My friend Layla is holding a glass of champagne and has a huge smile on her face. A French cancan performance has just begun, with much leg-kicking from under tricolour ruffled skirts. It’s a noisy dance, made even louder by trilling screeches, and makes the Moulin Rouge in Pigalle buzz with energy.
The dance has feminist origins – from the 1830s it was used as a protest by Montmartre laundresses against the menial tasks they were expected to perform without pay. It feels fitting for Layla’s first baby-free trip abroad, particularly since she is also a keen dancer. She danced right up until giving birth, four months ago.
I’m in my early 30s, and although I’m currently child-free, my friends are popping out babies like it’s going out of fashion: seven have been born already in 2026.
As I've watched them become parents for the first time, I've noticed a pattern. The new fathers have been (largely) supportive and invested, but the mums still do more, particularly in the early stages. Plenty of new fathers I know have had a night off – or even several – to see friends or family when their baby is very young, but I know mothers that didn’t spend a night apart from their child until they were almost two years old. Their lives and bodies have had to adapt so much more than their partners.
I’ve known Layla for 10 years, and she has never relished the idea of pregnancy and early motherhood. I think if she could have, she would of birthed a three-year-old. Plus, she’s got more hobbies than anyone I know, and a social life that would exhaust most people, so a maternity leave spent in the countryside has been out of her comfort zone.
That’s why, with her husband’s help, I planned a surprise trip to Paris: the city of love, light and, now, post-baby trips. Dad would stay at home with her son, while mum briefly stepped back into her pre-baby life.
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When I revealed the plans to Layla and asked what she wanted to do in Paris, her answer was just three words long: “Wine, cheese, paté”. She had visited while pregnant, and felt she’d missed out on the more elevated side of the city’s culinary scene.
Taking her at her word, I chose a hotel in the 17th arrondissement, La Fondation, where I could count six wine bars within a 200 metre radius. Crucially, it is also only a 20-minute walk from the Moulin Rouge, which was to be a highlight of our trip, and would make her feel worlds away from mum life. Especially as it doesn’t allow under-sixes.
Layla arrives in Paris by Eurostar, and I catch the train up from my home in Lyon, for 48 hours of baby-free quality time. Our first wine bar was ironically not French at all, but Argentinian. At La Casa de los Franceses, Layla and I catch up, and the conversation inevitably turns to new motherhood.
“I love seeing my husband step into a father role so easily,” she says when I ask her about the highs of parenting so far. It feels apt; he’s probably feeding or changing a nappy as we drink champagne in the sunshine. “The worst part is that everything takes so long. I never have free time any more.”
There’s a beautiful word in French – flâner – which means to stroll aimlessly, and it’s often associated with Paris. French author Anaïs Nin used long, Parisian walks to inspire her work, and Layla and I use ours for incessant chatter, and the joy of walking without pushing a pram.
We walk for hours, discovering places including a floating pop-up gallery, Fluctuart, on a péniche (barge) in the 7th arrondissement. We pass many of the city’s most famous sights on foot: Notre-Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower – but we don’t visit any of them, they’re merely an aesthetic backdrop to our stroll. Nothing has changed, except for Layla’s newfound interest in baby clothing boutiques. I drag her into some upmarket pet stores in return – my babies have fur.
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We make it our mission to try as many of the wine bars close to the hotel as possible. Pint-sized Cave en Terrasse on Rue de la Terrasse is so popular that we have to walk past at three different times of day to get a table. Un Air de Famille on Rue des Dames is full of oddities including vintage board games and 70-year-old Michelin guides, and at nearby Le 17.45 we order so much cheese and paté that the rinds hang over the sides of the cheese board.
Back at the hotel, we flit between the 25-metre underground swimming pool, tiled in dark mosaics like a riad hammam, and the sauna – something that had been banned during pregnancy.
Layla picks up a postcard on one of our walks, and writes it to her son. This is the start of a new tradition: each time she goes away without him, she’ll send him one, recounting her adventures. She works in travel and has already been to 54 countries, so that little boy is in for a lot of postcards.
After two days, it’s back to reality — although Layla hasn’t been “mum” on this trip, someone is waiting at home for her. We walked and talked, and ate and drank without looking at the time, and, best of all for a sleep-deprived new mum – slept in until 9am, while the baby’s dad has had no trouble looking after him.
Layla tells me about how her attention is constantly divided with a four-month-old; but on this trip, she’s been able to be fully present, and fully selfish. It’s just like the trips we used to go on, only now we value a little more sleep over partying.
Layla was a guest of La Fondation
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Where to stay
La Fondation has doubles from £360, and wonderful views over the Sacré-Cœur from the roof terrace. Breakfast (£29 per person), which is served on the roof, is a lavish multi-course affair that will keep you full until dinner.
How to get there
Eurostar has regular trains from London St Pancras to Paris Gare du Nord each day, taking two hours and 16 minutes.