a petition reveals the attachment of the French

Saturday, 8:15 a.m. sharp. Philip, 74, is preparing for his weekly ritual: he leaves his house with his orange shopping cart, heading towards the imposing market which runs several hundred meters, rue de la Chine and rue Belgrand, in the 20th arrondissement of Paris. On weekends, the offering is mainly food and Philip has been frequenting three stalls in particular for over fifteen years: a fishmonger, a poultry merchant and a market gardener. What is he looking for? Contact and advice: “Laurent, the fishmonger, will tell you: “Take that this week.” For Christmas dinner, I asked him if I could make a gravelax with sea trout, much cheaper than salmon. These exchanges cannot be found in the supermarket. »

The next day, Victoria, 27, goes to the Wazemmes market, in Lille (North), which she discovered three years ago: “It’s the biggest in the city,” she explains, “while the one in my neighborhood is very small. It’s a bit far, but I try to go there every week. » Unemployed for a year and a half, Victoria copes with a tight budget: “For 10 euros, I have fruit and vegetables for the week. It’s much cheaper than in supermarkets. And the atmosphere is more friendly: where supermarkets represent capitalism and soulless consumption, the market is a lively place, where you stroll, where you hear people talking. We can chat with the sellers, find out where the products come from. »

A tradition that holds strong

For several decades, outdoor markets – also called fairground markets – have suffered a decline in attendance and an undeniable economic decline. “While they played a central role in household food supply until the 1950s-1960s,” underlines geographer Aurore Navarro, author of a thesis on the subject, “markets, often located in city centers, were gradually faced with competition from supermarkets in the outskirts, and today appear on the fringes of French food retailing. » However, while their obsolescence seemed planned in the 1980s and 1990s, consumers are showing renewed interest in them, particularly in large cities.

The full-blown markets continue to show resistance. Among their strengths, the short circuit offer and direct sales by producers feature prominently. Thanks to them, city dwellers can stay connected to the agricultural world. This is one of the reasons that attracts Laura, 60 years old.

“Going to the market is my holiday pleasure,” confides this Parisian familiar with seasonal rentals and rural gîtes. ““What are the market days?” is one of the first questions I ask my hosts, after asking for a list of emergency numbers. By listening and adopting the rhythm of the traders and other customers, I put myself a little in tune with the region that I have come to discover. »

In Marvejols (Lozère), La Roche-Posay (Vienne), Moëlan-sur-Mer (Finistère) or Aillant-sur-Tholon (Yonne), the smallest markets are not the least popular, she rejoices: “Each has its own local color. In Ars-en-Ré (Charente-Maritime), I remember striped hammocks swinging in the sun. In Amboise (Indre-et-Loire), on Sundays, the market runs along the banks of the Loire for hundreds of meters. In spring, at the same time as the Chaumont-sur-Loire International Garden Festival (Loir-et-Cher), horticulturists sell rose bushes. »

A bond that is established

Because food is far from being the only family of products offered for sale. Textiles and manufactured products largely hold the upper hand. And where certain activities mark time, other proposals renew the attractiveness. This is the case with small restaurants. Galettes, couscous, pizzas… everything is good to prolong the moment.

In Wazemmes, “you can find cooked meals,” reports Victoria, who often takes North African dishes to take away. I go there on Sunday, before noon to avoid the crowds, then I have coffee or lunch with friends. It makes the day a little less gloomy! » In Paris, Philip saw a shellfish seller setting up tables where fans had lunch, at the end of the market, of a few oysters and a glass of wine.

This form of commerce, perhaps the oldest in France, is undoubtedly foreigners who talk about it best. “The market is very human,” says Philip, who worked there for six months upon his arrival from South Africa in 1981. The merchants make up a sort of small community that meets regularly. They work hard, they joke, they call each other from one stand to another. The humor is very present. Sellers appreciate it when we communicate with them, by giving them feedback on a product purchased the previous week, for example. There is really a connection that is established. »

In search of recognition

Victoria testifies: “One day, when I went to the market during rush hour and felt oppressed by the crowds, a seller offered to sit behind his stand so that I could rest. It was very nice! » A spontaneous solidarity that is structured: “Last week, I went for the first time to the Gleaners’ Tent set up on the market. It’s an association that was born here and is spreading across France, to donate unsold items. One of my friends who doesn’t have enough money to eat enough took me there. I got canned goods, vegetables, bread there. Volunteers push to take what is there, because what is not given is thrown away. »

Territorial anchoring, proximity offering, sociability… It is this unique cocktail that the Bensidoun group, market organizer, and the National Federation of Markets of France want to defend. In September 2025, inspired by the precedent of bistros in 2024, they launched a petition to have the open-air markets, initially in the Ile-de-France region, included in the National Inventory of Intangible Cultural Heritage. (read box below).

The idea received the support of many elected officials, well placed to know what municipal life owes to these living spaces. Its defenders hope to see their approach succeed in 2026. And why not then push the application to UNESCO? Until then, the best way to maintain these ephemeral businesses is to go to the market.