The sound of clinking wine glasses echoed through the air on a recent night as throngs of patrons sipped chilled rosé and nibbled on cheese plates in front of the cafes, restaurants and epiceries that border Place d’ Aligre in the Bastille district of Paris.
Waiters made their way through the crowd, their trays filled with Aperol spritzes and oysters, as more people rushed in to meet friends. The kids played tag and ran to their parents to grab the occasional French fry. Tourists order drinks and pose for Instagram photos that are sure to make their home jealous.
Diners were crammed into the hundreds of seats that had been set up this afternoon. But time is of the essence; the entire inviting setup had to be dismantled before 10pm under strict post-pandemic rules to balance the interests of those who enjoy the scene — and those who disturb it.
Paris has long been known for its bustling cafe culture, with 13,000 open-air terraces covering sidewalks and squares in the pre-pandemic years. But thousands of additional outdoor spaces have sprung up under an emergency program set up to relieve businesses during the Covid lockdowns. They are now permanent, after 2021 order of Mayor Anne Hidalgo allowing them to return annually from April to November.
As a result, parts of Paris that were once vacant or even obscure have become animated destinations, complete with a mini-economic boom.
Place d’Aligre is one of them. Mostly empty on the night before 2020, a vibrant change took place here.
“The scene has completely changed,” said Laurent Zennadi, a manager at Chez Camillea family-run cafe that caters mostly to the morning and lunch crowd from nearby Marche d’Aligre, a food market established in 1779. “No one comes here every night. Now they come from all over Paris.”
In Salvo Olio and Vino en Vrac, an Italian deli sought after for its truffled hams and wine served from barrels, Salvatore Cantarella, the owner, welcomed new clients to Place d’Aligre after receiving a license to open of the “terrace estivale,” or summer terrace. The extra business kept him from entering. “I’m very grateful that there was a positive outcome,” he said.
Most of Paris’ new summer terraces occupy parking spots, nearly 4,000 of which are covered by temporary wooden decks. The banks of the Seine are also covered with pop-up tables, as well as rooftops with panoramic views.
With less space for cars now — and after bike lanes were made permanent in the Covid era — thousands of people are pedaling through the hottest spots in the city.
“It’s so beautiful here,” said Claire-Anne Haines, an event organizer huddled behind a small table with her friends on the parking-space terrace of a bistro on Rue Condorcet in Montmartre. “The terrace looked good while I was cycling, so I told my friends to come,” he said.
All of this plays into a larger blueprint laid out by Ms. Hidalgo to make Paris a more environmentally friendly metropolis by freeing public space from cars and repurposing it for pedestrian and communal activities.
Not everyone welcomes the changes.
Residents’ associations have clashed with the city over the noise generated by the terraces and continue to press authorities over who should control streets and sidewalks.
Critics accuse Ms. Hidalgo allowed businesses to privatize the public domain. Drivers complain about missing parking. And a hashtag, #saccageparis — or “pillage Paris” — has become an outlet for angry people to post photos of ramshackle terraces that they say are a blemish on the city’s beauty.
“The situation is hell,” said Eric Durand, a spokesman for the Droit au Sommeilo Right to Sleep, a group of citizens with representatives in every section of Paris.
The cacophony grew a lot where he lived, near the Rue des Abbesses in Montmartre, he said. Some neighbors have moved. Those who can’t afford it are forced to keep their windows closed or — to the dismay of Parisians — buy air-conditioning units to stay cool on summer nights when the terraces will be full. that blast.
“We want this invasion of public space to stop,” said Mr. Durand.
But at City Hall, officials say summer terraces are here to stay.
“Paris is the city of cafes; they are part of the French art de vivre,” said Olivia Polski, the deputy mayor of Paris responsible for trade, using a French phrase that means “the art of living.”
Today, 4,000 summer terraces are permitted through a paid licence, compared to 14,000 that are free to open under the Covid emergency rules. Terraces must meet new guidelines for aesthetics and noise, and must close at 10 p.m. Loud music is banned, and owners face “an arsenal of penalties and new laws for violations, ” said Ms. Polski, including severe fines or loss of their operating license.
More than 200 were closed last year for violations.
In the Place de la Réunion, a bucolic square in eastern Paris adorned with umbrella pines and an ornate fountain, cafe operators consulted with local residents to address concerns.
“We listened to the neighbors and learned to fix things,” said Perrine Virey, a manager at Café La Chope, whose summer terrace seats up to 130 people, compared to 40 on the cafe’s regular pre-Covid terrace. Solutions include not disposing of bottles at night and starting to move diners out of the plaza at 9:45, he said.
With hundreds of people gathering each night, the area feels safer and more vibrant, locals say. A village atmosphere reigned one evening as children laughed while their parents lingered at the tables. Pink-haired friends sip orange spritzes before heading to an LGBTQ dance club.
In addition to noise complaints, another downside, some Parisians say, is that the terrace project’s success is accelerating gentrification in socially mixed areas. “It pushes poorer people out of the places they used to live,” said Rafael Ludovici, a graduate student.
But in Place d’Aligre, terrace supporters say summer eateries have revitalized the working-class neighborhood. In La Grillea bistro hangout for more than 40 years that nearly went out of business when Covid hit, a dozen new employees were hired to help the growing crowd.
The night before, after Aligre’s food market had closed and the street cleaners had cleaned the pavement, a vintage 1930s Renault truck loaded with tables and chairs rolled up outside La Grille. By 5 p.m., a colorful terrace appeared as if out of nowhere, and an hour later, dozens of patrons settled in.
“It completely adds to the beauty of the place, and creates a connection between people,” said Omar Hammouche, the owner of La Grille, as a stream of habitués stopped to shake his hand.
At Chez Camille, Mr. Zennadi and his family new outdoor seating for about 100 people, on top of the 400 seats added by other cafes in the square. Last year, the family invested about 15,000 euros, or $16,500, for the terrace license and to upgrade the outdoor furniture, among other improvements.
Recently, the cafe even started its own microbrewery, proudly said Mr. Zennadi.
“Nobody wants Covid to happen,” Mr. Zennadi said as friends gathered on the sun-dappled terrace for an aperitif. “But we can be thankful for the good things that came of it.”
Juliette Guéron-Gabrielle contributed reporting.
