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Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, drab Troyes has been transformed into a colorful little town awash in great art and architecture. Go now, before the word gets out.
Troyes is only 100 miles southeast of the capital, yet few Parisians think of it as a destination. For that matter, there are relatively few visitors from anywhere. This town of 62,000 souls is so far off the beaten tourist track that locals ruefully refer to it as “Troyes la méconnue”—“Troyes the overlooked.” Yet tiny Troyes is a cultural jewel, with no fewer than six museums and 10 churches on the historical register—including a cathedral that boasts one of France’s most exquisite collections of stained glass. And all are within easy walking distance, tucked into a beautifully preserved city center that dates back to the Renaissance.
Admittedly, the former capital of Champagne only recently emerged from a long economic decline, and residents are the first to say that Troyes languished for years, deserving its reputation as a dull, sleepy provincial town. But there has been a striking metamorphosis: Churches have been restored, cobblestone streets have been turned over to pedestrians, public squares have been built, new shops and restaurants have opened and—most delightful of all—the town’s half-timbered houses have regained their former color and charm.
Long associated with poverty and unhealthy living conditions (and considered fire hazards), these storybook structures were plastered over for centuries. Now they are being stripped down to their wooden bones and rebuilt with modern conveniences inside and historic authenticity outside. This type of restoration is called plumage—a term that usually means “plucking a bird.” So many of these buildings have been refurbished that Troyes now claims Europe’s highest concentration of half-timbered houses.
“When I was a student, I was ashamed to say I came from Troyes,” says Annabelle Jaillant, who works at the town’s cultural center. “It was a depressing, stagnant place. Today you can hardly recognize it—all these colorful buildings are so cheerful!”
The cultural center is housed in the Maison du Boulanger, a 16th-century landmark that narrowly escaped the wrecking ball. Residents have a special place in their hearts for this building, which was the first to be restored, effectively kicking off the city’s renaissance. It owes its survival to the 1962 Malraux Law, which made it possible to classify historic neighborhoods as “safeguarded sectors”—a measure that preserved much of France’s architectural heritage from certain destruction.
Paradoxically, the town’s economic misfortunes also worked in its favor. Unlike other cities that were built up in the ’60s and ’70s, Troyes was shunned by investors and developers and thus spared the ravages of misguided modernity. Fully aware of the value of its historic heritage, it is now sprucing up without sacrificing any of its authenticity. Jean-François Nivet, the author of Troyes Roman (Editions Séquences), an erudite love letter to the town’s past, puts it this way: “What’s gone is that run-down look and fustiness that visitors from previous centuries remarked on. Troyes is powdering her nose and putting on makeup; there’s a sense of newness.”
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