I Asked French Fashion People Which British Brands They Actually Buy (Their Answers Surprised Me)

So this is probably going to sound like the most pretentious thing ever, but I spent three months asking every French fashion person I could get hold of which British brands they actually respect. I know, I know – why do we care what the French think? But honestly, as someone who’s constantly trying to figure out which pieces are worth investing in on my sad graphic designer salary, I figured if something can impress the people who invented chic, it’s probably worth knowing about.

The whole thing started when I was scrolling through Instagram (procrastinating on a logo project, naturally) and saw this French influencer wearing what looked like a really expensive minimalist coat. Turned out it was Margaret Howell, which I’d literally never heard of despite being British. That got me thinking – what other UK brands am I completely sleeping on because I’m too busy browsing Zara clearance?

I started reaching out to French fashion editors, stylists, and buyers through Instagram DMs, LinkedIn, whatever worked. Most ignored me (fair), but enough responded that I started getting this really interesting picture of which British brands have actually made it in France versus which ones we think are internationally successful but really aren’t.

First thing that became super obvious: the French hate logo-heavy stuff. Like, viscerally hate it. This one buyer from Galeries Lafayette told me she can spot British tourists from a block away because they’re covered in obvious branding. “French women buy brands for quality, not to advertise,” she said, which honestly made me think about my Uniqlo tote situation.

Burberry came up constantly, but not the way you’d expect. Nobody mentioned the check pattern – apparently that screams tourist to them. Instead, they’re obsessed with the trench coats and the more subtle runway pieces. “A good trench is like a good pair of jeans,” this stylist from Paris told me. “You buy it once and wear it for twenty years.” Which, considering my current coat is from Target and losing its waterproofing, maybe I should listen.

The sustainability angle was huge too. Stella McCartney kept coming up, partly because she used to design for Chloé so French women already knew her work, but mostly because her no-leather thing doesn’t look crunchy granola. “She proves you can be ethical without looking like you shop at health food stores,” one editor said, which honestly is my entire sustainable fashion struggle right there.

What completely shocked me was how much they love Margaret Howell. I’d genuinely never heard of her before starting this research, which makes me feel like a terrible fashion person. But apparently she’s huge in France because her whole thing is perfect basics in amazing fabrics. Think simple button-downs and trousers, but the kind of cotton that feels expensive when you touch it. “She understands that luxury is in the fabric, not the design,” someone told me, which is such a French thing to say but also kind of brilliant.

The French obsession with Dr. Martens was another surprise. You’d think they’d be too clunky for Parisian style, but apparently French women love wearing them with feminine dresses and skirts. It’s like their version of mixing high and low, except instead of mixing expensive and cheap, they’re mixing pretty and tough. I actually tried this after my research – wore my old Docs with a thrift store slip dress – and got more compliments than usual, so maybe they’re onto something.

Vivienne Westwood came up a lot too, which makes sense when you think about it. The French love fashion as art, and her stuff is basically wearable sculpture. Plus she has that whole punk-meets-historical thing going on that probably appeals to people who think fashion should have intellectual depth. I can’t afford actual Westwood (obviously), but I found some punk-inspired pieces at secondhand stores that capture a tiny bit of that energy.

Alexander McQueen was another one they mentioned, specifically the Sarah Burton era. Apparently Lee McQueen was almost too intense for everyday French style, but Burton’s version hits the right balance between dramatic and wearable. “It’s fashion, not costume,” one buyer explained, which I think was meant as high praise.

The beauty side was interesting too. Charlotte Tilbury has apparently convinced French women to move beyond their beloved pharmacy products, which seems impossible given how obsessed they are with simple routines. But her Pillow Talk lipstick is everywhere in Paris because it’s subtle enough to feel effortless but special enough to feel indulgent. I actually bought it after hearing about it so much (goodbye, coffee budget for the week) and I get why they love it – it’s like your lips but better, which is very French.

COS came up constantly, even though it’s technically Swedish. The London design team makes it feel British, I guess. French women love it because the proportions are good and it doesn’t scream fast fashion, even though it’s affordable. “It’s what Zara wishes it could be,” one person told me, which honestly might be the most accurate description of COS ever.

What was really telling was which British brands didn’t get mentioned. All our biggest high street names that dominate UK shopping centers barely registered with the French people I talked to. Apparently they find them too trendy, too logo-heavy, or too obviously fast fashion. “British high street tries too hard,” one editor said. “We prefer brands that are confident in what they are.”

The whole research process made me rethink my own shopping strategy. I’d been focused on finding affordable versions of whatever was trending on Instagram, but the French approach is more about investing in fewer, better pieces that work with everything. Obviously that’s easier said than done when you’re broke, but even choosing better basics when you can afford them makes sense.

I started looking for Margaret Howell pieces on TheRealReal and other resale sites (still can’t afford retail, let’s be real). Found a cotton shirt for about what I’d spend on three Zara shirts, and the difference in quality is honestly shocking. The cotton is thick and substantial, the stitching is perfect, and it looks more expensive than everything else in my wardrobe combined.

The trench coat revelation has me saving up for a secondhand Burberry, which feels insane given my usual shopping habits. But if I’m going to invest in one expensive piece, something I’ll wear for decades makes more sense than whatever trendy thing will look dated next season. French women are apparently still wearing trenches they bought in the eighties, which puts my fast fashion addiction into perspective.

I also started paying attention to which British brands were available in fancy French stores when I looked at their websites. Matches Fashion ships to France and stocks a lot of these brands I’d never considered before. Net-a-Porter too. If these ultra-picky retailers think French customers will buy something, it’s probably worth investigating.

The sustainability angle really stuck with me too. The French people I talked to weren’t necessarily buying ethical brands to save the world – they were buying them because slow fashion tends to mean better quality and more thoughtful design. It’s like their pickiness about fashion accidentally aligns with being more sustainable.

Church’s shoes came up several times, always in this reverential way. “British leather goods are the best in the world,” multiple people told me. Obviously I can’t afford Church’s (a single shoe probably costs more than my monthly grocery budget), but it made me think about investing in better footwear when possible. Good shoes apparently last decades, while cheap ones need replacing constantly.

The whole project made me realize how much British fashion I was ignoring just because it wasn’t trending on social media or being promoted by influencers. These French fashion insiders weren’t following the same accounts I was – they were focused on craftsmanship, heritage, and quality over whatever was getting the most likes.

Now I find myself looking at fashion completely differently. Instead of asking “Is this trendy?” or “Will this look good on Instagram?” I’m asking “Will this still look good in five years?” and “Is this well-made enough to justify the price?” It’s like accidentally developing French fashion sensibilities through sheer practicality.

The research also made me appreciate British fashion more. We have this incredible heritage of craftsmanship and innovation that I’d been taking for granted. While I was busy copying whatever American influencers were wearing, there were these amazing UK brands making beautiful, lasting things right under my nose.

Obviously I still can’t afford most of the brands that impressed these French fashion people. But understanding what makes something worth investing in has changed how I shop, even at my usual budget retailers. I look for better fabrics, cleaner lines, and pieces that feel substantial rather than flimsy. It’s like having a framework for making smarter choices.

The whole experience reminded me that fashion doesn’t have to be about following trends or buying constantly. The French approach – fewer, better pieces that work together – actually makes more sense for someone on a tight budget. Quality basics that last for years are cheaper per wear than constantly replacing cheap trend pieces.

Plus, there’s something satisfying about knowing that the few investment pieces you own would get approving nods from some of the world’s pickiest fashion people. Even if I’m still wearing mostly secondhand and sale items, at least now I know what to save up for when I can actually afford to invest in something special.