A Place to Stay Awhile

Notes from a flâneur, briefly in Paris

Phot Essay, Personal

2026

“So you stroll around without purpose?” You could say that. 


“And you just linger in cafés and take in the atmosphere?” I suppose. 


“And... and you just enjoy wandering a city and observing life?” Very much so. 


You see, as a flâneur, you’re called many things, from a “passionate spectator” to a “documenter of modern life,” but let's skip the formalities and just say he walks around with a camera and too much curiosity. You move through the city with no real destination and no real purpose, taking in the theater of life as it passes by. And in this play (admission is free), you’re now a participant. Here's some of what that looked like on a recent, short stop through Paris:


You pass the hand-lettering shopfront painters, who give the flâneur immense excitement, reminding him there’s still value in handcrafted work.


You end up chatting with the barista at Paolina Café for an hour about thrifting, and the value and design of products from yesteryear.


You notice the man who looks like he's had a rough run of life, and yet even he isn't priced out of the simple luxury of a fresh baguette.


You watch the woman on a bike who has mastered the art of weaving through a dense crowd with one hand, while dragging her wheeled suitcase along with the other.

A flâneur in Paris tries to land a “monsieur” or “madame” every chance he gets, fully aware he probably sounds like an idiot. But he likes to think it always lands with a little charm, simply because he tried.


You might be impressed by the amount of ethnic diversity and multiculturalism around you, while staying aware that, as an outside observer, you don’t fully understand the social dynamics of a place you’re only passing through.


You might be pulled into a whirlpool of memory when you pass by Centre Pompidou, the building whose exposed, color-coded pipes reportedly inspired the first Nike Air shoe, a small discovery as a kid that one creative idea could inspire another, and maybe part of why you ended up chasing a creative career. Passing it by accident in Paris felt like an unexpected full circle.


You cringe a little at the obvious tourist in the bright red beret, then remind yourself that you’ve done equally heinous things in your time, and you turned out alright.


A flâneur might even get a compliment from a stranger (”cool style, nice photographer vibe”) and forget to return a sincere one back. The world needs more kindness, so you remind yourself to be better at sharing compliments. 


You might stumble into the Louvre at sunset after most of the crowds have gone, and find that the experience simply can’t be translated into words.


And of course, there’s the alley cat outside your front door, who greets you goodnight as you get home.

There are a million stories that unfold in front of a flâneur with the right mindset, and it’s impossible to remember them all, but that’s okay. A flâneur is simply there, in the moment. For every moment that sticks, another ten go forgotten. But a flâneur also knows that, from the outside, it sounds ridiculous to have a hobby and a passion built entirely on aimless strolling, but he doesn’t care, because there are few pleasures like discovering a new alley for the first time, or the small thrill of stumbling on impeccable hand-painted signage outside a local café.


He might also admit that it’s a luxury simply to have the time to wander aimlessly for leisure. But in a world where seemingly everything is instant and transaction-based, maybe being a flâneur is a call back to a simpler time. In some ways, it’s a deeply democratic experience: you simply walk and it's available to almost anyone willing to slow down and wander.


And with the luck of a lifetime, it might even be in Paris.