A hybrid approach

NB: I believe there’s a new generation of architects exploring alternative, hybrid studio models that weren’t so common in the past. These models embrace a more transversal way of working—engaging with interior design, refurbishment, programming, furniture design, research—rather than following the traditional path from first brief to completed building. There are many ways to contribute to the conception or construction of a project, even if it’s just a small part. I think it’s important to stay open and experiment with new models. That’s often how starting a firm happens—almost by accident. For me, it all began with a single request from a client. I remember thinking, “Could I actually do this on my own?” 

I studied at the Paris-Belleville School of Architecture and spent a year on exchange in Montreal. After graduating, I joined the Louis Vuitton Architecture Design Office at LVMH, working on retail projects. It was a large team—around 70 architects—which felt huge compared to the Paris offices I knew. Working in a large and highly structured team gave me strong insight into how international design processes are managed. However, I realised that what I was looking for was the opportunity to be more closely involved in design decisions and to carry out projects from concept to completion. That’s what motivated me to move toward more independent practice. A few months later, I joined Studio Vincent Eschalier, which at the time was a small architectural office in Paris with just four people. It was a promising team, right at the cusp of scaling up. Within a few months, we started working on larger projects, taking a big step forward. It was an incredible time to gain practical skills and develop my own working method. When I left, there were around 15 architects—and now the studio has grown to 35.

What I liked about working there was the autonomy. I was leading projects alone quite early, two or three years after joining. It was amazing. I had a view of the structure, administration, and communication because we did everything ourselves—there were only a few of us, so we participated in every aspect of organising the firm. We were all young and full of ideas, so it was really cool. I started working on smaller projects and eventually led a big refurbishment with a budget of eight or nine million. I was acting as chief manager, and I was tempted to see if I could work on my own projects myself. So, when I had a personal request, I thought, okay, let’s try it—I’m able to do this.

My boss was actually very supportive. When I told him I wanted to try starting my own practice and take on a project independently, he encouraged me. We kept working together—he passed along some projects from the office that I could lead through my own firm, and even shared others that he had decided not to take on. So he helped me develop my own firm, and we’ve collaborated since. That’s why I think new ways of collaborating between structures are fascinating. So, in 2018, I started working for myself.

Growing in ambition

NB: That first project was a domestic refurbishment, and within a few months, I already had three or four more. Things moved very quickly from there. They ranged from flats of 50 to 150 square metres—not huge, but it was a way to test my method and see if I could find my voice, assist clients without a manager, and develop my own way of doing things. It actually worked well. Those projects led to one or two more, then others came—professional clients such as developers and doctors who wanted to build their practices. I had a flow and was able to choose the clients I wanted. After almost seven years, I’ve led more than 30 flat renovations, but I’ve also taken on new programmes that opened up paths I’m now trying to develop further. Over the past seven years, I’ve led more than 70 projects across approximately 20 cities in France — from Paris and its surrounding suburbs, to Bordeaux, Versailles, Saint-Germain-en-Laye, Arâches-la-Frasse in the Alps, and Brest in Brittany. The projects range in size from compact 19-square-metre spaces to complete transformations of over 3,500 square metres. This diversity in both scale and context has shaped a highly adaptive and technically engaged practice. We’ve worked on private flats, coworking spaces, medical clinics, office buildings, rooftop extensions, and heritage renovations — often in complex regulatory or structural conditions. Some projects have required heavy restructuring, integration of technical systems, or delicate interventions in listed buildings. This variety of programmes and technical challenges has been essential to refining our methodology and strengthening our ability to deliver precise, contextual responses to each project.

One example is a radiology practice in Paris, set within a former commercial space. It was a highly technical project due to the many regulations required for such an environment. It was the first time I truly felt I was engaging as an architectural expert with doctors who were experts in their own field. Together, we shaped the idea of how they wanted to work, and their input helped me do my job better. Everyone brought their expertise to the table, and that collaboration led to an exceptional project. That way of working is something I really want to pursue. Residential and private client projects are interesting because you can test design and decoration ideas. But it can be challenging to convince clients, especially when they come with a clear idea of how they want to live—often backed by reference images from Pinterest. It makes it harder to assert your expertise.

A few months ago, a private professional client came to me to develop a restaurant, café, and coworking space in Bordeaux. It’s an amazing place with a rich programme, connecting workers. I love these kinds of clients. They have ideas, wishes, and objectives, but their ideas go in many directions, and you have to concentrate them into one clear project brief. That’s something I really enjoy now.

A very personal methodology

NB: A big part of my design approach focuses on listening to the client and connecting to their ideas and objectives. Sometimes it’s like what we call in French maïeutique (the Socratic method)—helping the client express the inner idea they struggle to put into words. It’s almost like being a psychologist. We talk a lot at the beginning. I collect many details about how they want to live, their ideal space for work or living. I translate this into design plans or schemes before offering a really structured methodology. I have developed guidelines to help clients understand how we can start with a broad brief full of ideas and gradually shape it into something structured. We break the process into phases, which brings clarity and direction—from the initial concept down to details like fabric choices, colours, or even designing custom furniture like a banquette.

Clients I’ve worked with often say they like the trusting way I lead them, holding their hand to reassure them through the construction process and making them participate fully. I think the key to success is that every brief and programme can be interesting. One of my projects was published widely but wasn’t that exciting programmatically—I could have taken other contracts with more interesting programmes. But what made it a success was the connection between me and my client, our communication, and teamwork. We included the workers as well, so it was a true team effort.

It was a horizontal process—not me working alone in my office—but all working together to make it happen. The project was difficult, and I struggled at times to reach the end. I was working with clients of all generations—some over 60—and their view of architecture differed from ours.

Complete transformations

NB: One of my projects was featured on Never Too Small, a video series showcasing compact homes around the world. It was a big surprise. I designed it during COVID, which made everything more complex—we had to handle the entire design process remotely, and construction took place during the second or third lockdown. Despite the small scale and relatively simple structure, the project had a strong impact. It really demonstrated what can be achieved through a close connection with the client.

The project was a small duplex in the 18th district of Paris. It was abandoned for years, 50 square metres on two levels, which were not connected — there was only a hole in the ceiling to go upstairs. The structure had to be reinforced: the floors, the roof, everything had to be refurbished. It was all about giving a sense of space and volume, and bringing every quality of a big flat you can find in Paris into this project. So, with the client, we imagined we were elsewhere and tried to give the quality of a Parisian rooftop. And it worked. After reinforcing everything, we relocated the use of every space: the reception area on the first floor, the bathroom on the second floor—the quality of a big renovation. What makes this project stand out is not just its final aesthetic but the level of architectural transformation it required: structural consolidation, a complete shift in spatial organisation, and a fully reimagined layout within strict constraints of a rooftop duplex. It shows how even small-scale projects can carry the complexity and ambition of much larger ones.

I find this programme interesting because I enjoy working with compact living spaces that involve structural and reinforcement challenges. I’ve had other projects published where the final results highlight skills in decoration and interior design, but don’t reveal the architectural work behind them—such as mixing uses, reinforcing floors, or opening structural walls. That’s the thing — when you have a young firm like mine, you can end up being labelled an interior designer just because the first project you do is an interior one. But with this one, Villa Saint-Michel, it was okay because when clients came to me with that reference, they saw all the structural work and that we were reinventing an old attic, starting from zero. 

After working on so many projects, I’m now in a position to choose. Some clients approach me just to design shelves, a kitchen, or a bathroom, but I say no—I don’t take on partial renovations. I want to transform the entire space, or at the very least, be involved in the full process from start to finish. 

Continuity over demolition

NB: When you start a practice in Paris as a young architect, you’re told that investing in existing buildings is not for architects. You have to build something new, create your design from start to finish. But I like, and continue to like, investing in existing buildings because it’s about creating a continuum between the history of a place and the new goals of our clients — to create a storyline. In Paris, that’s what’s amazing—there are so many opportunities to work with the existing, and every project has its own history. I’ve worked in the Faubourg area, in buildings made of wood and plaster. When you open up a floor or a wall, it feels like archaeology—you uncover layers of the past. For example, in one project, we reused beams that weren’t even structural; they had come from a wall we demolished, and before that, from another neighbourhood altogether.

With this extended experience working on existing buildings, I’ve developed a strategy based on taking inventory of what’s already there and what we can build on—then carefully adding our own layers. It’s not going back to zero, not total demolition and building a copy of a new project — it’s continuing something. The inventory is important. If we can reuse an old floor and renovate it, or keep the structure of the ceiling, or keep the doors — I always keep all the wooden oak doors, renovate them, send them to the painter, and bring them back to the flat. Every time we don’t reuse materials on one project, I try with the company I work with to reuse them on the next projects.

Creative grounds in Bordeaux

NB: Working in Paris allowed me to develop both architectural and structural skills alongside interior design. But the programme we’re now developing in Bordeaux—a mix of co-working and hospitality—is particularly exciting and brings a new dimension to the practice. Working in Paris on permits and with the Parisian administration means dealing with very strong urban constraints. You have to know that field to get a construction permit, and it’s quite complicated. I manage it well now because of experience, but for a young architect starting in Paris, it’s hard to get approval because of heritage rules and everything.

Working in Bordeaux is refreshing. You can actually reach the administration, speak directly with people at the town hall, get support with the design, and connect with those who have the power to approve your project. Just a few months ago, I submitted a permit file, and the administration responded, 'We love the project—maybe just add this to clarify that part of the programme.' It was amazing. They helped me strengthen the narrative to get the project approved. That kind of energy from the city’s administrative side is rare and really encouraging. There are people who want creativity and new ways of mixing programmes, which is great for clients with ideas.

For this client, we imagined 1,000 square metres of co-working in an old factory building and a traditional stone mansion in Bordeaux, connected by a courtyard. We had to develop coherent work areas for independent workers. We designed sports facilities and organised spaces for work, parties, and lunches. These hybrid projects don’t come with a clear programme in square metres; we have to imagine together and make sketches to see if it works. 

A firm in transition 

NB: I’m entering a new phase of my practice, aiming to establish a more agile and hybrid way of working. In 2024, my practice was selected by Bpifrance for the national Accelerator Architecture & Design—France 2030 programme. This initiative identifies 30 promising firms in France and supports their strategic development through coaching, training, and peer dialogue. This recognition has reinforced my commitment to building a resilient, high-performing practice with a lean, expert-based structure. For each project, I now select a bespoke team, drawing on independent collaborators and consultants to create efficient, project-specific working groups. For each project, I now assemble small, tailored teams—bringing together architects I’ve collaborated with before and engineers with specific expertise. Instead of positioning myself as the architect with assistants executing my ideas, I see the project as a collective effort, where each contributor brings their own knowledge and skill. It’s about building a team of experts, not a hierarchy. I’m building horizontal expert connections on every project, which leads to a more agile way of organising my work. I’m also free to have a really flexible schedule and organise everything without a traditional office, as we usually imagine it. This evolution also mirrors a broader shift in our profession: from traditional office-based structures toward more agile, networked models. I see this not just as a personal choice but as a response to the contemporary challenges of architectural practice—where adaptability, collaboration, and economic sustainability are key.

This approach also gives me the possibility to explore other ways of getting contracts. I’m doing construction and renovation projects, but I’m also coaching small interior design companies that want to focus on structuring their business and organising the tools to make a profitable firm. Alongside my architecture practice, I draw on my business and coaching experience to help develop architecture firms into solid, financially sustainable enterprises. As architects, we’re often well-trained in design, but less so in building a business. That’s why I also support small practices in strengthening their operations and long-term stability.