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Étranger Things: Roses, Reservations, and the Great Card Avalanche — How Americans vs. the French Do Saint-Valentin

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The moment I realized Valentine’s Day is not the same holiday in two countries

My first February living in France, I walked past a florist window in Aix and had a full, cinematic American thought:
“Oh wow. France is about to become one giant romantic movie montage and I, the foreign extra, will be trampled by roses.”

Then… nothing exploded.

Yes, there were flowers. Yes, there were chocolates. Yes, there were couples doing that ultra-French thing where they look like they’re barely doing anything—yet somehow it’s exactly the vibe you’d pay $72 for in Los Angeles.

But the feeling was different: less “everybody must participate,” more “two people quietly decide this matters (or doesn’t), and the rest of society politely minds its business.”

My little revelation: America treats Valentine’s Day like a national group project. France treats it like an appointment—often romantic, sometimes optional, and ideally not discussed in a team meeting. 

1) Who is Valentine’s Day for?

🇺🇸 America: Love, friendship, kids, coworkers, your dentist’s office… everyone gets glitter

In the U.S., Valentine’s Day has expanded well beyond romance. We do romantic partners, yes, but also friends, family, “Galentine’s,” classroom exchanges, and sometimes even pity-candy for coworkers who look like they’re going through it. It’s a broad “appreciation holiday,” and a big part of it is cards—millions of them—plus candy, flowers, and themed everything. (Encyclopedia Britannica)

Also: American kids handing out little valentines in class is basically a cultural rite (and a test of whether you remembered to buy enough for the entire class—because in the U.S., you do not give to only your besties unless you want to create a tiny soap opera). Classroom exchanges have deep roots in American tradition. (Encyclopedia Britannica)

🇫🇷 France: Mostly “les amoureux” (the couples), with a side of wink-wink romance culture

In France, Saint-Valentin reads as more specifically for couples—“la fête des amoureux”—and a lot of the energy is oriented around the two of you: a dinner, a thoughtful gesture, a small luxury, a love note, a moment. (offbeatfrance.com)

And yes, France leans into romance in a distinctly French way—sometimes sincerely, sometimes with irony, sometimes both at once (which is the most French thing of all).

Practical takeaway:

  • In the U.S., you can Valentine literally anyone without it being weird.

  • In France, “Bonne Saint-Valentin” often feels more couple-coded, so you use it more carefully—unless you’re clearly joking.

2) The vibe: loud love vs. low-volume elegance

🇺🇸 America: Big, bright, public

American Valentine’s Day is a billboard: hearts, Cupid, pink everything, heart-shaped pizzas, themed menus, and yes, occasionally… candlelight dinners at fast-food chains (America stays undefeated in the category of “romance with a side of chaos”). (AP News)

The holiday is also famously commercial—something even the historical overviews point to: candy, flowers, jewelry, and mass-produced cards helped cement modern traditions. (Encyclopedia Britannica)

🇫🇷 France: Intimate, subtle, and slightly allergic to cringe

France does romance with a different posture. It’s not that French people don’t do sweet. They do sweet with restraint.

A French Valentine’s Day can look like:

  • a reservation (often made in advance),

  • a beautiful meal,

  • excellent chocolate,

  • a bouquet,

  • and fewer public declarations that involve 14 heart emojis.

It’s less “LOOK AT MY LOVE,” more “we are having a nice moment, merci.” (If you see a French couple making a scene, it’s probably not romance—it’s a discussion about the correct way to load the dishwasher.)

3) The great cultural split: Cards vs. real-life gestures

🇺🇸 America is a card country

Cards are a main character in the U.S. Valentine’s Day story, with a long history of exchanging valentines, commercial printing, and household traditions built around greeting cards. (Encyclopedia Britannica)

A card is proof. A card is effort. A card is “I have demonstrated feelings using paper and punctuation.”

🇫🇷 France is more “experience + quality”

Cards exist in France, but Valentine’s leans harder toward:

  • flowers (hello, fleuristes),

  • chocolate (chocolatiers go into full temptation mode),

  • a special dinner,

  • a small meaningful gift,

  • or a love message that’s short enough to fit in your brain without embarrassment.

And culturally, France has a whole vocabulary for navigating romance without drowning in it.

My favorite is “fleur bleue”—meaning overly sentimental/romantic in that gooey way. You can be romantic in France, but you’re also allowed to tease it. (“Il est très fleur bleue.”) (The Connexion)

Practical takeaway:

  • In the U.S., a card can be the gift.

  • In France, a gesture often speaks louder than stationery.

4) Dinner culture: the French reservation Olympics vs. the American “let’s just see what’s available”

🇫🇷 France: Saint-Valentin often means a real reservation (and sometimes a special menu)

In France—especially in cities—Valentine’s Day is prime time for restaurants. The idea of a planned romantic evening is very “in the air,” and you’ll often see special menus or set experiences promoted around the date. (Sortiraparis)

This is where France shines: the meal as romance. Not rushed. Not loud. Not “we’ll just split mozzarella sticks.” More like: let’s sit, let’s talk, let’s be present.

🇺🇸 America: also dinner, but the script is more flexible (and sometimes wonderfully unserious)

Americans do romantic dinner too—absolutely. But we also do:

  • movie night + takeout,

  • cute themed desserts,

  • big gestures,

  • small gestures,

  • and sometimes “I booked the only remaining table at 9:45 PM next to the bathroom.” (Still counts!)

And again, the U.S. has a special talent for making Valentine’s accessible and goofy—like turning an ordinary place into a “romantic event” because why not. (AP News)

5) The French “extra” you might not know: the village called Saint-Valentin

Yes. France has a literal village named Saint-Valentin (in the Indre), and they host a love-themed festival (“Fête des Amoureux”) with markets, love letters stamped with a special cachet, and general adorable commitment to the bit. (Conseil départemental de l'Indre)

America would see this and say: “Brand opportunity!”
France sees it and says: “Non, c’est mignon.”

6) Gift philosophy: “more” vs. “meaning”

🇺🇸 American Valentine logic (affection = visible effort)

American gifting can skew bigger and more explicit: flowers, chocolates, jewelry, big boxes, big statements. Partly tradition, partly commercialization, partly the cultural belief that romance should be legible from across the street. (Encyclopedia Britannica)

🇫🇷 French Valentine logic (affection = taste + intention)

French gifting often feels more about:

  • quality over quantity,

  • the right item (or experience),

  • and not trying too hard in a way that looks like trying too hard.

A beautiful bouquet from a florist. A small box from a chocolatier. A dinner you actually thought about. It’s not minimalist—just… edited.

If America shouts “I LOVE YOU,” France murmurs “je t’ai vu, et j’ai choisi.” (I saw you, and I chose.)

7) Language: what you can say in France without accidentally proposing

Here’s the line I can now say in French that I couldn’t before (and it makes me feel 12% more French, which is basically citizenship in my heart):

“On fait quelque chose tous les deux ce soir ?”
(“Shall we do something, just the two of us, tonight?”)

It’s gentle. It’s not a speech. It’s not cringe. It’s… very France.

A tiny, curated language corner for every level (A1 → advanced)

A1 (survival-cute)

  • Bonne Saint-Valentin ! (Happy Valentine’s Day!)

  • Je t’aime. (I love you.)

  • Tu me plais. (I like you.) (safer/softer than “je t’aime”)

  • Une boîte de chocolats, s’il vous plaît. (A box of chocolates, please.)

A2 (real-life usable)

  • J’ai réservé une table. (I booked a table.)

  • On peut se promener après ? (Can we take a walk after?)

  • Je ne suis pas très fleur bleue… mais aujourd’hui, un peu. (I’m not super sentimental… but today, a little.) (The Connexion)

B1 (warm + natural)

  • J’avais peur que ce soit trop commercial, mais finalement c’est plutôt agréable.
    (I was afraid it would be too commercial, but in the end it’s actually pretty nice.)

  • Tu préfères un cadeau ou une soirée ensemble ?
    (Do you prefer a gift or an evening together?)

B2 (nuance + culture)

  • Ce qui compte, c’est l’attention, pas la mise en scène.
    (What matters is the thoughtfulness, not the staging.)

  • On peut célébrer sans se mettre la pression.
    (We can celebrate without putting pressure on ourselves.)

Advanced (playful + French)

  • Je t’aime—mais à voix basse, comme un secret bien élevé.
    (I love you—quietly, like a well-mannered secret.)

  • La Saint-Valentin, c’est surtout un prétexte élégant pour ralentir.
    (Valentine’s Day is mostly an elegant excuse to slow down.)

If you’re an American in France on Feb 14: a gentle cheat sheet

  • Don’t panic-buy 24 roses like you’re making a mortgage payment. A thoughtful bouquet is plenty.

  • If you want dinner out, book early (or embrace a very charming picnic-at-home). (Sortiraparis)

  • If you’re single: you’re not “left out,” you’re just not required to perform romance for society. Honestly? Iconic.

A few sources if you want to go deeper

Your turn 💬 (come be part of the Étranger Things community)

Tell us in the comments:

  1. Where did you learn Valentine’s Day “rules”? Family? Movies? School? Pure chaos?

  2. What surprised you most about Saint-Valentin in France (or in the U.S.)?

  3. For French learners: what’s your current comfort level saying something romantic in French—A1 bravery, B1 confidence, or advanced poetic terror?

And if you’re in Aix right now: did you notice any local Saint-Valentin details—special menus, chocolatier displays, florists going full red-and-pink mode? I’ll happily collect the evidence like a love anthropologist who still occasionally says “enchanté” at inappropriate emotional volume.

Location: France

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