5 senses:

I have a confession to make before I begin: I have never set foot in France.

I haven’t walked down the Seine, I possess zero European heritage, and my everyday life is rooted in the relentless speed of New York City. Yet my digital publication is named Très Cher—a French phrase that translates to “dearest”. For years, I observed French aesthetics, culinary discipline, and philosophy from afar.

This month, I decided to test that fascination in real life. I wanted to understand joie de vivre—not through mood boards, but by living it out inside Manhattan. I spent a day grounding myself in French history: how Haussmann’s boulevards were carved for walking, how simple bistro cooking became protected heritage, and how textiles were codified as state power.

I mapped authentic French corners across the city, ready to immerse myself. But across five days of testing the lifestyle, I’m grateful that the true revelations were distinct behavioral lessons.

Lesson I: The Art of Deceleration (Slowing Down Where It Counts)

As a New Yorker, I quickly ran into a physical wall: you cannot force a leisurely stroll down 5th avenue at 7:00 AM without finance bros bypassing on the sidewalk.

So I moved the slowness to where I actually had control: my mornings and meals. I eliminated early screen alarms, made time for an afternoon coffee at Fauchon by Bryant Park, and sat down at Boucherie in the West Village for a beautiful dinner of escargots. In New York, eating is usually treated like an administrative chore. Sitting over warm garlic-herb butter without checking my phone forced a two-hour pause. I couldn’t slow the city down, but for once, I was slowing down and I 100% recommend.

Lesson II: Curation over Caricature (Keeping What Works, Dropping What Doesn’t)

I loved the ease of access to French groceries, the deliberate pace of seated dining, and the immediate acoustic shift of playing 1960s chanson and French pop while driving through the city. But other elements didn’t translate. Watching Moulin Rouge! on Broadway gave me a clear look at the historical tension between Bohemian grind and high-society wealth, but also reminded me that theatrical excess has limits.

Meanwhile, stumbling through broken French with a couple on the West Side Highway was deeply humbling. It cured me of the need to perform perfection. True appreciation isn’t adopting an entire culture wholesale; it’s auditing its values on a deeper level and keeping only what brings genuine ease to your own life.

Lesson III: The Architecture of Appreciation (Friends and Fashion)

The most lasting shift of the week happened in how I showed up for my circle and myself.

“Friends meetup @ 7.45” on my calendar- I realized socializing in New York often turns into networking over calendar links. Adopting a French approach meant stripping away the agenda: pouring French wine, sharing food with friends, and sitting together simply to talk.

That ease extended straight into my wardrobe. Studying French couture and silhouettes reinforced the power of restraint. I stopped over-engineering outfits with loud accessories and focused on clean tailoring, breathable fabrics, and a single bold red lip. Dressing well stopped being about proving status and became an exercise in quiet self-possession.

5 senses verdict: 5/5 unlocked

Sound: The breathy cadence of 1960s love songs playing in the car, paired with the humbling reality of spoken French on a windy West Side Highway.
Taste: Garlic-herb butter over escargots in the West Village, morning viennoiserie, and an unhurried espresso in Bryant Park.
Sight: Standing before the French masterpieces at The Met, the dramatic, velvet-draped Belle Époque stagecraft at Moulin Rouge! and the quiet restraint of clean street tailoring with a bold red lip.
Touch: Crisp Très Cher button-downs, the cool stem of a wine glass shared among friends, and the tactile steering wheel on an evening drive.
Smell: A signature mist of Maison Margiela REPLICA on wool lapels, the ambient wax of Diptyque candles in the evening, and the warm crust of a fresh bakery baguette carried through the morning air.

If you catch me doused in Maison Margiela REPLICA while power-walking past slow tourists in Midtown, just look away. The French mindset is still loading.

Until next time,
Très Cher