There’s an unspoken uniform associated with French girls. You know the one: black mini skirts, marinière striped tops, sheer tights, and not a beret in sight (unless you’re Emily, of course). But let’s be honest, while that cliché might hold some truth, French style is far more nuanced.
In reality, French girls come in many sartorial moods, and one of the clearest ways to decode their personality is by looking at where they like to shop. Some are loyal to the polished femininity of Sézane or the vintage-inspired charm of Rouje. Others gravitate toward the effortless edge of Isabel Marant. And then there are those who treasure the thrill of the hunt for the coolest finds at vintage stores, flea markets, and online secondhand retailers like Vinted.
No matter their lane, one thing is true: French girls are loyal to their aesthetic. Their favorite brands aren’t just where they shop, they’re reflections of who they are. We’ve selected some of the most-loved French brands and what they reveal about the French girls who wear them.
Sézane
Founded by the OG Frenchie Morgane Sézalory, Sézane has grown far beyond its Parisian roots, but it still embodies a distinctly French blend of femininity and nostalgia. The aesthetic? Part Little-House-on-the-Prairie, part Left Bank bookshop, with soft knits, vintage-inspired prints, worn denim, and bags that feel both timeless and playful. The Sézane girl likely grew up in the 5ème, not far from her family (who still live in the neighborhood). She has strong family values, a sentimental streak, and a wardrobe that’s modern and lovingly nostalgic. She might borrow a scarf from her grandmother, but just as likely, her grandmother might borrow her cardigan. She gravitates toward pieces that feel lived-in, full of history, and made to last. And at night, she’s probably dancing to Brazilian music in a tucked-away bar in the 11ème, wearing the same blouse she wore to the market that morning.
The Frankie Shop
Minimalist, polished, and unmistakably cool, The Frankie Shop is for the French girl who thrives on clean lines and quiet confidence. Her wardrobe leans oversized, featuring blazers and masculine trousers, but nothing ever feels borrowed or boxy. Every piece is intentional, structured, and just the right amount of undone. She probably lives in the 3ème or near Canal Saint-Martin, but most likely hails from Lyon’s Croix-Rousse. She works in branding, fashion, or art direction, drinks her coffee black, and prefers a sleek bun over a messy wave. She believes that less is more. Her style is practical, but never at the cost of elegance. No logos, no fuss. Her idea of power dressing is tonal layering and a shoulder pad. Her closet may look neutral, but her choices are anything but.
Isabel Marant
Bohemian but never messy, romantic without being soft, the Isabel Marant girl is all about nonchalant glamour with a touch of rock-and-roll. She’s the kind of French girl who grew up going to concerts in Parc Floral, now splits her time between Paris and the Basque coast, and has probably perfected the art of throwing on suede boots and a draped jacket to complete an outfit in under five minutes. When she grows up, she will naturally upgrade to Chloe. Her look is disheveled in a constructed way with embroidered blouses, leather trousers, slouchy knits, metallic details, and always, always a sense of movement. Her fringe is grown out, her perfume smells vaguely like sandalwood, and she owns more vintage jewelry than she lets on. She’s probably a chef or runs a cute coffee shop in Paris, but she plans to move to the South one day.
Le Petit Bateau
The French girl who still swears by Le Petit Bateau is a child at heart, but also the smartest of them all (kids clothes are cheaper after all, and even though the brand has an adult line she can fit into a child’s size L or XL). She’s nostalgic without being sentimental. The kind who still wears marinière stripes because they remind her of her childhood in Bretagne or Normandy. Her wardrobe is full of basics: white cotton tees, sailor collars, navy sweaters, and underwear that’s soft enough to sleep in but cut like it belongs in a Nouvelle Vague film. She probably studied literature or philosophy, rides her bike everywhere, and would rather re-read Bonjour Tristesse than go out. She believes in uniforms, in well-made things, and in never overspending. She has the quiet confidence of someone who’s worn the same raincoat since lycée and still looks better than anyone else in the room. And if she has a daughter, she’s already passing down her Petit Bateau tees because style, like language, is learned young in France.
Jacquemus
The Jacquemus girl is unmistakable; she’s an influencer for sure. You’ll spot her walking down Rue Saint-Honoré or basking in the sun at Café de l’Industrie, oversized raffia hat in hand and a linen blazer barely clinging to her bronzed shoulders. She probably lives somewhere between the Marais and the South of France: Paris for work, Provence for weekends. She might not even be from France, but she doesn’t even remember when she moved there, and her accent is so good that no one ever notices. She dreams in pastel, lives for apéro, and always somehow ends up barefoot at a party she didn’t plan to go to. She’s probably a model or works in fashion. She doesn’t care about trends per se; she cares about silhouettes, fabrics, sun-drenched color palettes, and the way her dress moves in the wind. She has a thing for straw accessories, exposed skin, and the flirtiness of being just out of reach. Her phone case is probably bright yellow or watermelon pink, and she’ll always choose a countryside wedding over a black-tie one. She’s sensual but relaxed, like your coolest friend’s art school girlfriend. Her favorite pastime? Road trips to Marseille in a borrowed car, swimming in the calanques, and dancing with salty hair and wine-stained lips.
American Vintage
The American Vintage girl is low-key. She’s the one who always looks amazing in a plain white tank and slouchy jeans, no logos, just that balance of softness and structure. She likely lives in Bordeaux, bikes everywhere, and picks up her morning coffee from a corner spot that doesn’t have a sign. She works in something that requires an ability to put everyone around her at ease, whether that’s hotel management or social work. Her wardrobe is filled with muted tones, buttery knits, worn-in tees, and overshirts. She doesn’t like fast fashion or flashiness, and she hates spending money on clothes (just the essentials!). She prefers pieces that feel like they’ve already lived a life. Her idea of fun? Spontaneous dinners with too much natural wine, and playlists full of The Blaze and Françoise Hardy.
Soeur
The Soeur girl is the definition of quiet confidence. She’s that understated French woman who always looks impeccably put together without ever appearing like she tried. She’s adulting for real. She gravitates toward loose-fitting silhouettes, earthy palettes with oversized blazers, white shirts, wide-leg trousers, and chic sandals. She might be a lawyer, or launching a startup. She lives between the 6ème and 7ème, in a sunlit apartment filled with hand-thrown ceramics, but she dreams of moving back to her home city of Annecy or Grenoble. For fun, she visits independent cinemas, browses museums on quiet weekday afternoons, and hosts intimate dinners where the food is simple but the conversation is layered. She reads Le Monde on the weekend, always has a tote bag with a novel inside, and prefers walking to taking the métro.
The Kooples
The Kooples girl is the dark-haired, sharp-boned rebel of the Paris fashion set. She is cool, elusive, and always dressed like she’s just stepped out of a late-night gig or a clandestine date. She lives in a moody Haussmannian apartment in the 3rd, probably with a musician boyfriend and a record collection. Her uniform is undone: slim blazers, leather jackets, lace camisoles, skinny jeans, and ankle boots worn down just right. There’s always a touch of androgyny to her look. Maybe it’s the ironed white shirt or the fact that she wears black better than anyone. Her perfume smells like cedar and smoke. By day, she might be finishing up her doctorate, but by night, she tends bar at an always-packed neighborhood cocktail spot. She’s romantic in a Patti Smith kind of way, and she might have “Just Kids” tattooed somewhere. The Kooples girl doesn’t follow the crowd. She walks ahead of it, cigarette in hand, heels clicking toward the next afterparty.
A.P.C.
The A.P.C. girl always comes as a duo, with her boyfriend, that is. They are effortlessly cool, subtly coordinated, and impossible to miss even though they never try to stand out. They’re that quiet pair sitting at the back of the café in Ménilmontant where they live in her grandma’s old apartment rent-free, sharing a newspaper and a foamy flat white. Their look is sharp, minimal, and androgynous: raw denim, clean sneakers, boxy shirts, and utilitarian outerwear. Everything looks just right, and yes, it probably cost more than you think. At home, their record collection is alphabetized, the kitchen is full of Japanese ceramics, and the wardrobe is shared. She steals his jeans, and he borrows her oversized Oxford shirts. They’re probably in consulting, but let people believe they work somewhere “at the intersection of art and tech.” On weekends, they browse used bookstores, bike along the canal, and somehow know the only bakery that doesn’t have a line. Their style, much like A.P.C. itself, is about precision, restraint, and a refusal to chase trends. They’re not flashy, but they always leave an impression.
Eres
The Eres woman is elegance without spectacle, evident even in her choice of swimwear. She’s often quiet, the kind of person who knows herself so well that she doesn’t need loud prints or obvious labels. She’s a doctor or professor who lives in Aix-en-Provence, maybe with a cat, a tidy library of French poetry, and a bathroom filled with essential oils. She wears Eres for the same reason she drinks Sancerre instead of cocktails: it’s refined, timeless, and always worth the price tag. Her swimwear is minimalist but sculptural, her lingerie soft, sheer, and perfectly cut. She buys few pieces, but better ones, and she wears them until they become part of her. She travels to Hydra instead of Ibiza, reads Joan Didion in French, and can make a cheese plate look like a still life. For her, Eres isn’t just about looking good, it’s about knowing how to feel good in your own skin (though her weekly pilates classes certainly help).
Courrèges
The Courrèges girl is a futurist with a nostalgic heart: cool, clean, and just a little bit cosmic. Her world is all white lacquer, metallic accents, sharp silhouettes, and suitcases. She’s probably from abroad, but dreams of someday earning the title of parisienne. She stays in her friend’s apartment in the 16th, or maybe a brutalist gem just outside the périphérique. Her beauty is graphic: maybe a funky eyeliner, center-parted hair tucked behind the ears, and skin like glass. She’s an art collector and loves Salone Milano and Mexico City Art Week. The Courrèges girl is a vision of modernity with a wink to space-age glamour.
Thierry Colson
The Thierry Colson girl drifts through life like a sun-drenched daydream. She’s Mediterranean at heart, living in a dreamy little village on the French Riviera. Her wardrobe is filled with weightless cottons, hand-embroidered blouses, and kaftans that billow like poetry in motion. She loves history, but only the beautiful parts, ancient textiles, classical gardens, and faded frescoes. Her hair is always a little undone, her cheeks kissed by the sun, and she wears eau de cologne like a whispered secret. She might be a writer, consult for a heritage textile house, or host salon-style dinners in a courtyard strung with fairy lights. There’s a refined ease to her. The Colson girl isn’t here to disrupt the world; she’s here to remind it how beautiful slowness can be.
Sessùn
The Sessùn girl is grounded, warm, and quietly magnetic. She’s from Toulouse, and in her city she knows every market vendor by name, and they always save her the best strawberries of the season. She lives in a cozy, plant-filled apartment, all natural textures and mismatched ceramics. Her style is thoughtful and layered: think textured knits, corduroy trousers, workwear jackets, and boots that look just as good hiking a cliffside as they do on the métro. She mixes utility with poetry, cotton overalls worn with delicate gold jewelry, or a wool coat cinched over a vintage dress. She’s likely taking a break from work or looking for something new, and has a favorite indie café where the barista knows her order. The Sessùn girl is not trying to stand out; she’s just trying be herself. And in doing so, she glows in that effortless, sun-faded, softly cinematic way.
Musier Paris
The Musier Paris girl is from Champagne (think Camille from “Emily in Paris”), but with a flirty, digital-age twist. She’s the type who grew up in the castle in the countryside but now lives in a well-lit apartment in South Pigalle, with terrazzo counters, vintage rattan chairs, and a collection of books she actually reads, when she’s not posting candid selfies on film. Her style is all about quiet seduction: barely-there knits, sheer slips, low backs, high slits, and vintage-inspired shapes that hug just right. She worships the ’90s but filters it through a French lens, more Jane Birkin than Britney. She might work as a hotel concierge or marketing director, but she’s always on the move, iced oat latte in hand and headphones playing Angèle or Rosalía. The Musier girl is curated but never overdone, sexy without trying, and always a little elusive, as if she’s about to ghost you, but only because she’s headed to a weekend shoot in Biarritz.
Angelika Pokovba is a writer and longtime Francophile originally from NYC, now based in Mexico. She’s into food, wine, skincare, and all things French—especially summers in the South and pharmacy finds she stocks up on way too early.
