My Week In France - By Lawerence E Linton III (Founder of LOWLIFE)
On March 20th, I took a trip to France and spent seven days exploring the country. I had originally booked this trip back in September 2025—honestly, out of a strong impulse to travel and an almost superhuman ability to justify spending a fuck ton of money. What really sold me was how cheap the flight to France was. I live in Hawai’i, Oahu specifically. To my surprise, a round-trip ticket was less than $900—a lot of money, but way less than I would’ve expected for that distance. Of course, I had to factor in hotels, food (definitely the majority of my expenses, knowing my fat ass), souvenirs, transportation, and so on. But I had some savings, my finances were stable, so I said fuck it and bought the ticket. It wasn’t until February that it really hit me: this trip could make great content for LOWLIFE and give me a firsthand look at the fashion scene, especially in Paris.
Me in front of the Eiffel Tower (took forever to find BTW)
The months between September and March flew by so fast it almost felt unreal. One minute I’m entering my credit card on United’s website, the next I’m on a plane watching Oahu disappear under a sheet of clouds, contemplating my life choices with nervous excitement. One five-hour flight, a fifteen-hour layover in San Francisco, and an eleven-hour flight later, I was landing at Charles De Gaulle Airport. My heart was pounding as the plane descended and flight attendants did their final cabin checks. I spoke very little French, was traveling solo, and aside from a loose itinerary and a few hostels I’d booked, had little structure. Once I left the airport and inhaled my first breath of French air, excitement replaced fear.
My mental dialogue went from:
“Holy fuck! I am alone in a foreign country”
in a what-the-fuck-did-I-get-myself-into kind of way, to:
“Holy fuck! I am alone in a foreign country”
in a let’s-do-this-shit kind of way.
I didn’t have the trip planned down to the minute, but I didn’t need to. Two scheduled activities in Paris, a route to follow, a couple places to stay, and a rough timeline of where I wanted to be—trying to plan more would have meant less room to explore spontaneously, which was too high a price to pay.
The Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel in front of the Louvre
While I was there, I met so many people! I’m naturally shy—not an introvert, more like a socially anxious extrovert. There’s no better motivation for pushing through social anxiety than being alone and connection-starved in a foreign country, fascinated by the culture, language, and people. Using Google Translate and the little French I knew, I could communicate with almost everyone. Most people knew enough English to indulge me in conversation. A few locals explained that English is taught in most European schools, and the global reach of American movies and music practically makes English universal in developed countries.
I also learned, the hard way, that just because someone doesn’t have a noticeable foreign accent and speaks English better than you ever could…doesn’t mean they’re American. That was the biggest mindfuck of the trip—well, that and realizing that locals actually wear berets. I always assumed that was just a stereotype, like Americans and cowboy hats, but I saw it a lot, especially in Paris.
The biggest lesson France taught me was how much of a blessing it is to be able to communicate. I’ve said it before, but I barely speak French. I know bonjour, merci, oui, s’il vous plaît, baguette, Eiffel Tower, Timothée Chalamet, peepee wee wee, and quiero Taco Bell—and that’s it. I was alone, which wasn’t a problem, but just as I long for connection in the U.S., I longed for it even more in France. I did a lot of people-watching, sitting in cafés and restaurants to rest and take in everything around me.
A statue at the Utah Beach Landing Museum in Normandy, France
I wanted to remember the smell of the air, the bittersweet symphony of sounds that made up the heartbeat of the bustling cities. I wanted to remember the warm sunlight on my skin as I roamed aimlessly, discovering what was meant for me to see, and the amazing architecture, where centuries-old buildings coexisted with modern infrastructure, making some areas feel lost in time. I wanted to remember the taste of the food and the awkward attempts to use broken French (and once Spanish accidentally) to communicate. I told myself I would return one day, but I savored every present moment, knowing I’d never experience it in exactly the same way again.
I’d overhear conversations in French and mentally try to piece together what they were saying—not to be nosy, but out of curiosity: curiosity about their lives, their experiences in French culture, and the shared human experience of simply existing in this moment. People became stories to me, and I kept thinking:
“Imagine the connections I could make here if I spoke even decent French. Imagine the stories people would share, the reactions to my own story, the emotional intimacy when someone truly sees you.” Not with their eyes, but with their heart. When someone allows you to let your guard down, and you do the same in return—it’s recognition of your humanity, a mutual catharsis.
A building that I thought looked cool in Marseille, France. No idea what it is.
We see so many people in everyday life, yet we only really connect with a few. Most stick to their familiar social circles. I often feel invisible because of how little interaction I get from strangers. I know I could initiate more, and I try—sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I also know that there are plenty of weirdos out there, myself being a card-carrying member of the weirdo community. Being in France, unable to communicate freely, made me realize just how much I crave being seen and seeing others, and how cold it feels when that doesn’t happen. I don’t think I’m alone in feeling this. I also don’t think most people realize it until they’re in a situation where communication is difficult. Is human connection harder to find than affordable housing or a good job in 2026? Maybe. Or maybe I’m just unusually bad at finding it.
Since returning home, I’ve made studying French a habit. This isn’t just post-trip excitement where I’ll download Duolingo and binge French reels for a couple of weeks before moving on. I plan to go back to France and expand LOWLIFE into the French market. I don’t know exactly when or how, but when the time is right, it will happen. And when it does, I want to converse decently in French and make the connections I wish I had made the first time. I want to go back and allow people to see me—not just as a tourist, but as a human who simply wants to connect.
Pas pour les gens ordinaires.
Le hoodie « La Résistance » est une pièce en édition limitée, forgée dans l'expérience, la rébellion et une perspective brute. Noir et unisexe, il affiche fièrement sa défiance sur le devant avec l'inscription « La Résistance » aux couleurs du drapeau français — un clin d'œil au combat, à l'endurance et à la survie. Une manche arbore un petit drapeau français, l'autre le logo LOWLIFE : des marques d'allégeance subtiles. Au dos, le nom et le logo LOWLIFE trônent sous le slogan « born from pain, created in Hawai’i » — un rappel que chaque point, chaque fil, porte en lui une histoire et une lutte. Inspiré par mon séjour en France, ce hoodie ne se contente pas d'être porté : il se vit.
Portez-le avec conviction.
(English Version)
Not for the ordinary.
The “La Résistance” hoodie is a limited edition piece forged from experience, rebellion, and raw perspective. Black and unisex, its front screams defiance with “La Résistance” in the colors of the French flag—a nod to fight, endurance, and survival. One sleeve bears a small French flag, the other the LOWLIFE logo, subtle marks of allegiance. On the back, the LOWLIFE name and logo sit beneath the tagline “born from pain, created in Hawai’i”, a reminder that every stitch, every thread, carries story and struggle while paying tribute to the place LOWLIFE originated in. Inspired by the founder's time in France, this hoodie isn’t just worn—it’s lived.
Wear it like you mean it.
• 80% cotton, 20% recycled polyester fleece
• Relaxed unisex fit
Age restrictions: For adults
EU Warranty: 2 years
Other compliance information: Meets the formaldehyde, lead, cadmium, bisphenols, phthalates level requirements.
In compliance with the General Product Safety Regulation (GPSR), Oak inc. and SINDEN VENTURES LIMITED ensure that all consumer products offered are safe and meet EU standards. For any product safety related inquiries or concerns, please contact our EU representative at gpsr@sindenventures.com. You can also write to us at 123 Main Street, Anytown, Country or Markou Evgenikou 11, Mesa Geitonia, 4002, Limassol, Cyprus.
One of many graphics inspired by French history (stay tuned to see the rest)
