Paris Goes Back to School: The Case for Month-Long Vacations

Ask any Parisian what he or she loves about New York, and they’ll inevitably gush about its energie. It’s true that Paris can feel sleepy in comparison (which is actually why I love it), but I would argue that there is no better energy than that of Paris in September.

This moment is known as “la rentrée,” when the locals return from their summer vacations (many of which span the entire month of August), looking great and feeling even better. Whether they’ve been surfing in Biarritz, lounging in Provence, or schmoozing in St. Tropez, they return to Paris revitalized, rejuvenated, practically reborn—not to mention seriously bronzed.

The lengthy summer vacation is sacred—and practically mandatory—in France. My first boss in Paris used to leave his entire business in the hands of his highly unprepared assistant (which would have been me, had I worked for him in August) for the entire month. His livelihood was one thing, but les vacances? We don’t mess with this tradition. After all: all work and no play makes Parisians a very cranky bunch. And so, they play. And they don’t compromise, because vacation is a fundamental human right.

To those of us not living in Europe, the idea of taking four consecutive weeks off to do absolutely nothing sounds absurd, but behind our eye-rolling, we’re insanely jealous. To think, I spent August in New York, sweating and brooding and “working” (though the heat had slowed my cervical capacity to the point where remembering how to turn on my laptop felt like a triumph). All the while, beach-themed dreams danced through my head.

The painful truth: those who actually spent August on a beach will probably get a lot more done this month than I will. And they’ll probably live longer as well. I don’t have stats to back this up, but my own anthropological research (which involves creepily perching on park benches and at cafes to observe Parisians) would suggest that September is the most productive month in France.

Never forget that when it comes to leisure, the French know what they’re doing. And as they return to Paris, looking as though they’ve spent the summer happily bathing in olive oil and inhaling lavender-infused breezes, there’s no doubt they’re onto something.

That’s it. Next summer we’re all going to Cap Ferrat. See you there.