Paris Notebooks: Summer Solitude, Silk, and the Quiet Art of Moving Forward

There is a particular kind of magic when a city you believe you know suddenly reveals another version of itself.

For years, Paris belonged to my winters. Every January, I would arrive for the trade fairs, stepping into a city wrapped in mist, grey skies, and the quiet elegance of the colder months. This June was different. It was my first visit to LuxePack Paris, and experiencing Paris in summer felt like meeting an old friend under entirely new circumstances.

The light was softer.

The evenings longer.

The city seemed less contemplative and more alive.

Travelling alone as a founder has become one of my favourite forms of freedom. Every decision, every observation, every detour belongs entirely to me. There is a unique satisfaction in building something from the ground up — from the first formulation idea to the final packaging detail. Yet entrepreneurship, much like travel, has a habit of testing our ability to adapt.

Looking back, I like to think she was my travelling angel.
Suspended between light and movement, high above Zurich's main station, she seemed to watch over the endless flow of departures and arrivals. At the time, it was simply a beautiful moment. Later, after losing my internet connection, navigating Paris by intuition and discovering unexpected treasures along the way, it felt almost symbolic.
The journey was asking me to trust before it was asking me to understand.

​When Losing Connection Creates Perspective
My journey began with a small modern drama.

The moment the train crossed into France, my mobile connection disappeared. The new plan I had purchased specifically for seamless European roaming simply refused to work. No maps. No internet. No quick solutions.

For a brief moment, standing between stations and unfamiliar streets, I felt that familiar wave of uncertainty every solo traveller knows. How do I find my way? What if something goes wrong?

And then something unexpected happened.

I simply continued.

One metro line after another. A few wrong turns. A little intuition. A little trust.

Eventually I arrived in front of my Airbnb, only to discover that I needed to call the host to gain access. Without a connection, even the simplest task suddenly felt complicated. The apartment's Wi-Fi became my temporary lifeline, and only the following day, after unsuccessfully trying to solve the problem myself, did I ask Gemini for help. Following its surprisingly detailed instructions, I finally restored my settings and reconnected with the digital world.

Yet the experience left me with an interesting thought.

Perhaps we rely so heavily on being connected that we sometimes forget how capable we are without it.

Montmartre and the Beauty of Walking Slowly

That first evening, still disconnected from the digital world and guided entirely by intuition, I wandered through a part of Paris I had never truly experienced before.

Instead of my usual neighbourhoods, I found myself near the winding streets and endless stairways of Montmartre. As the intense summer heat slowly faded and the city softened into twilight, I climbed the hill with no destination in mind.

The higher I walked, the quieter everything became.

Paris has always taught me the same lesson: it reveals itself only to those willing to walk.

Not efficiently.

Not quickly.

But slowly.

Every hidden courtyard, every café terrace, every unexpected glimpse across the rooftops seems to reward curiosity rather than planning.

For me, Paris only truly exists on foot.

A Chance Encounter at Chez Léon

That evening, with no internet, no reservations and no carefully researched recommendations, I stumbled upon Chez Léon entirely by chance.

Looking back, it was the perfect beginning to the journey.

No algorithms.

No reviews.

Just curiosity leading the way.

After a long day of travelling, I sat down and ordered an octopus carpaccio that felt less like dinner and more like a small work of art. Delicate, perfectly balanced and quietly sophisticated, it was one of those rare dishes that stay with you long after the meal has ended.

I returned a second time during my short stay.

Not because I wanted something new.

But because some experiences deserve to be repeated.

Dining alone in Paris never feels lonely.

It feels attentive.

Without conversation or distraction, every detail becomes more vivid. The atmosphere. The flavours. The rhythm of the city unfolding around you.

A Sensory Love Affair with Silk

When I entered the halls of LuxePack Paris the following day, I expected to discover innovations in sustainable materials and future packaging concepts.

I did not expect to fall in love with silk.

Among all the materials, technologies and future visions, one discovery stopped me in my tracks.

Before I understood the science behind it, I was captivated by the feeling it created.

A luminous amber bottle stood surrounded by a soft, cloud-like veil of silk. It felt less like packaging innovation and more like a piece of contemporary art.

Some materials speak before they are explained.

The moment I touched the 100% premium silk patches by Sericyne, I understood why.

The texture was unlike anything I had encountered before—light, pure, almost ethereal.

What fascinated me even more was the story behind it. Rather than forcing nature into industrial processes, Sericyne developed a patented method that allows silkworms to create seamless silk veils directly into custom shapes. No weaving. No harsh chemical treatments. Simply nature expressing its own intelligence.

There was something deeply inspiring about this approach.

In a world obsessed with controlling every outcome, this innovation succeeds by collaborating with nature rather than dominating it.

Standing there, holding this impossibly soft silk in my hands, I felt the same conviction that guides my work with botanical skincare: true innovation does not always mean adding more. Sometimes it means removing complexity and trusting the wisdom already present in nature.

For me, this was undoubtedly the most beautiful discovery of the entire exhibition.

Sometimes, the ultimate innovation is simply allowing nature to do what it does best.

Where Green Science Meets Luxury

Beyond this emotional highlight, LuxePack offered fascinating insights into the future of sustainable packaging.

I was particularly drawn to innovations moving beyond conventional plastic and towards truly circular materials. Compostable packaging, bacterial-fermented polymers and advanced bio-based composites are no longer concepts for the future. They are becoming reality.

As someone whose work revolves around botanical formulations and essential oils, I arrived with practical questions.

Can these materials withstand the humidity of a bathroom?

Can they safely contain essential oils?

Are they genuinely durable?

The answers were reassuring.

The most advanced biomaterials do not simply dissolve when exposed to moisture. They require highly specific biological conditions, typically found in active composting environments, to begin breaking down. In everyday use, they remain stable, hygienic and remarkably resilient.

In other words, sustainability no longer requires compromise.

For the first time, it feels as though green science is finally catching up with luxury.

I was especially inspired by premium label-free concepts where logos and product information are embossed directly into the material itself. Elegant. Minimal. Timeless.

The kind of design that whispers rather than shouts.

The Beauty of Moving Slowly

Walking back through Paris after the exhibition, I felt inspired but also surprisingly calm.

The future is clearly moving toward plastic-free solutions, intelligent biomaterials and refined minimalism. I can already imagine beautiful possibilities for YveSkin.

Yet another thought stayed with me.

Sustainability is not only about materials.

It is also about pace.

I currently have beautiful aluminium bottles and hand-engraved jars waiting to be filled and loved by clients. They deserve their place in the journey before the next chapter begins.

Innovation does not always require immediate action.

Sometimes it requires observation.

Testing.

Patience.

The willingness to let ideas mature before turning them into decisions.

As I returned to Zurich, I carried home more than new packaging concepts.

I carried a quiet sense of direction.

The future of beauty may well be plastic-free, scientifically advanced and elegantly minimal.
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But like every meaningful journey, it unfolds one thoughtful step at a time.

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