What Ever Happened to the Salon? Once the Hub of Gossip, Ideas, and Cigarette Smoke
Source: Squarespace/ Unsplash
The Original Safe Spaces During Revolutionary France
During Revolutionary France, salons served as crucial spaces for intellectual exchange, political discussion, and social networking—especially in an era where public discourse was rapidly transforming. Hosted largely by influential women known as salonnières, these gatherings brought together philosophers, writers, politicians, and members of the emerging bourgeoisie to debate Enlightenment ideas, challenge traditional authority, and engage with the political upheavals of the time.
While salons had existed during the Ancien Régime as elite venues for literary and philosophical discussion, their role shifted during the Revolution. They became more politicized, often reflecting and shaping public opinion on key issues like liberty, equality, citizenship, and the role of monarchy. In a period of censorship and political instability, salons provided a relatively safe—though not immune—space for dissent and radical thought. They played a vital role in the formation of modern political culture, where ideas and ideologies were debated not just in official forums but also in semi-private gatherings that helped bridge the public and private spheres.
Modern Idea Sharing
The concept of a salon has drastically evolved since Revolutionary France. Before podcasts replaced dinner conversations and group chats took the place of low-lit banquettes, there was the café salon—a corner of culture where gossip, ideas, and espresso flowed freely. Think Paris in the 1920s, New York in the ‘60s, or even Los Angeles in the early 2000s. A time when someone would pull up a chair not to work on a laptop, but to ask, “Did you hear what happened to—?” and then tell you, whether you asked or not.
So where did that space go?
Blame it partly on Wi-Fi. As coffee shops became productivity zones, the once communal hum of conversation gave way to the soft clatter of keyboards and noise-canceling headphones. What used to be a live feed of social chatter is now muted by people plugged into their own private feeds. Cafés have gone from being places to talk to being places to avoid being talked to.
Then came Instagram, which turned every table into a content opportunity. The vibe shifted from intimate and spontaneous to curated and performative. The woman who used to lean in and whisper gossip across a marble table is now filming her cappuccino from four angles, carefully cropping out her friend’s expression.
Source: Squaresace/ Unsplash
Community ENgagement
Salons were not always just places of gossip but also places to showcase new and emerging art and artists. It allowed for those without a voice to have their moment in the spotlight.
In New York City, the once-vibrant tradition of public performance has, in many cases, devolved into a source of frustration for everyday residents. What was once celebrated as spontaneous street culture has too often become intrusive or chaotic—subway cars turning into stages for unsolicited acrobatics or loud music, and sidewalks overtaken by rambling individuals aggressively demanding money rather than sharing their art. This decline in the quality and intentionality of public performance has left a cultural vacuum in a city long known for its artistic vibrancy.
Increasingly, the responsibility of nurturing talent and creating meaningful cultural moments has fallen to cafés, restaurants, bookstores, and galleries. These local businesses have quietly become the new salons and stewards of urban creativity, offering space and support for musicians refining their sound, actors running through monologues, professors hosting free talks, and even local politicians testing out speeches. In a city where real estate pressure often pushes out non-commercial expression, these venues act as sanctuaries for struggling artists. If New York’s creative soul is to survive, it will be because these small businesses choose to foster it, curating a quieter, more intentional form of public life that invites participation rather than demands attention.
The Threshold Of Truth
But the biggest culprit to the loss of salons as a platform for sharing authentic free thought might be our relationship to discretion. Gossip used to thrive in the gray area between public and private. In salons, the stories had just enough distance from the outside world to feel deliciously illicit. Now, with social media blurring that line entirely, everyone is both the subject and the audience, afraid of being screenshotted. What once would’ve been whispered over wine is now typed out and deleted, rewritten, or left unsaid.
And yet, people still crave it—the thrill of knowing something first, of telling someone something they shouldn’t know, of seeing reactions in real time. Maybe that’s why, in certain corners of cities like New York or London, you can still find shadow versions of the old salons. They just don’t announce themselves. They’re hidden in the back room of a gallery opening, at an after-hours dinner party, or clustered in the smoking section behind a members-only club. Not posted. Not streamed. No phones out. Just people, talking.
Because even in an age of AI and infinite content, nothing beats hearing, “Wait till you hear this…” from across the table.
