For our fall  issue, and on the heels of Paris Fashion Week and Highsnobiety’s Not In Paris activation, we asked a handful of writers and designers to give us a short essay –– or prose poem or something in between –– about something they found in Paris that changed them. Could be an article of clothing. Could be a phrase. Could be a meal. For Eileen Myles, it was language. For Arisa White, it was a dress. Natasha Stagg wrote about a perfect tee shirt. Ryota Iwai told us about a new tea routine. And Marine Serre described a bicycle. 

At a young age, my grandfather instilled in me the art of finding beauty in things forsaken by time. This philosophy now not only guides my work but also my approach to daily life: “To love is to repair.” It’s a principle that resonates within me and drives me to see the potential in every abandoned object. It guides my professional endeavors as well as the more personal aspects of my life.

And it’s how I discovered my faithful companion on the road, a bright yellow bike, a true gem from the 1980s, that unexpectedly changed my life. 

I was on a walk, enjoying taking my time and observing people strolling by, each with their stories reflected on their faces; the quaint shops that promised hidden treasures, and abandoned objects, which, for some, had so much to tell. I made a turn down an alley and there it was, nearly completely hidden under a pile of dead leaves, devoid of its wheels but still attractive with its bright color. As my eyes landed on it, I could see that its frame, though marked by the years, seemed sturdy, a testament to the quality of its design and craftsmanship. Its bright yellow gleam contrasted attractively with the dreariness of its surroundings, like a reminder of its glorious past — a past that seemed to be patiently waiting to be revealed again. It was clear: it deserved a second life.

With determination tinged with love, I set out to restore its former beauty. I replaced its worn tires with new ones, added handlebar tape for optimal comfort during my rides, and of course, a horn to navigate through the crowded streets of Paris. Gradually, it regained its flashy ’80s physique. 

Today, this bike is much more than just a means of transportation. It has become the symbol of my freedom, of my urban escapades to the studio where I create, of my weekend strolls along the canal, and even my excursions into the woods, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It embodies my connection with the city, with nature, with myself. Every pedal stroke is a declaration of independence, an affirmation of my ability to see beauty where others see the mundane. And for that, I am eternally grateful to it.