On Lisbon As This Century’s Paris

Experimental creativity, extravagant parties, liberal drug laws and affordable housing—the buzz of Lisbon's expat and nomad scene feels like 1920s Paris.

On a Saturday night in April, I’m in the gardens of a lavish mansion somewhere on the outskirts of Lisbon. An elated crowd of young, beautiful, global people dances around me in a mist of glitter, laughter, and vape smoke. The party’s host, a DJ of Parisian origin named Shugi, provides an eclectic soundtrack of techno tunes. It has the atmosphere of Glastonbury, but with much better weather and a dedicated cleaning team to keep the toilets in order.

Drink and drugs flow freely, but people here aren’t using substances to escape—only to enhance. It’s a far cry from the party cultures of other European cities. The mantra here seems to be: “Work hard, play hard, but don’t forget to take pleasure in each moment.” People in London are tired, people in Paris are unimpressed, and people in Amsterdam are happy. But people in Lisbon? They’re alive.

Lisbon’s DJ Shugi at a party in 2021

The day after—with comedowns, hangovers, and perhaps a regrettable one-night stand in tow—there are solid options for a lazy recovery: witness the sunrise from one of the region’s close-by beaches, smoke a joint or two with friends in the greenery of a park, or dissect the night’s events over brunch at a restaurant.

The conditions for this kind of lifestyle can’t be manufactured, and achieving the right vibe is a certain kind of magic. Things must come together in a perfect mix of serendipity: city, venue, people, fashion, music, conversations. These are the ingredients of a scene. And when it works, it just works.

Lisbon Is This Century’s Paris

In the 1920s, Paris was a gathering place for artists from all over the world. It became known as a hotspot for freedom, creativity, and experimental living—somewhere people went to embrace extravagance, diversity, and radical self-expression. Many North American and European writers abandoned their countries of origin to take up residence in Paris, where they lived, worked, and played as part of a global crowd.

Members of the Paris scene dine at Chez Josephine in the 1920s

Fast forward 100 years, and Paris is still trading off the reputation this community built, and their ideas continue to influence thought, art, and culture worldwide.

In 1922, the American-born bookseller Sylvia Beach published James Joyce’s Ulysses from Paris—still among the 20th century’s most notable works of fiction. The book was banned in the US, the UK, and Joyce’s home country of Ireland for over a decade, censored for its scenes depicting masturbation and menstruation.

Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer (1934) is a first-person account of the sexual and travel adventures of the stereotypical American bohemian in Paris. George Orwell was there, working as a dishwasher in restaurants—an experience he immortalized in Down and Out in Paris and London (1933). Ernest Hemingway wrote a memoir, too—posthumously assembled as A Moveable Feast in 1964—which features the whole cast of Parisian characters from that period: James Joyce, Ezra Pound, Wyndham Lewis, Ford Madox Ford, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Gertrude Stein.

Stein was a novelist, playwright, poet, and art collector who made the move from California in 1903 and spent the rest of her life in Paris. She was among the scene’s most dedicated community builders, hosting regular salons for creatives to exchange ideas, critique work, collaborate, and connect. Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, the entertainer and activist Josephine Baker, and the world-renowned dancer Isadora Duncan were all regular attendees.

This group of artists became known as the Lost Generation. Looking back on his time in 1920s Paris, the poet Archibald MacLeish wrote:^

It was not the Lost Generation which was lost: It was the world out of which that generation came. And it was not a generation of expatriates who found themselves in Paris in those years but a generation whose “patria,” wherever it may once have been, was no longer waiting for them anywhere.

MacLeish’s words could have been penned by a Substack writer talking about Lisbon in 2023. A mix of expats, nomads, tech workers, artists, and other interesting characters—drawn from countries all across the world—are driving the emergence of a movement that feels unlike anywhere else right now.

In 2020s Lisbon, influence is currency. Here, now, a twenty-something can aspire to be a famous music producer and have a side hustle as a socialite in the meantime—carving out an income in exchange for throwing great parties. Everyone you meet aspires to something; is the main character in their own story; sees their wildest dreams as within reach. This isn’t hustle culture, it’s creative culture: a culture of people pursuing vibrant, fulfilling, and interesting lives.

There’s a thriving market for what’s globally good but still enough dilapidation and grit to keep things interesting. Culture is in the cracks, like in London or New York: relentless and intoxicating creativity, secret viewing spots, legendary street food, hidden-away bars, and other unexpected things to discover and tell your friends about. You can find every food culture imaginable here—all made to an impressively high standard—and nobody cooks because it’s affordable to eat out. You’ll hear 10 different languages as you walk down the street on a weeknight.

What’s happening in the Portuguese capital goes beyond pan-Europeanism and into a global sense of both place and identity. Something new is being born in Lisbon.

The Good Life is Affordable

So, what makes all this possible? Most of it comes down to one simple but important factor: affordability.

Lisbon provides a “good enough” lifestyle—the city is not the best the world has to offer, but an excellent place to live, even on an artist’s salary. It’s somewhere creatives and knowledge workers can enjoy affordable housing, liberal drug laws, experimental creativity, and a lifestyle of dining out, fabulous parties, and weekend trips to other parts of the country. The same cannot be said of other European cities. Each has its charms, but the combination isn’t nearly as tantalising, or affordable, as Lisbon.

The Ponte 25 de Abril bridge over Lisbon’s Tagus River

As Jonathan Littman wrote in his LA Magazine piece The New California Dream Is In Portugal (October 2021):

Many Californians’ new freedom to work from anywhere only elevates Portugal’s allure…Visa programs run by the Portuguese government streamline the process to hire American workers. Taxes are low. Broadband is ubiquitous. Direct trans-Atlantic fiber optic cable provides home network speeds averaging a gigabyte per minute. There’s even the Portuguese time zone advantage: an hour closer than the rest of Europe to California and New York.

In San Francisco last year, everyone I spoke to commented on how artists and writers could no longer afford to live there—that there’d been a mass exodus as a result, and the character of the city had changed. This highlights an important point: artists don’t tend to make much money, but they are at the heart of a city’s social, cultural, and intellectual capital. They may not be where the economic value is, but the value they deliver to a place and its scene is significant.

It’s not enough to welcome tech talent alone. You need the right conditions to attract creative, cultural, and social capital too. The sweet spot for a truly thriving scene is affordability for a wide diversity of people.

But affordability alone isn’t enough; you also need to provide access.

It’s All in the Visas

You visit Lisbon and think, “Maybe I should just move here!” In the movie version of your life, you just do it: get on a plane and begin a new chapter. In the real-life story, however, you realise you have to deal with the practicalities: visas, taxes, borders, and immigration systems. Hollywood usually glosses over all this, but these life admin tasks are real for anyone who tries—and, too often, they scare people off.

Alice Maz captured it well in a recent tweet reflecting on how differently history might have played out if people in the past had encountered the global mobility restrictions we face today:

Policy plays an important role in helping a scene like this flourish, and Portugal has many things right. After the 2008 financial crisis, the government made it easy for people to move to the country. The goal was twofold: attract foreign talent and investment, and entice back the graduates who left for better job opportunities elsewhere in Europe. This strategy was incredibly successful: Portugal’s golden visa program raised €1.7 million a day for nearly ten years straight and largely reversed the country’s brain drain.

But, crucially, Portugal’s golden visa program—designed for new arrivals making property or business investments of at least €250,000—wasn’t the only global mobility tool the government made available. The D7 visa allows a freelancer earning as little as €12,000 per year to relocate to the country. So, artists, hospitality workers, hairdressers, and just about anybody who wants to come and soak up the atmosphere has the chance to do so. And the flow of people comes not just from advanced economies, but from emerging economies too—making for a much more interesting and global population than just North American and EU migrants.

Integration seems to be working well in Portugal—the influx of expats and nomads is making the place better for everyone. Inevitably, there’s also been some public backlash against foreigners and gentrification. Still, the difference between Lisbon when I visited four years ago and now is obvious and visible: revitalised neighbourhoods, improved public transport, and many new businesses run by locals, especially in terms of bars, restaurants, hotels, and coworking spaces.

Lisbon feels like a land of opportunity—the new frontier in experimental living for global citizens. I predict some of the most influential art and ideas of the 2020s will be made in Lisbon. In the 2120s, we’ll probably still be talking about the DJs, movie stars, authors, actors, entrepreneurs, and restauranteurs who made a scene notable enough that people are still talking about it 100 years later. It will leave an imprint on the world just as 1920s Paris did.