I had a lot of trouble “French Sunday” — a concept recently explored in Vogue — when I first landed in France, though not more than I struggled to eat lunch before 3:30 PM or dinner after 8. I came from New York City, where you do as you like — at least in terms of the timing of your meals — without much social judgment. Lunch came late because I had a busy job; dinner came early because my mom, a farmer’s daughter, served it at 5:30 PM — an eye-popping time by French standards.
But the French often do things their own way, especially in terms of timing: There is a time to work, and a time to have roast chicken dinners with your parents, and these are almost never simultaneous. Ergo French Sundays, reserved (so they say, or at least so Vogue would put it) for endless meals, market shopping, and rest.
This is a specific version of Gallic life that is far from universal, and one as packaged to be attractive to non-French as Madewell T-shirts wishing people bonnes vacances. Many Parisians shop at 7 PM on Sunday evening, many Frenchies work out of necessity or preference on Sundays, and the roast-chicken-family-dinner thing is a stereotype of a certain style of bourgeois traditional living — one that is often taken for the whole of French life from afar.
Indeed, this specific version of French life, and “French Sundays,” closely resemble some U.S. #tradlife ambitions, with fewer performative Instagram posts. To be sure, French Sundays are better, because they require practices that usually feel good — rest, relaxation, time for leisure and enjoyment — rather than the performative anxiety that undergirds the #tradlife aesthetic. There’s much we can take from them, in structuring our own restorative days of rest.
Here’s how French Sundays can work — and how you can consider them chez toi.
1. Commerce ends — around lunchtime
How it works: Even in my busy neighborhood in Paris, many shops close at lunchtime, a few not to reopen until Tuesday(!). Sundays are not a time for shopping — for conducting business, in a way — but for cooking, eating, relaxing, and s’amuser’ing. This sequesters shopping to the other days of the week while making space to enjoy whatever those purchases may have been: wearing new clothes to a gathering, preparing a meal with a morning trip to the grocery store, etc.
Is it good? How many terrible trips to Target, or IKEA, or the mall have I made at 3 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon, only to return depleted of $30 and newly the owner of something incredibly stupid? Lock all the doors! Sundays are better without rote shopping trips.
2. It’s a time for specialty markets
How it works: Sunday morning is time for flea markets and fruit and vegetable markets — weekly rituals offering variability and surprise, as well as inspiration for what to cook for Sunday dinner. All the biggest markets are scheduled for Sunday mornings, often closing up shop right before or after lunch.
Is it good? It is great. First you have the anticipation of the weekly event, and then the surprise that it will offer: What will be newly in season? What unexpected offering might be found at the flea market? (Unlike Target, I’ve rarely been let down by my flea purchases. This is my fault, but still.)
3. Sunday lunch is a big, family affair
How it works: Notwithstanding the tremendous power of Sunday brunches between friends, the most “French Sunday” of all Sunday rituals I ever participated in was the traditional Sunday lunch with family, often featuring, say, a roast chicken.
Is it good? Well, this depends on how much you like your family, and how much you enjoy cooking for a large party. But surely there’s something to take in the ritual of eating and spending time with the people you like most, whoever they are, and without the constant interruptions of a busy weeknight free-for-all.
4. It’s a time for games!
How it works: The one and only time I spent visiting my first French boyfriend’s family in the countryside, I was amazed and confused by how much time they spent together (this might be mostly relative to my family, lol) and by the array of games they played: board games, card games, sports, archery. It was fun! It was exhausting! By late afternoon I wished very much that I was home in New Jersey, watching television by myself in my childhood bedroom.
See also: All the people playing pétanque in the parks.
Is it good? I personally found it slightly overwhelming, and I noticed that all that time together did not seem to make them any more emotionally tight than my own family, with our lower tolerance for non-stop game-playing. But it was fun! It is delightful in memory. In practice, I wanted some American me-time.
5. It’s a time for rest — not work
How it works: Nowhere else have I experienced such a separation between work and the rest of life, God bless France. Coming from New York, where I (and everyone I worked with) often caught up on work over the weekend, I obviously continued in this path for quite a long time — when else could I get enough separation from the office to think clearly about what I needed to get done? I also loved my job so much and was grateful for the extra time to work on projects I enjoyed — which is itself not such a common perspective in France.
Is it good? It is good for the French, who have radically advanced labor protections relative to ours. And it is probably good for anyone whose work is enhanced by rest and periods of time away from it (ie everyone). But it felt bad, and certainly contributes to a perspective that work is not a place for spending our most valuable time.
6. It is not a time for outside obligations
How it works: All I know is that the clubs and organizations to which I belonged rarely met on Sundays — unlike what I experienced in the U.S. through the families I knew best, with a never-ending string of obligations: team practice, rehearsals, competitions, etc etc etc.
Is it good? I can’t say, since I don’t have kids who are obligated to participate in all of those activities, but it certainly seemed to me like French families were less stressed than American ones.
7. It Is a time for staring out the window
How it works: Self evident.
Is it good? It is great, wherever you are.
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