govern, and how we see the world. The local café is the opposite of isolation and segregation. In a fast-gentrifying city like Paris, our cafés remain a place of liberté, égalité, fraternité. A Utopia for a diverse and vital community.

It’s why, sitting in my café now, I cherish this place. Here, there is something for everyone, because everyone matters, equally. I can’t say that Paris is the most inclusive city I’ve ever lived in, or that I’ve never witnessed racism here, but for this hour or two in this wonderful place of food and drink, we are all one, united by the desire to share and connect with the world around us. We are the Paris café, and it is us.

Coffee houses are fine for some, but cafés are essential for all. This, more than any other reason, is why I fight for the survival of the Paris café. I want to be where everyone has a seat at the table. Where we all can belong.

Thanks for the memories. Chez Gladines was very popular, and served decent food to a mix of locals. “Coming Soon” as the sign touts—in English—is a Brooklyn-style craft beer bar. ©Lisa Anselmo

*Source: French National Statistics Office, 2014 – 2018

LISA ANSELMO is a writer, branding expert, speaker, and coach, and has worked at such iconic American magazines as Allure, InStyle, and People. She is the author of My (Part-Time) Paris Life: How Running Away Brought Me Home, (Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin’s Press), and has been featured in New York magazine, Travel and Leisure, Bustle, House Hunters International, Expatriates Magazine among others.
Discover her blog and book
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Follow her on Instagram | Facebook | Pinterest

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My Favorite Café Is...

My Favorite Café Is…La Belle Hortense

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by Filly di Somma

I used to organize a literary evening at La Belle Hortense with an international writers group—a mixer for new authors where we’d discuss books and drink wine. Where better to host such an event than La Belle Hortense, because it’s not just a café; it’s a book store, too.

©Lisa Anselmo

Since 1997, this café, with its facade of electric blue, in the heart of the Marais on rue Vieille du Temple, is a literary oasis for all who pass in this trendy Paris neighborhood. On the facade is posted: Cave-Librairie-Bar Littéraire (Wine Shop-Book Shop-Literary Bar), and La Belle Hortense is all this, and more.

Every day from 17h to 2h (5pm-2am) you can stop by for a drink (there’s a good selection of French wines by the glass, or bottle), buy or browse something from their stock of beautiful novels and other books then sit, either at the bar or comfortably installed in the well-lit room at the back. The hours pass quickly in this timeless place— the sort you can only find in Paris.

The old zinc bar where you can have a glass and a read. There are tables, too. And if you’re hungry, they’ll order in from one of their cafés across the street. ©Lisa Anselmo
View toward the back room. Lots of little nooks where you can sit and read. ©Lisa Anselmo

From time to time, La Belle Hortense also offers readings associated with wine tastings . The wine producer and the author of the book are both present, and you can chat with these knowledgable people. What could be more Parisian? And if you’re hungry, you can visit, or order in from, one of their three other cafés across the street, all owned by restaurateur, Xavier Denamur: Les Philosophes, Au Petit Fer à Cheval, and L’Etoile Manquante. Xavier is a fascinating man, and has a few books of his own, which are also on sale at the café.

Books and booze happily reside together on the bar. ©Lisa Anselmo
The hostess pauses from serving her clients to stock the bookshelves. ©Lisa Anselmo

At this magical literary café you’re encouraged to consume both wine and books “without moderation,” either to stay, or to take away. But why not stay? La Belle Hortense is a beautiful combination of my two most favorite things: literature and oenology, and I highly recommend you explore it.

The eclectic selection of books, just across from the zinc-top bar. ©Lisa Anselmo
A whimsical chandelier hangs overhead while you read and sip. ©Lisa Anselmo
Detail of the back room. The building dates from the 17th Century. ©Lisa Anselmo

La Belle Hortense, 31, Rue Vieille du Temple, 4ème.
Métro: Saint Paul or Pont Marie, 01.48.04.71.60

FILLY di SOMMA is a hospitality professional who lives between Rome and Paris. She grew up in her family’s hotel business in Castellammare di Stabia, in Italy, and hospitality is in her blood. She has dedicated her career to bringing people of different cultures together via tourism, and organizes cultural events such as Paris Hospitality, Discovering Japan in Paris, Social Writing, and Paris Italian culture. Filly speaks five languages including Japanese, and is also a travel journalist, contributing regularly to Where Rome, among others. Discover her blog.

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Café Culture, Paris Cafés

To Each His Own Café

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by L. John Harris, excerpted from his new book Café French: A Flâneur’s Guide to the Language, Lore and Food of the Paris Café

I was trying to connect with my friend Leonard Pitt, the Berkeley-based author of Walks Through Lost Paris: A Journey Into the Heart of Historic Paris. I wanted to know Lenny’s views of Parisian café culture then—when he lived in Paris in the 1960s—and now. He was to respond from his computer at the café in Berkeley’s French Hotel (now the SenS Hotel).

Working from my computer at the dreaded Starbucks Odéon, the setup seemed a bit surreal. Conversing with Lenny via computer at an American-based French Hotel café, and me in Paris at an American-owned chain outlet (I just cannot label Starbucks a café) gave the exchange an absurd gravitas that makes me smile to this day.

Lenny is a passionate proponent of a café-centric lifestyle he posits against the Protestant work-ethic routines of a Puritanized America. He is also passionate about the almost eternal beauty of Paris and works closely with the International Coalition for the Preservation of Paris, an organization whose mission is to resist new developments that would dwarf the incomparable and relatively low Paris skyline with a ring of giant skyscrapers around the picturesque centre of Paris—the heart of Paris that gave rise to café culture in the first place, and to the flâneurs who have strolled there ever since.

Lenny emailed me that “Nothing better symbolizes the congeniality, the rhythm and sheer joie de vivre we ache to recapture in life than the café.” Well put, Pitt! But one man’s joie de vivre is another man’s (or woman’s) morning coffee ritual, writing or art studio, afternoon or evening gathering spot for conversation and nourishment, or flâneur’s solo observation post. And often, all the above and more. The traditional Parisian café is more than the sum of its parts.

SOME OF ITS PARTS

Café napping is a bit of a stretch, but imagine cafés with cots paid for by the hour! Maybe there is a profit incentive for café owners. To my friends at Save The Paris Café, are you listening? Illustration: ©L. John Harris. Reprinted by permission.

WAKE UP (SE RÉVEILLER) AND SMELL THE COFFEE

When I go to a Paris café to wake up with a café crème, the least important criteria for me are the coffee’s origin, quality or even, I confess, taste. But at 7a.m. I don’t really care. My legs may get me to the café, but my critic’s brain is still on snooze. This particular summer I began most days at my café du coin (neighborhood café), Café Madame. There is nothing exceptional about Café Madame—they serve a typical petit déjeuner (passable coffee, acceptable croissant or buttered tartine, reasonably fresh orange juice)—except for its convenient proximity to my apartment and the Luxembourg Gardens nearby, a flaneur’s dreamscape.

WORKING (TRAVAILLER): READING (LIRE), WRITING (ÉCRIRE), SKETCHING (FAIRE DES CROQUIS)

Any café can be a working café, depending on one’s personal requirements. Kaaren Kitchell, an expat novelist, poet and blogger (Paris Play), combines her daily one-hour walk with her writing and editing projects, so her café must be at least a thirty-minute walk from home. Her other criteria include a quiet ambiance and, ergo, few tourists. “The French know how to modulate their voices,” says Kitchell.

On the other hand, expat author (Paris Par Hasard: From Bagels to Brioche), tour guide, and bon vivant Terrance Gelenter, prefers to work in crowded and noisy icons like Les Deux Magots and Café Montorgueil. Every Sunday from 11AM to 1PM, Gelenter holds “office hours” for his tour clients and visiting Anglophone writers, artists, filmmakers, and the like. It may not seem like work when you meet with him at his usual outdoor table, but he is definitely working the terrace.

CONVERSATION (PARLER, DISCUTER, LA CONVERSATION)

Where better than at a café to have a conversation? Dating back to its origins in the late 17th century, the Paris café has inhabited a middle world between public and private space where, unlike at more food-focused bistros and brasseries, spirited inter-table discourse is welcome, if not required. This “free speech movement” was not invented in Berkeley in 1964. For 18th-century dramatists and philosophers and 19th-century Impressionists who broke with the stifling constraints of the Academy, the café became a salon where artists could engage freely in debates over aesthetic issues–with the help, of course, of sufficient, if not addictive, amounts of coffee, wine and, more euphorically, absinthe and even opium. Talk about Happy Hour (pronounced app-ee ower), which these days begins in cafés as early as mid-afternoon.

WATCHING (OBSERVER) AND RESTING/NAPPING (SE REPOSER/FAIRE LA SIESTE)

The café, invented in 16th-century Istanbul, was destined for “… the eminently Parisian compromise between laziness and activity known as flânerie!” This drollery by Victorien Sardou, quoted in Edmund White’s book, The Flâneur: A Stroll through the Paradoxes of Paris (Writer and the City), sums up the high regard for lounging and loafing in a bygone era before commercial productivity became Western civilization’s highest value.

As for the café’s function as an urban resting place, it is a tourist’s necessity after days filled with shopping and sight-seeing. The café’s napping function is, I admit, a conceptual stretch. And although traditional café owners accept long patron visits and minimal consumption, I don’t think they would tolerate napping. Certainly not the high-end cafés, which drive off flâneurs as early as 11 a.m. under the pretext that the tables must be set for luncheon.

À CHACUN SON CAFÉ

Summing up the functions of the Parisian café, and depending on one’s needs—whether tourist, artist, working professional, student studying for exams, mother with hungry children, or first-date flirters—the café is a home away from home, an office away from the office, a study hall, a restaurant for nourishment and celebration, a bar for drinks and flirtation, or just an observation post for thinking, dreaming, and resting. Napping is optional. À chacun son café!

© L. John Harris. Excerpted and reprinted by permission of the author. All rights reserved.

Get your copy of Cafe French at Shakespeare and Company (37 Rue de la Bûcherie, 5ème), and The Red Wheelbarrow Bookshop (9 Rue de Médicis, 6ème), or online, here.

L. JOHN HARRIS is an artist, food writer, publisher and filmmaker working in and around Berkeley’s Gourmet Ghetto. While attending art school at UC Berkeley Harris enlisted in the California cuisine revolution of the 1970s, clerking at the Cheese Board and waiting tables at Chez Panisse. His The Book of Garlic (1974) launched another food revolution—the garlic revolution—and his organization, Lovers of the Stinking Rose, sponsored garlic festivals all across the United States, including the legendary Gilroy Garlic Festival. In the 1980s Harris’s Aris Books published cookbooks by many of the finest Bay Area cooks and food writers, including the legendary M.F.K. Fisher. Exploring the medium of documentary film in 1990s, Harris wrote and co-produced Divine Food: One Hundred Years in the Kosher Delicatessen Trade, which was featured on PBS and at Jewish film festivals internationally. Harris’s last book, Foodoodles: From the Museum of Culinary History (2010) features over 90 of his food cartoons and a foreword by the renowned chef, Jeremiah Tower. Harris lives in Berkeley and Paris and is the curator of the Harris Guitar Collection at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.

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Café Photo of the Week

Café Photo of the Week

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Café Photo of the Week is published every Wednesday, and showcases photography from our staff, contributors, and readers.

Photobombed at Chez Camille, by Gabrielle Luthy

©Gabrielle Luthy

You might think his antics ruined a good shot. Just the opposite. Accidents are what make life happen. Captured at Chez Camille on Place d’Aligre, by writer Gabrielle Luthy.

Follow Gabrielle here: Web | Paris Writing Retreats | Instagram

Chez Camille, 8 Place d’Aligre, 12ème

This Chez Camille calls itself a “bar” on social media to distinguish itself from the other Camilles in Paris. But it serves food and keeps café hours, like any other. A favorite place of market vendors for taking a break during the hectic market day.

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Edith de Belleville, Edith's Café Spotlight, Paris Cafés

Edith’s Café Spotlight: La Tartine

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[Trouvez ci-dessous la version française]
Dorothy and her suitcase are waiting for me at La Tartine. Dorothy just arrived from Seattle. Once a year she makes her pilgrimage to Paris because “Paris is my only home in the world,” she says. She didn’t have to tell me where La Tartine is, because it’s a café I’ve known forever. What is a tartine? It’s a piece of bread with a bit of butter that most French people, like me, eat for breakfast. (Don’t assume I eat croissants full of butter every morning. If I did, my clothes would not fit me anymore.)

I greet my friend with a bonjour as I arrive. “Happy to see you again!” I say. “How are you ?” I give her a kiss (faire la bise) on both cheeks. 

“Bonjour, ma chérie!” Dorothy is funny; she always calls me ma chérie (my darling). “I’m very happy to be in Paris, but I’m exhausted.”

The warm interior of La Tartine ©Edith de Belleville

I laugh as I point out that we’re wearing the same exact outfit: a black dress with white polka dots.

“It’s my travel uniform when I come to Paris,” she says. Then she tells me to order what I want. “It’s my treat.”

It’s almost lunchtime, but Dorothy orders only a café-crème (coffee with milk). It’s two o’clock in the morning for her, so she’s not in the mood to eat, even though there are many different tartines on the menu: goat cheese, ham, duck. I’m in the mood for something exotic, so I choose the Scottish tartine with smoked salmon.

Everything in this café reminds the 1920s, from the gold, geometric Art Déco engravings on the wood bar, and on the wall to the old posters and the lamps that give off an amber glow.

Art Deco details at La Tartine ©Edith de Belleville

Sitting next to us, an old bearded man is writing. He closes his note book and takes a sip of his beverage, something topped with sweet whipped cream, or crème chantilly as we call it in French. It looks good. I ask what he’s drinking.

“Un chocolat viennois,” he tells me, winking.

I explain that I was tempted to order one, but decided not to because the decadent Viennese hot chocolate would not go with my Scottish salmon. The gentleman agrees, nodding his head.

Our young waiter arrives with our orders, and I ask him how long the café has been around. “I like it very much.”

“Since 1924 ,” he answers with a smile. “We’re not allowed to move anything. The bar hasn’t changed since then.”

The bar at La Tartine hasn’t changed since 1924. ©Edith de Belleville

“Incredible! 1924!” I say.  “The same year as my perfume!”

I explain to Dorothy that the law forbids altering historic landmarks, like certain old buildings, even showcases of historic boutiques—and fortunately, vintage cafés like La Tartine.

I ask Dorothy if we should order dessert.

“Good idea!” She tells me to choose what I want.

But it takes me fifteen minutes to decide so I ask the waiter to help me make up my mind. Jérôme (I asked his name) recommends the homemade French toast. I tell Dorothy that in France we call French toast “pain perdu” (lost bread), because we use day-old bread in order not to waste—or “lose”—it.

Pain perdu at La Tartine. ©Edith de Belleville

Since Dorothy has to wait to check in to her hotel, we stay a long time in this charming café. The atmosphere is perfect for staying all day: no blaring TV, no radio with awful music—nothing too modern here. Just silence like in the good old days. We swap stores about what’s new in our lives since last year.

“You know, Edith, when I’m in Paris, I am reborn,” Dorothy tells me. “I become more feminine, more myself. I like everything here: the fabulous clothes of the Parisian women, the light, the smell of the food. And I really like the old cafés like this one.” Then she adds, “And this pain perdu.”

She’s right. The pain perdu (which I ate all by myself) was delicious. I thank Jérôme for his good advice, then point out that he has the same name as Napoléon’s youngest brother: Jerôme Bonaparte. (I can’t resist a teaching moment.)

But now it’s time to go; Dorothy needs to rest.  I apologize for talking too much with the waiter and the old man. “But when I’m in a café,” I say, “I like to learn about the lives of my fellow Parisians.” I thank her for inviting me to this lovely place.

“Oh you’re welcome, ma chérie!” she says. “I’m glad you chatted with the waiter. My hotel is just next door, so I know where I’ll be having my breakfast every day for the next two weeks.” She shoots me a big smile. “I’m so glad I invited you to lunch because, thanks to you, the waiter won’t treat me like a tourist. You gave me credibility here. You’re my credibility lunch date!”

I laugh, and faire la bise with Dorothy, bidding her “Au revoir.“

As I walk away, I wonder if Dorothy was onto something. Maybe this could be my new career: Credibility Lunch Date for visitors to Paris. I’m available! —Edith de Belleville

  • Where? 24 Rue de Rivoli, Paris 4ème
  • When? Monday to Saturday, 8:00am-11:30pm; Sunday : 11am – 11pm
  • What to drink? Happy hour 4:00-9:00pm; Beer Pils : 4 euros; Cocktails: 5 euros; Coffee (100% arabica): 2.50 euros; Café crème: 4 euros; Hot chocolate : 4 euros; Viennese  coffee or Viennese hot chocolate: 5.50 euros; Tea: 4.50 euros; Fruit juice: 4.50 euros
  • What to eat ? A tartine with a small salad (ham, goat cheese, smoked salmon ) from 10 to 12 euros; French fries: 4 euros; Desserts: brownie, French toast, apple pie, crêpes: from 7 to 8 euros
  • How to go?  Métro Saint Paul, line 1

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EDITH DE BELLEVILLE is a licensed tour guide in Paris, and the author of Belles et Rebelles, à l’ombre des Grandes Parisiennes (Éditions Erick Bonnier) available in French at Fnac.fr,  Amazon.fr and Amazon.ca

__________________________

VERSION FRANÇAISE

La Tartine ©Edith de Belleville

Dorothy et sa valise m’attendent à La Tartine. Dorothy vient juste d’arriver de  Seattle. Une fois par an elle fait un pèlerinage à Paris car Paris est ma seule maison au monde dit-elle. Elle n’a pas eu besoin de me dire où se trouve La Tartine car c’est un café que je connais depuis toujours. Qu’est ce qu’une tartine? C’est un morceau de pain avec un peu de beurre que je mange, comme la plupart des Français, au petit-déjeuner. N’imaginez pas que je mange un croissant plein de beurre chaque matin. Si je faisais cela je ne pourrais plus rentrer dans mes vêtements. 

—Bonjour Dorothy ! Je suis contente de te revoir. Comment vas-tu?  Bienvenue à la maison! lui dis- je tout en l’embrassant chaleureusement sur les deux joues pour lui faire la bise.

—Bonjour ma chérie !  Dorothy est drôle, elle m’appelle tout le temps ma chérie. Je vais bien, très heureuse d’être à Paris mais je suis épuisée.

—Regarde nous sommes habillées pareil ! lui dis-je en riant. Elle et moi portons la même robe noire à pois blancs.

—C’est ma robe parisienne quand je voyage à Paris. Prends ce que tu veux c’est moi qui invite.

C’est presque l’heure du déjeuner mais Dorothy ne prend qu’un café-crème. Il est 2 heures du matin pour elle et elle n’est pas d’humeur à manger. Il y a plusieurs tartines différentes sur le menu:  Avec du fromage de chèvre, avec du jambon ou avec du canard. Comme je suis d’humeur exotique je choisis la tartine écossaise avec du saumon fumé écossais. Tout dans ce café rappelle les années 20 :  Les gravures dorées géométriques Art déco sur la bar en bois et sur le mur, les anciennes affiches et les lampes qui diffusent une lumière couleur d’ambre. Près de nous est assis un vieil homme avec une barbe qui écrit. Il ferme son cahier puis déguste sa boisson qui déborde de crème chantilly. Ça a l’air bon. Je lui demande ce qu’il boit: 

—Un chocolat viennois me répond-il avec un clin d’oeil.

©Edith de Belleville

 Je lui explique que j’hésite à en prendre un. Finalement je lui dis que j’ai changé d’avis. Le chocolat chaud décadent autrichien se marie mal avec le saumon écossais. Le vieux monsieur m’approuve en faisant oui de la tête.

 —J’aime beaucoup ce café, depuis quand existe t-il? je demande au jeune serveur qui nous apporte nos commandes.

—1924 me répond-il avec un sourire. Nous n’avons pas l’autorisation de bouger quoique ce soit ici. Le bar n’a pas changé vous savez.

—Incroyable! 1924! La même année que mon parfum!

J’explique à Dorothy que la loi interdit de détruire le patrimoine parisien comme certains immeubles anciens, les devantures des vieilles boutiques et heureusement pour nous, les cafés vintage comme La Tartine. 

Un détail du bar. ©Edith de Belleville

 —On partage un dessert Dorothy?
—Bonne idée! Choisis ce que tu veux.

Je prends quinze minutes pour décider ce que je veux. Je demande au gentil serveur de m’aider à faire mon choix. Jérôme (je lui ai demandé son prénom) me conseille de prendre le pain perdu maison. Je dis à Dorothy qu’en anglais on appelle cela le toast français mais qu’en France on l’appelle le pain perdu car on utilise le pain de la veille pour ne pas le perdre.

Dorothy doit attendre que sa chambre soit prête alors nous restons un long moment dans ce charmant café. L’ambiance est parfaite pour rester toute la journée:  pas de télé, pas de radio avec une musique horrible, rien de trop moderne ici, juste le silence comme au bon vieux temps. Nous échangeons des confidences sur ce qui est arrivé de nouveau dans nos vies depuis un an.

—Tu sais Edith, quand je suis à Paris je revis. Je deviens plus féminine, plus moi-même. J’aime tout ici : Les fabuleux vêtements des Parisiennes, la lumière, l’odeur de la nourriture. Et surtout j’aime les vieux cafés comme celui-ci et ce pain perdu ajoute t-elle. 

Le pain perdu que j’ai mangé à moi à toute seule était délicieux. Je remercie Jérôme pour son choix judicieux et je lui apprend qu’il porte le même prénom que le plus jeune frère de Napoléon, Jérôme Bonaparte. C’est l’heure de partir maintenant, Dorothy doit se reposer. 

—Désolée si j’ai tellement parlé à notre voisin et au serveur.  Quand je suis dans un café j’aime bien savoir comment les Parisiens vivent à Paris. Merci pour l’invitation. 

©Edith de Belleville

—Oh je t’en prie ma chérie. Au contraire, je suis contente que tu aies beaucoup parlé avec Jérôme. Mon hôtel est juste à coté de La Tartine alors je sais maintenant où je vais prendre mes petits-déjeuners chaque matin pendant deux semaines me dit -elle avec un grand sourire. Grâce à toi le serveur ne me verra pas comme une touriste. Tu es mon invitée car tu m’as aidée à obtenir de la crédibilité. Mon invitée en crédibilité. Cela valait la peine de t’inviter !

—C’est peut-être une nouvelle carrière pour moi : Invitée en crédibilité pour les visiteurs à Paris je réponds en riant à Dorothy tout en l’embrassant sur les joues pour lui dire au-revoir. —Edith de Belleville

  • Où ? 24, rue de Rivoli Metro Saint-Paul ligne 1.
  • Quand ? du lundi au dimanche: 8h-23h30 ; dimanche: 11h – 23h
  • Que boire? Happy hour 16h-21h ; Beer Pils : 4 euros; Cocktails 5 euros ; Café  100% arabicca : 2,50 euros ; Café crème: 4 euros ; Chocolat chaud : 4 euros ; Café et chocolat viennois : 5,50 euros  ; Thé: 4,50 euros ; Jus de fruits : 4,50 euros
  • Que manger? Tartine avec une salade (jambon, fromage de chèvre ou saumon fumé ) de  10 à 12 euros ; Frites : 4 euros ; Désserts: brownie, pain perdu, tarte, crêpe: de 7 à 8 euros
  • Comment s’y rendre?  Métro Saint Paul, ligne 1

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Guide-conférencière à Paris, EDITH DE BELLEVILLE est également l’auteure de Belles et Rebelles, à l’ombre des Grandes Parisiennes ( Éditions Erick Bonnier ) un livre disponible à la Fnac.fr,  Amazon.fr et Amazon.ca

Café Photo of the Week

Café Photo of the Week

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Café Photo of the Week is published every Wednesday, and showcases photography from our staff, contributors, and readers.

Le Select, by Janice MacLeod

©Janice MacLeod

This classic café moment was captured by Janice MacLeod, and is from her book, A Paris Year. Reprinted by permission.

Follow Janice at janicemacleod.com

Le Select, 99 Boulevard du Montparnasse, 6ème

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My Favorite Café Is...

My Favorite Café Is…Café Charlot

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by Adrian Leeds

Everyone who knows me knows that my favorite café is Café Charlot on Rue de Bretagne. When it first opened, it bothered me that it was a bit more expensive than the other cafés in my neighborhood. After ignoring it for a long time, I finally gave in to its popularity, and walked in. I discovered it was way more than a café. It’s a way of life. Let me explain.

Café Charlot is owned by a restaurateur that has other cafés around town (La Favorite, Le St. Regis, for example), and like their other cafés, it looks like a New York idea of a French café, a sort of stylized retro: walls in white Métro tiles, dark wood tables and chairs, the zinc top bar, ceiling fans, indirect lighting — a sophisticated urban feel without being too stuffy.

It’s a gold mine. Café Charlot is always packed for lunch, apéro, dinner—and after. ©Lisa Anselmo

The café also behaves more like a New York restaurant than a Parisian café because the menu and approach to service is more international in style, as is the clientele. The wait staff speaks English, if not a variety of other languages, and they don’t treat you as if they are doing you a favor to wait on you. If you ask for slight changes to your order, they don’t balk; they just ask the chef if it’s possible. I’m the queen of making changes to the dish in order to satisfy my strict diet, and the chef happily goes above and beyond my request to make me not just happy, but elated. In fact, he knows I love his cooking and often rewards me with an extra special something, like a small bowl of the soupe du jour.

A typical plat du jour, but this one is customized, like the side of haricots verts. Special orders don’t upset them so you CAN have it your way. ©Lisa Anselmo

The quality of the food at Café Charlot is way beyond any other typical café I’ve ever known, and I’d put its chef up against the best bistro in the neighborhood. There is almost always at least one plat du jour apart from the usual menu, so I can have lunch there every single day and never get bored. My favorite over the years might be their lamb chops which, when they have them, are lean, tender, juicy, and ridiculously delicious. When they do beef, they do beef! You’ll get a big thick slab cooked to perfection and to go with it, you won’t want to miss their thin, crispy French fries—les frites. If you like salads, you absolutely must try their salade d’haricots verts, a mountain of crispy fresh-cooked green beans topped with a copious amount of pine nuts. The burgers are tall—beautiful totem poles of delight, impossible to eat with your hands (although I once sat next to the actor Jean Dujardin who did just that!). But, I almost never order off the menu when I can have their plat du jour. (I recently learned that my nickname among the wait staff is “Madame Plat du Jour.”)

Why order off the menu when the plat du jour is always exceptional? ©Lisa Anselmo

Café Charlot is the café of choice of many of the fashionistas who invade the neighborhood during Fashion Week. Celebrities abound, not to be “seen,” but to be circumspect. There is every sort of Parisian, part-time Parisian, and even tourists who have heard about the café, but it still feels local because everyone seems so comfortable and at home in this casual place.

I’m truly a regular at Café Charlot and take the same table whenever possible. It’s the second from the left against the back wall. From that vantage point I can see all the goings-on, of which there are plenty. People know they might find me in my usual spot, and often stop in to say hello. And after so many years of coming here, the waiters know me and treat me with tremendous care, which I love, naturally. On top of it all, the WiFi works, and what could be more perfect than its location just a block away from home? I am truly grateful for Café Charlot. It’s my office-away-from-the office and it’s become my way of life. So I pay a bit more, but it sure is worth it!

©Lisa Anselmo

Café Charlot, 38 Rue de Bretagne, 3ème arr.

ADRIAN LEEDS is a French property expert and HGTV personality. She has created a variety of businesses devoted to assisting other expats in their quest to fulfill their dream of living in France. Her company, the Adrian Leeds Group, is a licensed real estate agency offering complete property consultation services primarily for North Americans wanting to live and/or invest in France.
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Café Photo of the Week

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Sunday Afternoon at Café de Paris, by Peter Schlipf

©Peter Schlipf

Every picture tells a story. In this case, half a dozen. Or maybe just the one: a young woman walking across the frame, and her many admirers. Ah, Paris. Captured at Café de Paris, before its makeover.

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Cafe de Paris, 10 Rue de Buci, 6ème

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Café Photo of the Week

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Le P’tit-Déj, by Lisa Anselmo

©Lisa Anselmo

Breakfast at my local. Damn good coffee.

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Café Lino, 81 Boulevard de Charonne, 11ème

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Café Photo of the Week

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Café Photo of the Week is published every Wednesday, and showcases photography from our staff, contributors, and readers.

Ma Bourgogne, by Virginia Jones

©Virginia Jones

The lunch service at Ma Bourgogne, a lovely café situated on the Place des Vosges, which boasts historic painted ceilings and an enviable terrace. Captured by reader and photographer, Virginia Jones.

Find Virginia on her photography website, Blogspot, and on Instagram as @vjonesphoto

Ma Bourgogne, 19 Place des Vosges, 4ème

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Café Trends, Just for Fun, Lisa Anselmo, Paris Cafés

5 Café Deco Trends We’re Over Already

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by Lisa Anselmo

If someone were to say “Paris café style” to you, it would probably conjure up some immediate images: bentwood chairs, globe lights, wood paneling, maybe even a zinc bar. There’s a classic look to a café. A tad cliché, maybe, but it has stood the test of time, and somehow never looks dated, much like the American diner.

But even Paris cafés go through a relooking—makeover—every decade or so. Usually the changes stay somewhat within the vernacular: a new awning, a redux of their rattan Maison Gatti chairs, signage redesign. Mostly, it’s a much-needed refresh, yet it still feels Parisian: stylish, but not too trendy.

A Belle Epoque café captured by Ilya Repin in 1875. Wikimedia Commons

THE NEW DESIGN MOTTO: CONFORM OR PERISH

But these days design decision are more likely to be crowd-sourced by those with the power to “like.” It’s not about creating a unique look based on your brand identity; it’s about fitting in. With cafés struggling to stay in business, they’re not just renovating, they are actually duplicating each other in a scramble to stay on the map. If one changes their red awning to blue, so does the next one down the street. Aided and inspired by social media, trends sweep the city from quartier to quartier like a contagion, stamping out the authentic and replacing it with the Instagrammable.

“Tropical Chic.” One of the hot trends on Pinterest right now that’s sweeping Paris cafés. Courtesy of Pinterest.

If you’re trying to attract customers, put that money into a good chef and better coffee, and keep the café as is.

Sure, you can argue that there’s a sameness to classic café style, but at least it’s timeless and uniquely Parisian, instead of this soulless caricature of Brooklyn that’s (super)imposing itself on the city. Everyone is conforming to the exact trends, churning them out with zero interpretation: the same industrial furniture, the same cold color palate, the same minimalist feel—like hipster McDonalds franchises—so the look is already played out, even before the paint is dry on that relooking.

GOOD DESIGN IS ETERNAL; BAD DESIGN IS FORGETTABLE

No one is saying modern is bad. We’re talking about bad choices. When you design anything based solely on the trend of the day, you risk a result that might not resonate longterm. It’s just bad business. Cafés spend a lot to renovate—money they can ill afford in this economy—and it’s heartbreaking when they choose styles that will look dated in a year, especially after they’ve gutted their original 100-year-old interior to do it, one that still looked perfectly on brand, and would have for years to come.

Designer Matthew Waldman is famous for saying “the future should not look like the past.” You could add that it also shouldn’t look like the fleeting moment. If you must modernize, think about how your makeover design will look in five years’ time. If it won’t hold up like your current interior, scrap your plan. At the end of the day, if you’re trying to attract customers, put that same money into a good chef and better coffee, and keep the café as is.

Behold, the top 5 trends in café deco that we’re over already:

1: THE NAKED EDISON BULB

An obligatory element in any café makeover. A cool look…5 years ago. It’s a café, not a lab in Menlo Park, New Jersey. Put a lampshade on that thing; you’re burning our retinas.

And speaking of lampshades…

2: THE GIANT WICKER LAMPSHADE

The first time we saw this it seemed sort of design-y, but after the 50th café, Paris is starting to look more like a cheap beach resort. Baskets are for bread.

3: THE METAL STOOL

About as comfortable as sitting on a barbed wire fence, mais non? We’re assuming you don’t want us stay long. Even more fun for your fanny after that thing has been baking in the hot sun all day. Youch!

4: THE TINY TERRACE TABLE

Oh, sweetie, no. Do you really expect two people to eat at this flimsy little thing? There are limits to how far to take a trend. You might have reached it.

5: THE TROPICAL WALLPAPER

Giant palm fronds, pink flamingos—it’s so oddly specific, and so woefully out of place. Yet there it is, hopping from café to café, like a conga line. Even my local has gone Copa Cabana bananas.

My local. With basket lampshades for the full Tropicana effect. Babalu aye!

Top photo: Courtesy of Croco, formerly Café Cassis. Ironically, the idea for Save the Paris Café was born in the defuct Cassis. Croco is an entirely tropical-themed café…except for the food (though it’s pretty decent). But go figure.

Is anyone doing these trends right? Check out Mon Coco, at 6 Place de la Republique. The decor is more thoughtfully done: classic bentwood chairs are paired with the “Brooklyn-style” industrial table; a whimsical straw chandelier (instead of the ubiquitous basket lamp) hangs over a plush blue velvet booth; instead of tropical wallpaper, a mural by a street artist nods to the area’s gritty vibe. It makes a unique statement because it’s an extension of who they are, vs. what’s trendy, so it has a far better chance of holding up as time goes by.

Which Paris café has your favorite interior design? Let us know!

LISA ANSELMO is a writer, branding expert, speaker, and coach, and has worked at such iconic American magazines as Allure, InStyle, and People. She is the author of My (Part-Time) Paris Life: How Running Away Brought Me Home, (Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin’s Press), and has been featured in New York magazine, Travel and Leisure, Bustle, House Hunters International, Expatriates Magazine among others.
Discover her blog and book
Subscribe to her Youtube channel
Follow her on Instagram | Facebook | Pinterest

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Café Culture, Café Photo of the Week

Café Photo of the Week

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Café Photo of the Week is published every Wednesday, and showcases photography from our staff, contributors, and readers.

Parisian Waiter, by Claude Corbin

©Claude Corbin

White shirt, black pants, white apron—and a perfectly balanced tray: the iconic Parisian waiter. Captured at the charming Le Square Trousseau.

Follow Claude on Blogspot.

Le Square Trousseau, 1 Rue Antoine Vollon, Paris 12ème

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My Favorite Café Is..., Paris Cafés

My Favorite Café Is…Le Nemours

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Story and photography by Richard Nahem

I’m not sure exactly when Le Nemours became my favorite café but I think it’s when I moved here in 2005. Before that it was Café de Flore, when Saint Germain des Pres was my go-to neighborhood when I first started visiting Paris in the late 1970s.

I think part of the reason why I like Les Nemours so much is because it’s the gateway to my favorite place in Paris, the Palais Royal. Beyond the terrace of Le Nemours is a hidden world not known to most tourists, with magical gardens and almost infinity rows of symmetrically planted trees plus limestone passageways with mosaic tile floors inhabited by the chicest fashion and vintage shops in Paris.

Le Nemours sits on a plaza behind the Louvre, Place Colette, named after the infamous author Colette, who lived in the Palais Royal in the 1950s.

Waiters at Café Nemours still wear the classic uniform of a black vest and pants, white shirt, and a long, white apron.   ©Richard Nahem
The café enjoys a prime location in the elegant Galerie de Nemours. ©Richard Nahem

I had to do some preliminary research for this article, so, on a warm summer morning at about 11a.m., I planted myself on a French café chair of white rattan with a pattern of pale blue squares on the terrace of Le Nemours. My immediate view to my left was the Palais Royal Métro kiosk designed by artist Jean Michel Othoniel in 2000, a whimsical kaleidoscope made of gorgeous colored Murano glass spheres and brushed aluminum. On my right were the handsome limestone columns of La Comédie Francaise, a theater institution steeped in history from the time of France’s greatest playwright, Molière. What better view can one have at a Parisian café?

My view of La Comédie Française.  ©Richard Nahem
Classic rattan café chairs made by Maison Gatti, which has been making  café chairs for generations.  ©Richard Nahem
The whimsical Palais Royale-Musée du Louvre Métro kiosk by artist Jean Michel Othoniel. ©Richard Nahem

Waiters still wear the classic uniform of a black vest and pants, white shirt, and a starched white apron rolled at the waist, hanging down about mid-calf. I ordered a café noisette and a few moments later the waiter placed my coffee on the table with a glass of water. The coffee was typical Paris café coffee, at best on the lower scale of mediocre but that’s not the point. In case you didn’t know, it’s not about the actual coffee at French cafés; it’s about the ambience and the experience.

The ambiance at Le Nemours. ©Richard Nahem

While slowly sipping my noisette, I perused the crowd. It was unusually crowded for that time of the day considering the off hour—too early for lunch and too late for a morning croissant. It was an odd potpourri of businessmen in close-fitting summer suits; tourists wearing shorts, tank tops, and sandals having a late breakfast probably because of their jet lag; a punk-like couple looking hung over, donning all black with partially shaved heads and maroon-colored Doc Marten boots; a middle aged Parisian women in casual chic. Any student studying sociology could have written a graduate thesis by just observing.

It then suddenly dawned on me that there’s an unwritten democracy at a French café: Anyone can sit at a table as long as you can afford a mere 2.50€ for a noisette; no one will bother you.

There’s an unwritten democracy at a French café: Anyone can sit at a table as long as you can afford a mere 2.50€ for a noisette. ©Richard Nahem

Upon leaving, I stood up and took one last look at the bold gold letters spelling L-E-N-E-M-O-U-R-S, the tall columns with elegant lanterns hanging in between, and the white and pearl gray striped awnings, all which again confirmed why Le Nemours is my favorite Paris café.

©Richard Nahem

One last thing: a little movie trivia. Does anyone remember the opening scene from The Tourist, a silly, trifle of a film from 2010? It’s a shot of Angelina Jolie sitting at Le Nemours, while Johnny Depp is spying on her.

©Richard Nahem

Le Nemours, Galerie de Nemours, 2 Place Colette, 1st arr.

All photos this page: ©Richard Nahem

RICHARD NAHEM is the creator of the popular blog Eye Prefer Paris, with three weekly posts about art, history, fashion, food, shopping, architecture, and restaurant reviews. He also writes about Paris and European travel and his articles and photos have appeared in The Guardian, Romantic Paris, Passport Magazine, Travel Agent Central, Luxury Travel Advisor, France Today Magazine, and Bonjour Paris. He recently edited the National Geographic Walking Tours of Paris Guidebook. Richard also leads private insider tours of Paris via Eye Prefer Paris Tours, showing clients the Paris they never usually see on their own.

Essays, Janice MacLeod, Paris Cafés

Return to the Saint-Régis

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by Janice MacLeod

September in Paris is called “la rentrée“—or “the return.” It’s a return from a month-long vacation most Parisians take over August, as well as a return to school. September is like January in other places—when we launch it, enroll in it, and begin it. Having a long vacation seems to do what vacations are designed to do—first relax us, then reinvigorate us for the year ahead.

Photo: Janice MacLeod from her book, A Paris Year

Early in the mornings of September, I walk to the Saint-Régis Café on Île Saint-Louis—the island in the middle of the Seine and of Paris. I sit among the bronzed locals who are revisiting projects previously abandoned for the beach. We sit together in silence, staring at our screens or notepads. One gentleman is refining a menu, another is writing an essay, another is working out math problems, which doesn’t seem like a romantic notion until you see his numbers. They are so ornate that I want to frame the page. As for me, I sit with my journal and work out the next quarter—articles to be written, correspondence to organize, chapters to complete, and of course, dreams to pursue. It’s a full but quiet room. The most conversation you’ll get is a friendly nod of recognition. It’s like a library but with clinking glasses and a buzzing espresso machine. As the brunch crowd filters in, we filter out.

I saunter down the main street of this small island town and do some window-shopping. The French call this “lèche-vitrines,” or window licking, which is exactly what you want to do at the chocolatier, boulangerie, and at Berthillon—the ice-cream shop. I end my stroll at the tip of the island. Here, the river splits, giving you the illusion that you are steering your own ship, which is, I suppose how September itself feels. Summer is gone and you’re happy about it, delighted to get back to work.

As I turn to go, I notice the tops of the trees have begun to turn yellow. A new season has begun and I could not be more pleased. Let it begin!

Café Saint-Régis, 6 rue Jean du Bellay, 4th arr., 01.43.54.59.41

Photos this page by Janice MacLeod, from her book, A Paris Year.

JANICE MacLEOD is the illustrator and author of the New York Times best-selling book Paris Letters, and her latest book, A Paris Year, part memoir / part visual journey through the streets of Paris.
Discover her world at janicemacleod.com
Visit her Etsy shop
Like her Facebook page

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Café Photo of the Week

Café Photo of the Week

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Café Photo of the Week is published every Wednesday, and showcases photography from our staff, contributors, and readers.

Andy Warhol was Here, by Geoffrey Guillin

©Geoffrey Guillin

Seen on the bar at Le Pure Café, an old Campbell’s Tomato Soup can. They use it for bits and bobs. No one is sure how this old can of American soup came to be at a Paris café. Maybe Andy Warhol brought it?

Discover the universe of Geoffrey Guillin: Website | Instagram

Le Pure Café, 14 Rue Jean-Macé, 11ème

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Submission does not guarantee publication. Accepted photos will run in the order they are received. When you submit a photo, you give Save the Paris Café non-exclusive rights to publish it, free of charge, on our website and in social media, in perpetuity.

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Café Photo of the Week

Café Photo of the Week

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Café Photo of the Week is published every Wednesday, and showcases photography from our staff, contributors, and readers.

Parisian Curves, by Claude Corbin

©Claude Corbin

Shot at Le Saint-Severin, early morning in the Latin Quarter, before anybody arrives and messes things up.

Find Claude on Blogspot.

Café Saint-Severin, 5 Rue Saint-Séverin, 5ème

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Café Photo of the Week? Click here for submission rules.
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Submission does not guarantee publication. Accepted photos will run in the order they are received. When you submit a photo, you give Save the Paris Café non-exclusive rights to publish it, free of charge, on our website and in social media, in perpetuity.

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Janice MacLeod, My Favorite Café Is..., Paris Cafés

My Favorite Café Is…The Tournbride

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by Janice MacLeod

In the second installment of our series, “My Favorite Café Is…” bestselling author and artist Janice MacLeod shares her perfect place with us.

For the first two years in Paris, I was like Goldilocks, traipsing all over the city in search of the best café. A place I could call my own. One café would have a cozy atmosphere but terrible coffee. Another would have great coffee but terrible food. Then I came upon the café that was just right: Café TournBride in the 5th arrondissement.

It had it all—great coffee, cozy atmosphere and delicious traditional French cuisine. Plus, it’s location on the pedestrian-friendly rue Mouffetard makes it the perfect perch for people catching. Being here makes me feel like I’m in a timeless Paris—the version you see on all those postcards. People still sit and write letters, read the paper, and catch up on the latest gossip. I often linger here with my journal—sipping, dreaming and listening to French words flutter by on the breeze.

I plan on putting in plenty of time here, and at the end of my days I’ll likely haunt it ever after. We all must find our place in this world. Here in Paris, I believe I have found mine.

Café TournBride, 104 Rue Mouffetard, Paris 5th arr., 01.43.31.42.98

Photo: Janice MacLeod, from her book, A Paris Year

Photos this page by Janice MacLeod, from her book, A Paris Year.

JANICE MacLEOD is the illustrator and author of the New York Times best-selling book Paris Letters, and her latest book, A Paris Year, part memoir / part visual journey through the streets of Paris.
Discover her world at janicemacleod.com
Visit her Etsy shop
Like her Facebook page

Editor’s Note: Café TournBride has a Certificate of Excellence from TripAdvisor for earning consistently high reviews.

Café Photo of the Week

Café Photo of the Week

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Café Photo of the Week is published every Wednesday, and showcases photography from our staff, contributors, and readers.

Coffee and a Bearded Man, by Janice MacLeod

©Janice MacLeod

This sweet café moment was captured by Janice MacLeod, and is from her book, A Paris Year. Reprinted by permission.

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Café Photo of the Week? Click here for submission rules.
If we like it, we’ll publish it with a photo credit!
Submission does not guarantee publication. Accepted photos will run in the order they are received. When you submit a photo, you give Save the Paris Café non-exclusive rights to publish it, free of charge, on our website and in social media, in perpetuity.

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