Words by Eleni Leokadia
It’s rare to find a festival where Major Lazer and gospel choirs share the same air — but of course, Fête de la Musique isn’t your average festival. By now, unless you’ve been living under a rock (or maybe deep in a Wi-Fi-free zen retreat), you’ve seen it go viral — and with it, its British invasion.
Whether you came to enjoy some jazz at Sunset Sunside, gospel at Place Vendôme, or wanted to let loose to amapiano beats, Fête de la Musique had a set for you. The lineup this year was as eclectic as ever: Byron Messia, Major Lazer, Diplo, A$AP Nast, Len, Tiffany Calver and many more — all channeling FDLM’s signature blend of global energy.
What started as a grassroots love letter to music — a call to arms dreamt up by Maurice Fleuret in 1982 Paris to drag sound out of concert halls and into the streets (after discovering that 1 in 2 French people could play a musical instrument) — is now a free-for-all auditory battleground taking over France.
Big brands are sliding in, funding stages, spotlighting underground artists, and hosting afterparties for those who don’t want the night to end. (Big kudos to Puma, by the way, for bringing Brazilian funk collective Bonde das Maravilhas out — my knees will never be the same.)
It’s tempting to call it a win.
But where’s the line between uplifting culture and diluting its soul? Between support and infiltration?
Luckily — or not, if you’re struggling to find your Airbnb keys after a sensational Recess set in Châtelet — FDLM is still too chaotic, too raw, to be packaged. And maybe that’s its saving grace.
Because who better to give you riot and runway than the French?
After all, it was never just about the sets.
It’s about GCSE-level French conversations while trying to figure out when the next act starts. About locals teaching you how to use a Navigo pass in half-English. The French mocking your accent while English boys scream “wesh” back at them.
It’s about the crowd eating snacks from the North African store, trying to decode which number the McDonald’s worker just called. (It’s confusing — the French say it the other way around.)
And it’s about what people wore, of course — which is always spot-on.
Less about trends, more about identity.
We saw it all:
All of it thrown together in a country that just passed a law cracking down on fast fashion and disposable style. The timing couldn’t be more poetic.
“Do you think that Gucci hat is real?” a girl behind me asked.
Probably not.
But the vibe? Still 100%.
Everyone wore what represented them — whether Parisian born and bred or stuffing it all into their carry-on. In a buzzing, high-energy Paris, they all blended in. After all, Paris and London are meant to be twin cities.
The perfectly sunny weather only added to the sense of freedom — making everyone feel a little more adventurous, as if the day itself was a collective invitation to put on your favourite outfit and bring out your best self.
And this year, with FDLM landing just two days before Paris Fashion Week, a lot of fashion folk came early — using the festival as an entrée before runway season kicked off.
It gave the crowd an extra layer: flashes of Parisian chic among the masses — lace, pearls, designer flourishes, and pointy heels. Tall, beautiful models ran to sets after castings, dressed in simple jeans but still standing out.
It added another texture to the mix — more proof that the festival is merging crowds that otherwise might never cross paths.
French grand-mères bopping their heads to Skepta.
British youths discovering Aya Nakamura.
At Fête de la Musique, anything goes.
But every outfit, every track, every side-eye across a crowded Métro platform — they all leave an impression. The festival might be growing, shifting, even flirting with commercialism.
But for now, it still feels like the kind of chaos you’d only find in Paris.
And that’s something worth dressing up for.
