The Alchemy of Paris: Letting the City Break You Open

Have you been to Paris lately __________?

There’s something about walking in Paris that stirs my soul. It’s not always beautiful or romantic in the way movies make it out to be. It’s much realer than that. Wait. Is ‘realer’ a word?

Paris doesn’t hand itself over easily. It makes you work. It makes you face yourself.

This is one of the reasons I believe Paris is inherently alchemical.

Alchemy isn’t just about transformation for the sake of change. It’s about being taken apart so that something truer can emerge. Paris offers exactly that—if you’re willing to endure the breakdown.

Light and Contrast

One of the things I love most about this city is the light. Not just the literal sunlight, although that’s part of it. 

Paris is called the City of Light, and it earns the name not because the sun is always shining. Hahaha! It isn’t. Paris is gray. But here’s the thing… 

Paris is called the City of Light because of the way light arrives through the darkness.

There are days here when the sky is heavy, gray, and wet. When the cold is dense and the buildings feel like they’re pressing in on you. And then, unexpectedly, the clouds break. A shaft of sun pours down through the Haussmann buildings. The stones glow. The faces on the street soften. People spill out onto the sidewalks, reclaiming the joy of the day.

It’s not the light that transforms you. 

It’s the contrast—the fact that you were sitting in gray just moments before. That movement from heaviness to radiance is one of the purest experiences of alchemy I’ve felt here.

Ego Death in Real Time

But the deeper alchemy doesn’t happen in the weather. Hehehe! It happens inside the soul.

Paris is a mirror. It will show you where you don’t belong. It will highlight your otherness. It will reflect your aspirations back at you—sometimes tenderly, sometimes with cold indifference.

If you come here expecting to experience romance without knowing her history, to live out a fantasy without understanding her cultural context, or to ease into her glory without matching her excellence on some level, you may find yourself miserable and disillusioned. Paris doesn’t perform for you. She doesn’t ask for your approval.

She ain’t trying to get your validation. She doesn’t need it.

And that’s exactly what makes this city alchemical.

For me, coming to Paris was never about escape. It was about entering into something I respected deeply. I came with a love for the language, the culture, and the history. I came to learn and to grow. I came to be changed.

But in all honesty, that change has not always been graceful.

There were so many moments of beauty– walking Apollo along the scene, the smell of baking croissants at dawn, the sound of French spoken through pouty French lips, the art nouveau typestyle on an awning, or a flowerbox full of red geraniums.

And there were moments of ugliness, too. The harshness of the streets, the indifference of strangers, the shock of how exposed and disoriented I felt in my own body, my own clothes, my own language.

Paris doesn’t flatter you. It breaks down what isn’t authentic. It brings your projections to the surface, and if you’re willing, it helps you burn them down.

Rebirth through Exposure

In alchemy, the lead must be broken down before it can be transmuted. It’s the same here. Living in Paris has meant letting go of who I thought I was. My style, my voice, my sense of beauty, my relationship with my body—all of these have been challenged.

There was a time when fashion was an extension of my creativity. Then depression crept in, and my clothes became a symbol of my shame. Even after the depression passed, I didn’t reconnect with my creativity. I reached for expensive labels, not out of joy, but out of a desire to prove I was worth something.

Paris forced me to confront that. It asked: Who are you dressing for? What are you trying to say—and to whom?

Now, I’m cultivating a different relationship with my femininity and style. It’s less about performance, more about alignment. I love beauty. I love fashion. But I don’t need to be validated by either one. That’s the gold I’m finding in the rubble.

This City Will Change You—If You Let It

Paris is not just architecture and art and food. 

Paris is a crucible for burning up your inhibitions. It will not carry you across the threshold of transformation. But it will open the door—and hold it open long enough for you to walk through (or run through if your panties are on fire!).

You may be asked to let go of the version of yourself who felt in control.

You may have to live in the gap between who you were and who you’re becoming.

You may feel the winter’s cold, smell the piss in the street, and retreat from the silence of strangers—and yet you may still find yourself saying: Yes, please, Paris. This is part of it too.

That’s because alchemy isn’t just turning lead into gold. It’s seeing value in what was once discarded. It’s letting the ugliness serve the beauty. It’s realizing that rebirth only comes through some kind of death.

And that’s what Paris offers. A death of what is unrefined and timid, and a rebirth into whatever exists beyond the illusions. 

When you come here, let my girl break you open. That’s how her light gets in.