Flâneusing in France
What I’m learning about how to live
Flâneuse (from the French, feminine form of flâneur): an idler, a dawdling observer, usually found in cities.
I’m a walker. Yes, I also like getting around in other ways, as my most recent Sidecar Story on mountain biking in Armenia will attest. Put me on anything with wheels, wings, or a slide-y underside and I’m generally in my element, especially when the way ahead is clear of obvious obstacles and the wind is at my back. Still, walking is my go-to.
Growing up in a relatively small town I walked to school, to activities, to shops and jobs and parks and friends’ homes – so reliance on my own two feet was embedded early. As an adult I’ve generally sought out living spaces where a car is purely optional. Besides being a practical and reliable form of transport, walking allows one to go at a pace appropriate for the situation, whether that may be a jaunt, a stroll, a saunter, or the many thousands of ways one can use one’s own two feet to move.
I’ve been spending these summer weeks in France and was recently reminded of a marvelous French word related to walking: flâneuse. See definition above. The term implies wandering through a city without a particular purpose or destination in mind, but with curiosity and a sense of adventure, and generally away from the center of things or the crowd so as to keep a detached perspective. Historically, the flâneur/ flâneuse has often incorporated their observations into their work - as artists, writers, or other occupations that benefit from detached surveillance and reflection.
If you know something about me you can imagine why this resonates with me. It’s essentially the way I live my life and practice my craft. On a literal level, flâneusing is one of my favorite forms of walking, especially when I’m not simply walking to get from here to there, or to meet my 10,000 steps goal. It allows me to stay firmly in curiosity mode, my lens taking in the broad scope, the non-obvious, the quirky detail, and later to reflect on my observations and sometimes draw lessons from them. Yesterday I flâneused into a bookstore and spotted a book whose French title translated to “Women Who Write Live Dangerously.” (!) (I didn’t realize the occupational hazards of my craft.) A few wandering blocks later, allowing my gaze to elevate, I noticed a sign for a restaurant, Là-Haut, strangely situated on the top floor of an industrial-looking building. I was guessing that the term là-haut meant “summit.” Close. It means “up there” or “beyond.” So, of course, I had to make reservations. Ooh lah lah what a meal! My taste buds tingled from aperitif through dessert. I rounded out my meal with the server’s suggestion of vielle prune, a Swiss-made liqueur derived from old plums. “It’s strong,” the server explained, “but not aggressive.” Hmmm. That describes so many of the adventurous women leaders I’m privileged to coach. Don’t be surprised if you hear me referring admiringly to my coaching clientele as old plums from now on!
As an approach to coaching and gathering adventurous souls together, I embrace my inner flâneuse on the regular. I enter these spaces from a stance of curiosity, of detached (though interested!) observation, of not knowing our ultimate destination but noticing what catches our attention and emotion and heading that way for a spell, often spotting interesting new possibilities as we go along. If we’d had a specific target in mind and kept aiming toward that at all costs, we’d have met our goal – and missed out on so much!
I’d be remiss not to point out that flâneusing has a whole set of connotations that flâneuring simply doesn’t. It’s the woman thing. Walking/wandering city streets with no particular purpose is a freedom that has remained elusive for many women – historically, societally, culturally. It’s challenging for women to remain in background observer mode while on city streets, as probing eyes will judge her. Pioneering French flâneuses tended to be seen as rebellious, radical, or even immoral. In some parts of the world even today, our sisters are unable to walk unaccompanied by males in public spaces. And at the dire end of things, a woman walking solo is too often subject to catcalling, harassment, and violence. I, for one, do not advocate that women stop themselves from flâneusing because of potential judgments or risks. I do advocate for making city streets, and indeed all public spaces, safe and comfortable for flâneuses (and their sisters who walk or simply occupy space for whatever reason).
Because taken at another level, a metaphorical one, women 1) deserve to be in the same public spaces as men – whether that is walking, leading, or simply being present without fear of being judged or violated, 2) bring important observations and reflections that may be different from their male counterparts and help round out a wholistic view on the community being observed.
I, for one, will continue to flaneuse my way through city streets, through life, and through coaching – because I find it exciting and rewarding, and because it allows me to observe the world from a stance of curiosity and wonder that, I believe, benefits the old plums and other adventurous souls whom I have the privilege of accompanying on walks of many types.
Yours in idling and dawdling,
Bridget
