Couturiers, spirit-makers and neon-sign merchants are among the 600 artisans opening their ateliers next month to showcase their traditional trades
Stepping into the Brûlerie de Belleville in Paris’s 19th arrondissement feels like entering an old-fashioned apothecary. Floor-to-ceiling dark wooden shelves filled with glass jars, tins of roasted coffee beans and a huge variety of coffee makers line the walls; bar counters are topped with wine-coloured marble where you can sip on freshly made espresso.
The Brûlerie is one of Paris’s oldest quality coffee roasters and one of the artisans taking part in this year’s ParisLocal, a festival held over three days in November to promote locally made, environment-friendly businesses and craftsmanship.
I start my day touring the city’s ateliers (workshops) and meeting its artisans, fuelled, of course, with a jolt of caffeine. Ludovic Gossart is a chirpy barista with a trimmed Wes Anderson moustache, green postman shorts and matching cap. He asks me what I drink normally (supermarket Lavazza), how I make it (an Italian moka pot), and what I like in a coffee (I have no answer for this), as if he’s a doctor preparing a diagnosis.
Then he starts to weigh and grind beans, putting the result in a ceramic Japanese filter, over which he gently pours hot water in a circular motion. The result, poured into clear glasses, is a dark caramel colour, translucent like tea. He does all this while animatedly giving me a potted history of coffee: the global market, production and consumption around the world. If it sounds frenetic, that’s because it is. But there’s something contagious about his passion for coffee, and as soon as I taste its smooth, clean, almost fruity notes, I feel evangelised.
“Once you step into the world of coffee, you can’t drink normal coffee again!” he tells me gleefully, seeing the look on my face. In the conservatory next door, the beans are being roasted. An earthy smell of bonfire, toasted bread and caramelising fruit fills the shop. I want to stay and taste more coffees, but it’s time to head to the next stop on my itinerary, the workshop of neon artist Alexis Dandreis.
Although neon is usually associated with the bombastic lights of Vegas or the twinkle of Tokyo, it actually has a distinctly Parisian history. French engineer Georges Claude commercialised neon in the early 20th century, and there are very few néonistes who still use the traditional method, rather than the now more common LED.
We are the environment-friendly option, creating distinctive, affordable pieces that you can pass on to your children
Johanna Braitbart, couturier
“It’s a dying métier. Neon represents craftsmanship, whereas mass-produced LEDs can be thrown away easily,” Dandreis tells me. He lights a giant blowtorch, making the air wobble, until the flame turns blue and roars. Then, dipping a glass tube into the liquid heat, he turns it slowly until it is hot enough and, with a supple gesture, bends it into a perfect U shape. As he places it back on his desk, the wooden surface singes slightly, a tiny curl of smoke rising like a music note. “What I do is creative, but with a large dose of technical skill,” he says, pointing out the intricate designs he creates for artists and interior design clients. Visitors to the festival in November can see glass-moulding demonstrations throughout the day and even sign up for introductory workshops to try it out themselves.
Around 600 artisans across the greater Paris area are opening their doors from 17-19 November to people curious to learn about crafts still being practised. One such artisan is Johanna Braitbart, who has been making fashion accessories in Paris for 25 years. In her small studio in the Marais district, her table by the window is covered with a maelstrom of pins, swatches of fabric, threads, beads, scissors and tape measures. Over her career, she’s watched as small artisans have been forced to leave central Paris because of rising rents and the gentrification of traditional business neighbourhoods. Many couturiers have been bought up by major fashion labels or squeezed out by them. For Braitbart, ParisLocal is a welcome opportunity to put the focus back on small artisans.
“If you want a unique, quality piece that is going to last a long time – come to us, the artisans! We are the environment-friendly option, creating distinctive, affordable pieces that you can pass on to your children,” she says.
Sustainability is a common refrain among the artisans I speak to, and one of the main themes of the festival. Many artisans have already noticed a gradual change in people’s style of consumption. “Everyone is starting to rethink their buying habits. People want to consume less, and do it better and less stupidly,” Gossart told me.
At Distillerie du Viaduc, a spirits maker run by two bearded Frenchmen, Théo Boussion and Quentin de Montgolfier, everything is made with ingredients from mainland France and Corsica. “You’ll never find pineapple in our products. Even if we were to export from overseas French territories, the environmental cost is just too high,” de Montgolfier says.
ParisLocal helps people discover what it means to be an artisan. The more we explain what we do, the more people understand the product and the price
Quentin de Montgolfier, distiller
The two founded the distillery in June last year, and moved into a large, two-level railway arch under the Viaduc des Arts, a converted train line in the east of the city that has become a hub for artisans looking for industrial-sized spaces. They use traditional copper alembics and make six types of gin; aquavit; a pastis-like aperitif they call “Pastiche”; and anise- and mint-flavoured liquors. Sustainability underlines the whole business. They’ll buy alcohol that has gone wrong, like a restaurant’s entire beer delivery where all the beer has gone flat, then distil it to make a whisky. “Distillation is recycling – that’s something that’s been forgotten,” says de Montgolfier. “The idea is to waste nothing – even what’s taken out in the distilling process can be used to wash the floors.” That philosophy even applies to the packaging: their bottles are made of recycled glass, but customers can also bring in their own to fill from the barrel.
“ParisLocal helps people discover what it means to be an artisan. The more we explain what we do, the more people understand the product and understand the price,” he added.
The breadth of crafts on display in the ParisLocal catalogue shows that craftsmanship is still part of the city’s fabric – despite headwinds like rising rents and competition from big brands. Visitors and Parisians can follow themed itineraries in the festival or zigzag around, exploring workshops and perhaps taking a bit of craftmanship home, to add a Parisian touch to their morning coffee or after-work aperitif.
Source: The Guardian
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