The Paris Collab

A new era of co-creation in the City of Light.

WORDS: Ninette Paloma

Back in 1765, a little-known English ceramist by the name of Josiah Wedgwood hatched a savvy marketing plan.
Using an experimental embossing technique, he fashioned an earthenware tea set with an ornate pattern and shipped the prototype directly to Queen Charlotte with a note describing her majesty as inspiration for the exclusive design. His flattery won her over, and together they began promoting a dedicated “Queen’s Ware” collection – the world’s first known collab, so the story goes, and still one of Wedgwood’s most popular patterns 260 years later.

Since then, artists and companies the globe over have been banding together in the name of co-creation, sometimes forming noble alliances as Wedgwood (literally) did to birth something greater than the sum of its parts.
Take the pandemic of 2020, for instance, which sparked an era of food centric collabs born out of sheer necessity. The strategy gave rise to winsome bake sales, experimental kitchen takeovers, and charming farm to table brunches. Adjacent approaches like cross-promotion and pop-ups flourished. And even when partnerships jumped the curb and veered sharply toward Peculiar Lane - the chicken-scented clogs from Crocs x KFC comes to mind - the overarching message was a line from Casablanca: "isolationism is no longer a practical policy." 

Head over to Paris, however, and you will notice a fresh and distinctive breed of collaborations sprouting up across the city. Relying less on hyped up marketing and guided, instead, by whimsical themes and casual charm, these intuitive approaches are paving the way for a new wave of curation with lasting impact.

The sun is just starting to peek out over the clouds when I arrive at Floréal Belleville, filling the gallery space with light that dances off the Art Nouveau façade. Camille Gressier and Isabelle Laydier Kristensen of Blumenhaus Magazine are hosting a launch party for their latest issue, and they have partnered with local creatives to build a botanist’s playground for their flora-inspired periodical. Towering baskets of wabi-sabi dahlias and branches of fruit greet guests beneath a maypole ribbon installation by floral designer Ko Hana. At the top of the steps, chef Utaco Okuno has laid out a fanciful spread of  braided bread sculptures and shards of translucent brittle studded with edible flowers. She sprinkles petals onto platters of radish and beet brioche before handing them over to musician Dan Arbre, who passes them around the orange wine-sipping crowd. In the corner, artist Shu Okuno has set up a makeshift chemistry lab and is now demonstrating the genius of his mushroom hydro-distillations. Passersby pick up test tube samples of the earthy elixir and knock them back gamely. From the micro art installations to the painted Poupette biscuits sprinkled across colorful tables, every detail of the evening feels intentional, unified, and delightfully off-handed. 

A week later I am in the Marais on a rainy Sunday afternoon for Mischief restaurant’s Le Scoop – an ice-cream social dreamed up by chef owner Erica Paredes along with Julia Bell of J.J. Hings ice cream and Cakewalk Club’s Khuyen Do. The wraparound dinette counter is filled with smiling customers, all eager to try the sublime frozen desserts paying homage to each woman’s respective roots. There’s a Pho ice cream sundae with a Hoisin ripple, crushed ramen, and candied pepper; an umami-packed waffle sundae with pumpkin sesame miso ice cream and warm hot fudge; baked Alaska with muscat grape sorbet and brown butter ice cream; and a creamy vanilla scoop dressed with salted caramel and crispy french fries. Maybe it’s the infectious energy of these charismatic culinarians, or DJ Mimiss’s old school hip-hop and R&B set, but the Parisian crowd seems downright giddy as they drag their maraschino cherries through fresh Chantilly cream, screaming (or at least loudly campaigning) for more ice cream, s’il vous plait. 

​After dark and on the other side of the river Seine, a dramatic line forms along rue de Sèvres in front of legendary department store Le Bon Marché. Inside, display fixtures are wheeled out of the fragrance department, making room for a cleverly designed and modest stage positioned in the center of the sales floor. Past make-up cases and hat displays, the audience settles into folding chairs arranged around 19th century pillars. For the next hour, choreographer Mourad Merzouki unpacks a high-flying contemporary dance piece that melts dramatically into its unconventional surroundings. When a dancer spins around the aerial fabrics, she activates the perfume display to the right of the stage, sending a swirl of floral notes into the air. The man in front of me sighs dramatically. If I had doubts over the relevance of a retail/ artist collaboration, they dissipate in that magical moment, replaced by the memory of breathtaking synergy and a city embracing intentional connections.