“You might speak more French than you think”
You don’t need to wear a beret or dramatically whisper bonjour to speak French.
If you speak English, you already do.
Every day.
Without noticing.
Order food at a restaurant? French.
Talk about your résumé? French.
Feel déjà vu? Very French.
English is basically a linguistic smoothie. A little Germanic base, a big French splash, and random toppings from everywhere else.
Historians explain this mainly through one messy event called the Norman Conquest in 1066. French speaking rulers took over England, and suddenly the language of power, law, fashion, food, and culture became French.
For centuries, English just politely borrowed everything.
Or stole it. Depends who you ask.
Here are some everyday words that secretly pack a Parisian passport.
Restaurant
“Where hunger meets French history”
This one feels obvious once you hear it.
Restaurant comes straight from the French word restaurer, meaning to restore or refresh.
Originally, it described places serving restorative broths. Basically medieval chicken soup therapy.
Over time, it became the word for a place where you go to eat.
Which makes sense. After a long week, pasta absolutely restores my will to live.
So yes, every time you say “Let’s go to a restaurant,” you’re casually speaking French like it’s no big deal.
Très chic.
Résumé
“Your life story, but shorter and more stressful”
The word résumé literally means summary in French.
Nothing fancy.
Just a short version.
Which is ironically cruel, because reducing your entire existence to one page feels anything but simple.
The accent marks stayed because without them, resume means “start again,” which would make job applications even more confusing.
Linguists call this a direct borrowing, where a word enters English almost unchanged.
So next time you update your résumé at midnight questioning your life choices, blame France.
Genre
“A category with attitude”
We use genre constantly.
Music genres. Movie genres. Book genres.
But it still looks slightly intimidating to spell.
That’s because it comes straight from French, meaning type or kind.
English kept the spelling and the soft pronunciation.
Researchers studying language adoption note that cultural words, especially in art and literature, often stay closer to their original form. French had strong influence in those areas, so English basically said, “We’ll take it as is.”
Which is why genre feels elegant while “type of stuff” does not.
Café
“Not just coffee, but a whole vibe”
A café isn’t just a place to drink coffee.
It’s a mood.
Small tables. Mild existential thoughts. Someone typing a novel they will never finish.
The word came through French usage, although coffee itself traveled from Arabic to Europe first. France helped popularize café culture in cities, and the name stuck.
Sociologists even note that cafés historically became meeting spots for artists and thinkers.
So technically, buying a latte makes you part of a centuries old intellectual tradition.
Or you just needed caffeine. Both are valid.
Encore
“The word that refuses to leave the stage”
At concerts, when you shout encore, you’re literally yelling “again” in French.
Simple.
But it sounds way cooler than screaming “One more time, please, we are emotionally attached.”
Performing arts borrowed heavily from French terminology for centuries. Ballet, theater, music, all deeply influenced by French culture.
So we kept the word because it just feels theatrical.
Also because nobody wants to chant “repeat performance.”
Zero drama in that.
Fiancé and Fiancée
“Love, but make it grammatical”
English could have said “future spouse.”
Instead we borrowed fiancé and fiancée because romance apparently needs accents.
In French, the spelling changes depending on gender. English mostly keeps both versions, although plenty of people skip the accents altogether.
Still, it’s one of those words that instantly sounds fancier than it really is.
You’re not just engaged.
You have a fiancé.
Suddenly everything feels like a movie trailer.
Bureau
“It used to mean a piece of furniture”
Today, bureau often means an office or department.
But originally, in French, it referred to a desk covered with cloth.
The word described the furniture first, not the workplace.
Over time, the meaning expanded to the people working at that desk.
Language researchers often point out this pattern where physical objects become symbolic for entire systems.
Kind of like how “the crown” means royalty.
Or how “my desk” somehow means “all my responsibilities and mild stress.”
Same idea.
Souvenir
“Memory you can accidentally break”
Souvenir comes from the French verb meaning to remember.
So a souvenir is literally something that helps you remember.
That tiny Eiffel Tower keychain suddenly sounds poetic.
Instead of “cheap object from airport shop,” it becomes “memory holder.”
Much nicer.
Although it still ends up dusty in a drawer next to old cables.
Let’s be honest.
When you really look at it, English isn’t just one language.
It’s a collection of historical friendships, invasions, trade routes, and cultural crushes.
French left fingerprints everywhere. On food, fashion, art, romance, and even your job applications.
And the funny part?
We use these words so naturally that we don’t even hear the accent anymore.
Language doesn’t ask permission. It just quietly blends in until it feels like home.
So tomorrow, when you meet a friend at a café, talk about your résumé, and grab dinner at a restaurant, congratulations.
You just spoke French all day without trying.
Not bad for someone who only knows “bonjour.”