France in a tube

A selection of 8 everyday products that might just change your life.

They fit in a pocket, a drawer, or a toiletry bag. They’re often made of metal, sometimes rigid plastic, and you have to squeeze them with your fingertips or roll them carefully to extract their contents. Tubes are pure concentrate, concentrate of know-how, of taste, of care, of scent, of eras. They tell of a certain relationship to things: utilitarian, compact, and a little old-fashioned.

I’m talking about those soft, cylindrical containers with a small threaded spout and a flat-folded bottom, meant to hold a paste-like substance that only comes out under finger pressure—and nothing else. Here, the packaging matters as much as what’s inside, because the tube is a tribute to routine, a promise to defy the passing of time.

Both survivalist and aesthetic, practical and fetishistic, beautiful and uncool, the tube twists and turns, gets bent and folded—but never breaks. We only bring ourselves to throw it away after having wrung it out meticulously, down to the very last drop—and it's only at that precise moment, which doesn’t come often, that we realize just how much we loved it and how much we miss it.

Here is the tube of tubes: a selection of eight everyday products that might just change your life.

“Majoline” Metal Polish

Majoline smells like tarnished silver, antique buffet brass, and the warm sheen of old copper pans. It’s a beauty cream, the promise of a glow with a touch of magical shine. A secret, miracle remedy, made in France and shipped just once a month from the workshops on Boulevard Bastille in Paris.

Fallot Dijon Mustard

Isn’t this, after all, the best way to store mustard? Stone-ground by the legendary Fallot company in Beaune, near Dijon, and made with local Burgundy mustard seeds, this is the real deal. You simply can’t leave France without a tube—don’t argue with me, sinon la moutarde me monte au nez!
(literally: “the mustard is rising to my nose,” a French expression meaning “I’m starting to lose my temper.”)

Saint-Bernard Balm

If you know Tiger Balm, you’ll love Saint-Bernard Balm. This mountain medicine cabinet classic, with its camphor scent, soothes sore muscles. Somewhere between mystical ointment and your grandmother’s salve, it was apparently created by a pharmacist in the French Alps.

Imbert Chestnut Cream from Aubenas

For over 100 years and across three generations, the Imbert family has carried on the tradition of Ardèche chestnuts, from a region nestled between the Auvergne mountains and the Rhône Valley. Their chestnut cream has a silky, delicate texture and subtle sweetness, allowing the fruit’s natural flavor to shine. The perfect companion for a crêpe.

“Luxury Cream” Shoe Polish by Baranne

A chocolate-colored tube with a name that evokes suede and the vintage chic of the 1950s. Baranne is the crème de la crème for elegant leather. The kind you’d gently brush onto Sunday loafers before mass or driving gloves before taking out the convertible. Made in France with local beeswax, and even available at the supermarket.

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Salidou Caramel Cream by La Maison d’Armorine

Salted butter caramel in a tube: simple idea, instant pleasure. Squeeze and out comes Brittany. More convenient than a jar, perfect for crêpes on the go or seaside toast. A thoroughly French sweet, packaged like an ointment by the Breton confectionery that also created the iconic candies “niniches.”

“Cinnamon, Mint, and Clove” Toothpaste by Botot

Recently resurrected under the wing of Roger Cavaillès, Botot proudly claims the title of France’s oldest toothpaste. Created in 1755, approved by King Louis XV, and mentioned by Balzac, today it’s a full range of high-quality products you’ll find at your better pharmacies.

Bonus : Balloon Paste

There’s nothing practical about this one. Just air, plastic, and childhood. Balloon paste is the only tube that makes space: colorful, slightly toxic, totally useless bubbles. The dreamer’s tube—for old-school birthday parties and sticky fingers.