The idea came about because of a gap in my travel schedule. I had close to three weeks between visits to New York and began thinking about how I wanted to spend that time. Rather than head home, I decided to go to Paris. Alone.
I’d been thinking about traveling solo for years, but as I got older, it seemed to be becoming more of a distant dream than something I was actually going to do. I didn’t want to look back with regrets, or reach a point where fear convinced me I couldn’t do it. Once I finally said out loud that I was going to Paris on my own, I knew there was no turning back. I would have been disappointed in myself if I’d changed my mind. Part of taking this trip was simply proving to myself that I could.
Throughout my time in Paris, I received quite a few messages asking how I was enjoying the experience. Was I lonely? Did I mind eating by myself? What did I do all day? Did I feel safe? And why would I want to go solo in the first place? Along with the questions came stories from women who often travel on their own, others who were thinking about it, and plenty of encouragement from those who have made it a regular part of their lives. Many spoke about how liberating the experience had been and the confidence it gave them.
One message particularly resonated with me. A reader wrote that she’d traveled fearlessly on her own when she was younger but hadn’t done so in years. She wondered how it would feel now, as an older woman, not having someone alongside her to discuss the day or make decisions with. I understood exactly what she meant. I’d traveled for work in my twenties and never thought twice about it. But somewhere along the way, the idea of setting off for an extended trip by myself had started to feel very different.
Paris felt like the right place to try it. I knew I would enjoy the museums, shopping, galleries, antiquing, and simply wandering the streets. It was a trip built around things I am perfectly happy doing by myself, often even preferring it that way. I think traveling solo is very destination-dependent.
The Luxury of Time
When I travel with family or friends, I’m usually the planner. I like having things organized, making reservations, thinking ahead, and making sure everyone is having a good time. The days tend to fill up quickly, and I’m always conscious of what everyone else might want to do.
In Paris, I had none of that responsibility. No one waiting for me, no one counting on me, no schedule to consider beyond my own. There was plenty of time to settle into a routine, or, as it turned out, no routine at all. And that was the best part. Having complete control of my time was a luxury I hadn’t fully appreciated until I experienced it.
Some of my favorite mornings were spent having breakfast in bed. A pot of coffee or a latte, a basket of warm bread and croissants, and absolutely no reason to hurry. I could read, have another coffee, and take my time deciding what I felt like doing. Some mornings I left the hotel early, others I lingered until 11. There was no particular reason to be anywhere at any particular time.
Once I was out, though, I rarely wanted to stop. Paris energized me. I could spend hours walking, looking, discovering, and still find myself wanting to do one more thing. Sometimes I’d return to the hotel to change clothes because the weather had warmed up, then turn right around and head out again. My downtime was generally in the mornings. During the day, I wanted to be out experiencing the city.
I loved the spontaneity of it all. One morning in Saint-Germain, I was on my way to a showing of a new knitwear collection when I passed a small jewelry gallery with beautiful vintage pieces in the window. A green intaglio ring caught my eye. It was a style I’d been looking for over the years, and this one looked pretty perfect. Rather than make a mental note to return, I walked straight in and asked to try it on. It was a small size and fit my pinkie perfectly. The color of the stone, the engraving, the wonderfully detailed setting. I knew immediately it was the one. I bought it on the spot, knowing I’d regret it if I came back later and it was gone.
Other days I’d spend wandering into a French pharmacy, antique shops, galleries, or food markets. Anything that caught my eye or interested me was reason enough to go in and have a look. Nobody was standing outside waiting for me to finish. Nobody was getting restless. I could stay as long as I liked.
Another example was the day I visited an antique market outside Paris. I’d deliberately kept the day flexible, waiting until I felt like going rather than committing to a particular schedule. Once there, I wandered the aisles at my own pace, sometimes going back through them two or three times. When I’d finally had enough, I could have returned to my hotel and called it a day. Instead, I got a second burst of energy and had a car take me back to the Marais to revisit a couple of shops. Had I been with someone else, I imagine they might have been ready to go back to the hotel. But I wasn’t. I wanted to keep going, and I could.
Spending a little longer in a shop, taking a different street home, or stopping for coffee when I felt like it. Small things, but they added up.
Finding My Own Rhythm
I’ve never been uncomfortable dining solo, so the prospect of doing so throughout my trip gave me no hesitation. I was often given what felt like an ideal table, with a view of the restaurant and everything going on around me. I could enjoy my meal and take in the atmosphere.
On one occasion, I returned to a restaurant and the maître d’ welcomed me back to “my table.” He even remembered which wine I’d ordered previously and what kind of water I preferred. Thoughtful little details that made me feel especially welcome.
My eating schedule became unconventional. Breakfast at 11, lunch at 4, perhaps no dinner at all. I could eat when I was hungry rather than because it was time for a meal. The evening after the ballet, I wanted a quick bite, so I stopped in the lounge at my hotel and ordered a hot apple tart before bed. I sat there enjoying my dessert, watching the people around me, perfectly content. That was dinner.
Before leaving for Paris, I’d made a few evening plans, knowing I’d enjoy having something to look forward to beyond dinner. I wanted to give some of my nights a little structure while keeping my days free to explore. An evening concert at Sainte-Chapelle, the ballet at Palais Garnier, and visits to museums that stayed open late. These were all things I genuinely wanted to experience, but I didn’t want them taking time away from everything I enjoyed doing during the day.
I felt safe throughout my time in Paris. I was mindful of where I was and the time of day, but I never felt particularly vulnerable. Staying in hotels was a big part of that. The concierges and front desk staff knew I was coming and going, and there was always someone to greet me when I returned.
After the opera, I could easily have taken a car back to my hotel in Saint-Germain, but I wanted to experience Paris at night from the street and enjoyed the 40-minute walk instead. I passed the Louvre and its illuminated pyramid, crossed the river, and continued through Saint-Germain. There were so many people out enjoying the evening that I never felt uncomfortable.
I’ve wondered whether I’d rent an apartment on a future extended visit, but the experience reminded me how much I value staying in a hotel, particularly when traveling solo. The convenience, the familiarity, the people who recognize you, and the ability to ask for help or advice whenever you need it. Staying in a hotel was a luxury.
I also considered the logistics of traveling that might cause unnecessary stress and arranged a few things in advance to make the experience easier. For my arrival in France, I booked the Air France concierge service, which met me at the gate, whisked me through passport control, collected my luggage, and arranged my transfer to the hotel. Navigating an airport with several bags after a long flight wasn’t something I was looking forward to.
And frankly, I didn’t feel I had anything to prove by doing it all myself. At this stage of my life, if there’s a way to make something easier, more comfortable, or less stressful, I’m happy to take advantage of it. Traveling independently was about enjoying my freedom, not making every part of the experience more difficult than it needed to be.
My two sons came to Paris for an extended weekend, and it was an absolute highlight. We hit the ground running every day, ate considerably more than I would have on my own, and spent a wonderful evening on a private sunset cruise along the Seine.
That was an experience I wouldn’t have wanted to do alone. Floating along the river at sunset, watching Paris light up, was something I wanted to share. I might have felt lonely doing that by myself. Having my boys there made it especially memorable.
What I Learned About Myself
Did I feel lonely during the rest of the trip? No. I chatted with people in restaurants and shops, with the concierges at my hotels, and with people I happened to meet along the way. I enjoyed those conversations, but I was equally happy returning to my own company afterward.
I discovered how much I enjoyed simply wandering without a destination. Paris is particularly good for this. Some afternoons I didn’t return to the hotel until after six or seven, not because I had so much to do, but because I had no reason to stop.
Looking back, solo travel confirmed a few things about myself that I think I’ve always known. I enjoy my own company. I love spontaneity. And I’m endlessly curious. When I travel, I’m constantly noticing things, taking in my surroundings, following whatever catches my interest. The streets, the architecture, the shops, the conversations, the food, the smallest details. I love capturing these moments in photographs, too, sometimes stopping simply because the light or a particular scene caught my eye. I love that feeling of being completely engaged with what’s around me.
What’s staying with me isn’t necessarily everything I saw or bought, although there was plenty of both. It’s the feeling of having those days entirely to myself. The freedom to change my mind, follow my curiosity, or do absolutely nothing without feeling I should be doing something else.
I went to Paris wanting to prove to myself that I could travel solo. I came home reminded of how much I enjoy my own company, and just how much of a luxury it is to have days with no set plans, open to whatever might come along.
For a look at what I wore in Paris, I’ve shared more on Instagram, and you can find the pieces I packed and wore, along with similar finds, on my PARIS shop page.
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