When you think of Paris, what comes to mind? Croissants, balconies, existential crises—maybe that time you briefly dated a guy who chain smoked and wore a leather jacket. Paris has also become a topic of curiosity for a different reason: egg freezing.

Egg freezing in Paris sounds high-key glam — like ballet flats that don’t hurt and endless espressos without the anxiety (think Brigitte Bardot). But the reality? Less Bardot, more Camus. France only just legalised non-medical egg freezing. And we repeat: They JUST legalised egg freezing.

And somehow, despite the catching up, the system is still steeped in bureaucracy, medical gatekeeping, and state-level paternalism that would make your grandfather blush. For women in the UK curious about options abroad, we hate to break the news: France is not the one.

Let’s break it down—with sarcasm and a sprinkle of despair.

So… wait, egg freezing wasn’t legal in France? Like, at all?

Correct. Until 2021, France only allowed egg freezing if you had a medical reason—think chemotherapy, not commitment-phobia. If your ovaries were perfectly healthy but your love life resembled the second act of Marriage Story? Pas possible.

The big bioethics update finally came in August 2021, when egg freezing became legal for all women under 43. Great, right? Except it was delivered with all the fanfare of a rock hard baguette. No campaign, no awareness, no Instagrammable slogan. Just a quiet bureaucratic shrug. “Fine.”

Also in that same legislative glow-up: the long-overdue right for lesbian couples and single women to access IVF. Yes, you read that correctly. Until 2021, queer women in France were legally barred from fertility treatment. Because, according to France, lesbians shouldn’t have babies. This level of logic? Jail.

When you consider France likes to market itself as a haven of gender equality, these maths aren’t adding. Progressive in theory, paternalistic in practice.

Why was it banned in the first place?

Ah, France: the land of liberté, égalité… and a centuries-old obsession with regulating uteruses.

From banning contraception ads in the '60s to criminalising abortion until 1975, the French state has made a full-time job of deciding who gets to do what with their body. It’s reproductive freedom—but only if it fits the national narrative of the nuclear family (ideally heterosexual, perfectly coiffed, and dining in Provence).

Behind the designer suits and progressive image lies a state that’s historically acted like an overbearing father. Fertility was—and often still is—treated as a state asset. Your uterus? Not so much yours as a national treasure to be managed. The state decides who deserves access, and when.

Bioethics laws in France have been shaped by post-war pronatalism and Catholic guilt with a side of moral superiority. Assisted reproductive technologies were long seen as tools for the sick or the married—not for single women who might just want to have kids on their own terms. Women asking to freeze their eggs for personal reasons? That was considered indulgent at best, and unnatural at worst.

This isn’t about health. It’s about control. And women have known it for decades.

Awareness? Still in the group chat phase.

You’d think legalising egg freezing would come with fireworks and a Chanel-branded info kit. Mais non. No hotline. No national awareness campaign. No helpful pop-up mid-Pap smear. Just a quiet little legislative tweak that most women heard about through That One Friend who reads feminist newsletters.

And because the system couldn’t be bothered to text us, women are finding out way too late. “Wait—freezing your eggs is legal now?” Yep. Since 2021. “Why didn’t anyone say anything?” Good question. Maybe around your 37th birthday when your aunt handed you a tarot deck and a lecture.

According to a 2024 study in Reproductive Biomedicine Online, most French women who’ve frozen their eggs heard about it through word of mouth—not their doctor. (ScienceDirect) Word. Of. Mouth. As if reproductive autonomy is a secret supper club you can only get into if your bestie lets you in on it over Comté and Pinot Noir.

Stats check out too: in 2022—the first full year post-legalisation—only about 2,500 women froze their eggs in France. In a country with over 67 million people. (Le Monde)

Meanwhile in the UK (aka the land of expensive brunch and private fertility clinics), over 4,000 egg freezing cycles happened in 2021 alone—with zero NHS coverage. We’re doing double the freezing without a single government co-sign.

So yes, France technically made it legal. But if no one tells you, and no one helps you, is it even real? Or just another beautifully wrapped promise with absolutely nothing inside?

Part of the problem is that doctors in France often don’t mention egg freezing at all. There’s no protocol. You have to ask. And even then, your GP may look at you like you’ve asked for a Botox voucher. The only difference is that - depending on who your doctor is - that might be more palatable.

Who’s freezing their eggs—and why

Spoiler: it’s not just career-hungry women pausing motherhood for the next round of promotions. Most women freezing their eggs are doing it because—drumroll—they haven’t met someone decent.

In France, this is especially glaring. Urban women are independent, educated, emotionally fluent, and not about to settle for some guy whose idea of commitment is letting you keep a toothbrush at his flat. And yet, the dating scene? A hot mess of Peter Pan types in APC jeans who think therapy is for Americans.

French women aren’t just unlucky in love. They’re rejecting a dynamic that no longer serves them. The same dynamic that expects them to be low-maintenance but glam, endlessly forgiving without asking anything in return, and grateful to iron your boyfriend’s underwear. No thank you. Women - whether in Paris or the world - want more—and we deserve more.

Women freezing their eggs in France are also disproportionately urban. Studies and clinic reports suggest the women seeking fertility preservation in France are primarily Parisian, in their mid-to-late thirties, and have already waited years for a partner who doesn’t think “We’ll see” is a love language.

So women wait. But they don’t wait passively. They freeze. Not because they’re desperate, but because they’re hopeful. Because they know what they want. And because they’d rather become mothers on their own terms than lower the bar to subterranean levels.

The system? One giant non.

You’d think with fertility rates dropping and sperm counts plummeting (true story—French sperm quality has significantly declined), the government would be like, “Oui! Let’s fix this!”

Mais non. Public fertility clinics are a logistical nightmare.

At big Paris hospitals like Cochin or Tenon, wait times for a first consultation can be six to twelve months. Then comes more waiting—for tests, paperwork, stimulation cycles. The whole thing can drag out over a year.

And if you’re 42 and hoping to slide in just before the cut-off? Good luck. Some clinics will ghost you entirely if you’re too close to 43.

Even private clinics—if you can afford them—have waitlists. Some women report it taking 3–6 months just to get started. Others get sent home with vague advice and no follow-up date in sight.

Meanwhile, medication must often be purchased from specific pharmacies, forms must be hand-signed (dear France, there exists this thing called DocuSign), copied, faxed (yes, really), and re-approved by hospital admin staff who haven’t updated their software since floppy discs.

So while it’s technically “freezing made legal,” in practice it’s more like “freezing, if you have the patience of a saint and the stamina of a triathlete.”

Turns out, the fastest way for French women to freeze eggs … is to leave France.

Unsurprisingly, many women aren’t playing this game. They’re off to Spain, Belgium, even the UK (yes, the overpriced UK!) just to avoid the red tape.

The irony? While some UK women are peeking at Paris for cheaper options, French women are looking at us because the system—flawed as it is—at least responds to emails and doesn't make you wait until menopause.

Clinics in Spain, particularly in Barcelona and Valencia, have become a second home for Parisian women who just want efficiency, clarity, and actual appointment slots.

Should UK women go to Paris to freeze their eggs?

Let’s put it this way: unless you speak French, enjoy paperwork, and have a year to burn—it’s a no from us.

Paris is beautiful, yes. But its fertility infrastructure is running on dial-up. And the vibe? Less “modern woman in charge of her future,” more “please wait while the state evaluates your worthiness.”

You deserve better than long queues, outdated paperwork, and “maybe next month” phone calls.

And if you’re thinking of doing this in France to save money, remember: time is also a cost.

The real issue: who gets to say oui

This is bigger than logistics. It’s about power. The French state has long acted as the final arbiter of women’s reproductive timelines. Want to preserve your fertility because the dating pool is a disaster? Sorry, come back when you’ve got cancer.

Egg freezing isn’t some new-age luxury. It’s practical, protective, and—for many—profoundly necessary. The fact that it was denied for so long because it wasn’t “medical enough” speaks volumes.

It says: we don’t trust women. We don’t trust them to know what they want. We don’t trust them to plan ahead. And we definitely don’t trust them to make major life decisions without the moral blessing of the state.

Not all doom: feminist fire is spreading

Thankfully, women in France are not taking this quietly. Groups like Collectif BAMP! are advocating loudly (and fabulously) for more freedom, more access, and fewer hoops. They’re calling out the hypocrisy, the delays, and the maddening silence around it all.

There’s also Les Glorieuses, a feminist media platform with a monthly newsletter that’s brought reproductive rights—and the system’s many absurdities—into sharper focus for a new generation.

Other organisations, like Osez le Féminisme!, have also begun to rally around reproductive autonomy as part of broader campaigns for body sovereignty and anti-patriarchal healthcare reform.

Activist voices are growing louder. Petitions have circulated, rallies have happened, and articles in major outlets are finally catching on. French women are tired of whispering about fertility in wine bars. They want facts. They want access. They want choice.

And they’re not waiting for the government to catch up.

Final Thoughts: Keep the fromage, leave the forms.

Egg freezing in Paris sounds cinematic. But the reality is bureaucracy in a beret. Until the system matches the rhetoric, it’s more fantasy than feminist victory.

If you’re in the UK, weigh your options. Don’t fall for the Eiffel Tower illusion—France may have mastered the art of erect monuments to male power, but it’s still fumbling when it comes to women’s fertility. Paris might be perfect for a long weekend, but when it comes to your eggs? You deserve more than a maybe and a phallic symbol in the skyline.

We deserve healthcare systems that treat us like grown women, not naughty schoolgirls asking for too much.

Spill the thé. Have you tried to freeze your eggs in France or gotten the bureaucratic runaround? DM us @klia_london or email hello@klialondon.com. Let’s rewrite the narrative—preferably with receipts.

Fertility, But Make It French and Maddening