According to online restaurant booking website The Fork, restaurant reservations for a single person rose by 18% in 2024. A recent study published by ObSoCo shows that the fall in the birth rate can also be explained by the fall in the number of couples. According to INSEE, the proportion of under-30s living in couples fell by 15 percentage points between 1990 and 2020, from 70% to 55%. This figure does not take into account “non-cohabiting” couples who, while maintaining a relationship, choose to keep their homes separate. This phenomenon, which can be observed just about everywhere in the world, has been described as a ‘relationship recession’ by the Financial Times, which is never far behind a trend.

There are many explanations for this: later entry into the workforce, the cost of housing and (above all) the increasing individualisation of behaviour, particularly among young women, who prefer to remain single rather than enter a relationship that does not meet their expectations, including in terms of domestic equality. Singlehood is tending to become the norm, and a couple who move in together are now more likely to separate than to have a child…

As a result, solo offers are multiplying, from ‘solo trips’ for people travelling alone (increasingly numerous), to literary retreats (the latest trend), the ‘Eating alone’ tab on the Fooding website and the widespread use of counters facing the kitchens in restaurants. This way, the show is no longer just in the dining room, but provided by the brigade. Long live show cooking!

But beyond these new targeted proposals, solo life is also sparking an over-investment in friendships among younger people, which can be seen as much in the success of “Spritz + board” aperitifs (on the way to supplanting dinners), board games and In Real Life evenings without phones, as in immersive museum visits, escape games or novel shopping experiences, with pop-ups or unexpected collabs.

This explains why experience is now more sought-after than possession: a promise of emotional sharing and images destined to circulate on social media. Moments that create memories rather than ego-building purchases. More than ever, consuming is sharing.

To celebrate ‘la fête des voisins’ (Neighbours’ Day), Bouillon Pigalle, Pink Mamma and La Machine du Moulin Rouge teamed up on rue Duperré (Paris 9) to create ‘the biggest table in Paris’, combining the timeless dishes of Bouillons and the emblematic Italian piatti of Big Mamma, with live music from La Machine du Moulin Rouge, all for €39 per person. At the end of May, the neo-bakery The French Bastard set fire to Rue Oberkampf with the help of trans-generational DJ Bob Sinclar. And now La Grande Epicerie de Paris is letting its hair down and announcing that, to mark the tenth anniversary of the Food Market, it wants to transform the chic rue du Bac into an ‘urban guinguette, mixing gourmet spots in the 7th arrondissement and emblematic addresses in the north of Paris, with a DJ set and make-up workshop for children’. An invitation to create a dialogue between the two sides of the river – something no one in the 7th arrondissement has ever seen before.

Not far from there, Pucci, the Florentine luxury brand belonging to the LVMH group, is taking up residence until the end of July at the Bar de la Croix-Rouge, the HQ for all the cool inhabitants of the Saint-Germain-des-Prés ‘village’, dressed up for the occasion in its psychedelic colours, just to give its customers the feeling of already being somewhere else. A few weeks ago, the brand Ami took advantage of the opening of its latest flagship store in the Haut-Marais (where else?) to demonstrate its closeness to the shopkeepers on rue de Bretagne, where neighbourhood and community seem to be one and the same. The programme included a treasure hunt, partnerships, an exhibition, and a photo book.

Occupying new territories has always been an obsession for all brands wishing to surprise and, therefore, make a name for themselves. It is easy to see why, nowadays, it has also become a question of geographical territory. And there is no shortage of advantages. For a brand, showing that it belongs to a neighbourhood is first and foremost a way of demonstrating that it is not driven solely by commercial concerns. It is also proof that the inevitable globalisation can take place locally, which immediately gives it a more sympathetic face. And finally, it is an opportunity to create a sense of community which in turn will be transformed into a precious commitment on the part of buyers, who will feel reassured that they are in the ‘right’ place.

Forging close relationships is becoming almost more strategic for a brand than winning new customers.

Shopping at a standstill, real estate on hold, the motor industry in transition, DIY and gardening on a diet: consumerism in France seems to be on pause, waiting for the future to present itself. As a result, the triple word of the moment is Fatigue. Seven letters. Nothing more.

At the beginning of the year, the head of Chanel spoke of “luxury fatigue”, an expression that has since been widely used to describe a reduced desire to buy very expensive products for which the real value is not obvious. Naysayers might simply argue that luxury lovers are beginning to grow tired of being taken for fools… The growing success of dupes proves that it didn’t take them long to find a solution to their weariness. According to a recent study, one in three French people have given in to cosmetic dupes in the last twelve months… We’ve been hearing about expert consumers for so long, it was bound to happen (also) in this form.

Coincidence or not, the press has never devoted so many articles to sleep, which in just a few months has become a major public health issue at the root of our stress, our lack of concentration and our heightened sensitivity. Successful sleep means a successful life.

Not eating (too much) before going to bed, having a “separate mattress”, reducing screen time and bedroom temperature, getting up and going to bed at regular times… Good advice abounds, and it’s not surprising that brands are trying to turn this sudden concern into a profitable business.

Kusmi Tea, which has built its reputation on its Detox blends, is now offering a Sleep Ritual: ‘a fruity organic infusion with clinically proven benefits’. On the shelves, good-for-you products are easily recognisable by their use of the hopeful word ‘vitality’. Herbalist shops are enjoying unexpected success, and hotels are stepping up their offers of stays (renamed “experiences”) promising a return to “restful” sleep thanks to a host of white-coat treatments. These are necessarily “no kids” holidays.

But if France is tired, is it only because it sleeps badly? After the fatigue of being oneself, caused by the cult of performance, aren’t we in the process of paying for the fatigue of always wanting to become someone else?

Influencers couldn’t remain brand spokespeople forever, content to unpack and comment on what brands were offering them through ego-centric displays – the only things that set them apart from teleshopping shows. The temptation to support their own products was great. Now it is starting to become a reality. After a few expected incursions into the fashion and cosmetics sectors through opportunistic pop-up stores, influencers are now looking to get in our shopping trolleys.

One of the best-known of them, Squeezie (19 million subscribers), recently announced on social media (where else?) the launch of his kombucha under the name Ciao Kombucha, with its surprising Italian flair (despite being prepared in Spain) and available in six flavours. A real range. This is the influencer’s second diversification, following the launch of his now-defunct clothing brand. The initiative is well worth following, as it will provide an opportunity to measure the real power of influencers on the real world and, more specifically, their ability to endow their products with a more attractive lifestyle aura than the one suggested by brands through their usual communications.

Here, there is no age-old know-how, no tradition borne of gestures or legitimacy induced by a territorial affiliation. Nothing more than a name as a springboard, known only to those who frequent social media, but associated with an individual trajectory perceived as a guarantee of sincerity and authenticity. Two values that are highly appreciated at a time when the word of brands is often spontaneously questioned.

“I discovered natural drinks 2 years ago and it’s really helped me cut down on soda and other drinks that are often saturated with sugar and not great for your health”, explains Squeezie, who adds “I’ve made it my mission to create a kombucha with the most accessible taste so that as many people as possible can enjoy this type of drink and everyone can drink a little better”. The brand’s vision, mission and ambition are expressed through a personal story that people can relate to, rather than a formatted message.

Kombucha isn’t the best-known or most festive of drinks. Thanks to Squeezie, it’s going to become better known and closer to consumers, and in the end, the natural food market will benefit greatly from it. The digital world at the service of the real one.

Now that everyone is convinced that the future of commerce lies in its ability to offer customers new ‘experiences’, the question remains as to what this word, which has been thrown around like a magic formula, actually means.

For a long time, the customer experience revolved around the act of buying, from welcoming the customer in-store to the packaging and the selling experience, which was all about empathy, leaving a lasting impression and prompting the desire to tell others about it. Everything has to make the customer feel unique. Not an easy task, given the shortage of motivated sales staff and the growing demands of a customer base drunk on its own power. Then came the time to showcase the brand’s history: its origins, its know-how, its secrets through selective events, workshop visits (very popular) and exhibitions on a variable scale. Something not all brands can do.

Now businesses are taking a more festive approach. And more radical. A few weeks ago, the neo-bakery chain The French Bastards (quite the concept) called on the talent of renowned DJ Bob Sinclar to turn its historic establishment into a party on rue Oberkampf. 400 fans packed into the shop and onto the pavement (source TFB). In Toulon, the fashion brand Natif (with eight shops in the south of France) offers after-work parties every Thursday, and last year even launched its own festival at the Hippodrome d’Hyères. 15,000 people turned out over three days, both fans of the brand and of music. While it is not unusual for trendy clothing shops to organise DJ sets, there is no denying that this initiative has been taken to the extreme. Finally, to celebrate its tenth anniversary, La Felicità, the emblematic restaurant of the Big Mamma group, located not far from the Station F incubator, held a giant techno-disco food court on the 21st of May, between wood-burning ovens and disco balls, with spritz, festive vibes and children’s entertainment (Yoyos aren’t far away…).

Whether relational, cultural or festive, the experiences devised by retailers evolve over time, from the most exclusive, to flatter the ego, to the most shared and surprising, to generate buzz and build a community. But their ambition is always the same: to make consumption an emotional experience. Who wants to be reminded that they’re here to spend money?

Although consumers don’t believe in miracles anymore (you have to grow up eventually), they love nothing more than to feel like they found THE product capable of answering their current concerns. For some, it’s pineapple to ensure a flat stomach and goji berries to protect their health, if it isn’t blueberries, or avocado. For others, it’s the proteins that, added to their drinks or yoghurts, will help them acquire the body they’re hoping for. What ingredient doesn’t dream of being blessed with such power?

The latest ‘it’ ingredient (or “it-gredient”) is the mushroom. It has always been popular in the kitchen, in a variety of gourmet salads, rustic pan-fried dishes and Asian soups, but now its destination is the bathroom, where it is set to become the new star of our beauty routines thanks to its moisturising, antioxidant, revitalising, soothing and firming properties.

Its main advantage is undoubtedly its natural origins. Unlike many popular cosmetic ingredients, mushrooms have a name and a history that are always associated with nature, which makes them even more desirable. Here, there’s no question of hyaluronic acid, retinol or Q10, but of an imaginary world of woodland and caves… even if mushrooms are sometimes grown in old car parks… The white button mushroom, with its many therapeutic properties, is already present in one of Lush’s serums, proof that it’s not condemned to playing a supporting role on four-season pizzas…

The mushroom also has an international reputation, much appreciated by beautistas who see everything that comes from elsewhere as an opportunity to assert their expertise. After shiitake, here come reishi and chaga. The former, nicknamed the ‘mushroom of immortality’, is considered a miracle ingredient in Japan and Korea. The second, rich in antioxidants, is seen as an ally against the signs of ageing, redness and external aggression.

Familiar and natural, simple and mysterious, local and international, easy to eat and versatile in its uses, the mushroom has many virtues. But isn’t its greatest asset its ability to be found in both our kitchens and our bathrooms? Both food and cosmetics, mushrooms are the perfect embodiment of cosmeto-food.

Wikipedia is always an enlightening source of information. For example, it shows that tiramisu does not appear in any cookbooks prior to the 1960s, nor in any dictionaries or encyclopaedias from the 1970s and 1980s. However, it was during the Mitterrand years that tiramisu began to emerge from the trattorias and take pride of place on the menus of Costes establishments and other trendy places, very quickly joined by panacotta, another escapee from the Italian boot. So eighties.

The most learned readers will know that tiramisu comes from the Italian tirami, literally “lift me”, in that case referring to uplifting one’s mood, which was perfectly appropriate in the early 80s when the economic recession was beginning to take its toll. Forty-five years later, Elle magazine tells us that tiramisu is more hype than ever, to the extent that it has freed itself from Mamma’s recipe. Say goodbye to ladyfinger biscuits dipped in coffee and cocoa powder, and make way for imagination, the favourite ingredient of all chefs who consider themselves at the top.

And that is how you get savoury tiramisu (Mamma has just had a heart attack), matcha tiramisu (of course), strawberry-lemon tiramisu (by Lignac, who else?), brownie tiramisu and even Kinder Bueno tiramisu (Gen Z doesn’t respect anything) and other viral Tiktok specials. The #tiramisu has been posted more than five million times. In Bordeaux, Toulouse and Marseille, “Tiramisu Bars” and “Tiramisu Houses” have already appeared, while others are still looking for the right location in the Haut-Marais in Paris.

In the past, culinary talent consisted of perfecting recipes to enhance them and thus preserve tradition; today, it is a matter of reinventing them to make them one’s own. The victory of Me over We.

This sudden appeal of tiramisu, at a time when we are once again going through an economic crisis, is no coincidence. Our plates reflect our tastes as much as the times. What is tiramisu if not a biscuit soaked in whatever one likes, layered with a neutral cream that goes with everything (fruit, ganache…) and sprinkled with anything that can be sprinkled, whatever the colour? A space for free expression within a constrained framework. A perfect metaphor for our consumption in these times of budgetary tension.

At Burger King, the Menu Bon et Pas cher (Literally ‘cheap and good menu’) includes ‘a burger of your choice, a small side dish, a small drink and a small bonus’ at 5 euros. At Lidl, the low prices have been renamed ‘Prix Oui’ (yes prices) and anyone who has seen the advertising campaign created for the occasion now knows that four chocolate dessert creams can be worth 74 cents. The real price of good things? At Action, 70% of products are priced at two euros or less and on the Shein website, new customers can take advantage of a 25% discount on a selection of products for any order over 29 euros… It is hardly surprising that small parcels have become a hot topic in just a few weeks. We could also mention the ‘crêpe menus’ (a crêpe and a drink) at six euros or the one euro coffees on offer at café counters.

For a long time, when it came to accessible brands and products, we talked about discount and low-cost; today, we prefer ‘petits prix’, i.e small prices. The change is far from anecdotal. ‘Petit’, often renamed ‘p’tit’ in a last-ditch attempt to reduce prices even further, is primarily a concrete consumer term, whereas ‘low-cost’, which is more technical, concerns retailers.

A small price, like a small coffee or a small dessert, is a price that seeks to please us when a low price is driven by the idea of saving its brand’s market share. A small price is also a price that seeks to be discreet, almost to disappear from our daily budget equation. It is so small that it doesn’t count, and so cannot affect our desire to buy. No sooner spent than forgotten. Low prices keep the desire alive, while low-cost deals maintain consumption.

A small price is finally a friend’s price, a good deal that we should not pass up, because who knows if it will last? Low-cost offers will always be there. So, of course, the national brands will explain that ‘it’s not comparable’ by insisting on their virtues. But the fact remains. The proliferation of low prices is proof that they are possible. And they are certainly no strangers to the sudden emergence of dupes.

While some prices are small, others now seem too big.

Barilla recently launched Protein+, a range of enriched pasta with 20% of plant-based proteins derived from peas. This is a way of taking advantage of the current craze for protein-rich foods, particularly in the dairy sector with skyr. The target is, of course, young working people looking for alternatives to animal proteins, who are banking on the power of protein to help them look after their well-being and figure, in exchange for a few hours spent ‘at the gym’. In the United States, the protein pasta segment already accounts for 7% of the sector. A little taste of our future.

Functional products are a well-honed marketing exercise. It all started with the ‘no’ products (no fats, no sugars, no colourings, etc.), proof that, paradoxically, you could promise ‘more’ with ‘less’. Light products then took over, to preserve the promise of taste without creating guilt. Now it is time for the enriched products, the ‘new rich’ on the shelves.

Each stage has its own imagery. That of deprivation and control for the ‘no’ group. That of preserving pleasure and keeping the best of both worlds for the light products. And that of all-power for the enriched, which have chosen to give up nothing and promise everything.

By enriching their products, brands are also enriching their promises. It is a way of differentiating themselves from retailer brands (even if the latter are counter-attacking ever more rapidly…) as much as drawing consumers’ attention to products that have become invisible because they have been on the shelves for too long. Jams, drinks and yoghurts all win with a fruit-enriched version of themselves. Chocolates enrich their promises of taste and quality with claimed percentages of cocoa. As for protein products, their promise borders on that of super powers. Tomorrow, why not T-shirts enriched with organic cotton and therefore with a clear conscience? Or trainers enriched with plant-based leather?

Instead of a richer world, it is an enriched world that is taking shape before our very eyes, with its products carrying strong promises of pleasure and self-transformation. While processed products get a bad press, ‘transformative’ products seem destined for a bright future.

The press recently reported that ready-to-wear brand Ba&sh has just launched an ‘active wear’ range (bras, leggings, t-shirts and hoodies) in ‘second-skin’ materials, in a bid to capitalise on the wellness craze that emerged during the health crisis, and in particular the growing success of yoga (10 million people practise yoga in France every year).

Following the example of Ba&sh, more and more fashion brands are finding a new source of growth in sports equipment, driven by the opportunity to slip into the body-mind relationship, when they have traditionally been in the social sphere. Wellness as an art of living and celebrating the body.

To accompany this new offer, Ba&sh has come up with accessories such as yoga mats, tote bags and water bottles, which are always welcome, as well as ‘a programme of immersive and exclusive experiences’ offering activities (yoga, tarot, etc.) and VIP events, as well as a more original programme of inspiring retreats exclusively for women.

Starting this summer, in Biarritz, Barbizon and Ramatuelle, the brand will be offering all-inclusive holidays designed to enable participants to reconnect with their femininity and celebrate their well-being. The package includes yoga, sound meditation, beach walks, lithotherapy, nutrition and mindfulness exercises – between ‘zen attitude’ and ‘festive vibes’, to quote the brand.

While this initiative confirms that the primary destination for travellers is now their own mind, it also illustrates one of the ways in which fashion brands can break away from their original territory, which has become both highly competitive (globalised e-commerce) and less desirable (a poor environmental conscience), in order to maintain their appeal: offering unique hospitality experiences built around a vision of life. It is a way for them to assert themselves as places where people can meet and share, and to extend into real life what they have been able to initiate on social media with their various communities.

Here, the garment is no longer an end in itself, or the purpose of a relationship initiated with a brand; it becomes the key to a universe with values and advantages that will benefit the brand in return. The triumph of the universe over the product.