Fed up with officialdom and regulation at home, thousands of entrepreneurs are abandoning France for lucrative London

By JAMES KANTER /LONDON

n just 15 months, between July 1996 and October 1997, Frenchman Jean-Christophe Novelli opened four highly acclaimed restaurants in London and established a culinary empire worth an estimated $13 million. With a book deal and television appearances under his belt, he's Britain's hottest celebrity chef. But on the other side of the English Channel, his first project on his native soil has fallen five months behind schedule. Worst of all, he didn't even open up in time to mark his 37th birthday earlier this year.

Tossing his hands in the air over the pettiness of French officialdom, Novelli says authorities in Normandy blocked his project in February because he neglected to tell them what color he would paint the kitchen. "In fact, you have got to know a lot of things," he laments about starting a business in France. "There are so many places and offices you have to go, so many different types of paper. It's crazy."

These days, Novelli can find plenty of sympathy in London. The British capital is teeming with French economic migrants. Some have fled France's depressed job market and one of the highest unemployment rates among the world's major economies. Others have left because they are demoralized by red tape, bureaucracy, high taxes and legislation which will cut the French workweek from 39 hours to 35. Almost all are sick of pervasive stagnation at home, and feel it's time to swap France's generous social benefits for a chance at making real money in Britain.

Leading the rush are les Yuppies, bankers and entrepreneurs who are packing their bags and making for the fast track. Many have seen banks and financial service industries shutter their Paris offices, and are buying one-way tickets north on the Eurostar. The French consulate in London estimates the number of French living and working in the capital at 100,000, with at least 70,000 more scattered across the rest of the U.K.

Claire Bijon, a French lawyer with the City firm Allen & Overy, believes that many of her compatriots aim to stay for good, even if it means yielding to British habits and values. "The current immigrants read the Guardian every day and Le Monde once every two weeks," she says, underlining the newcomers' determination to integrate into the cultural life of a country still derided by many French as the abode of les rosbifs.

Bijon has been deluged with requests from young French professionals seeking advice before relocating to London. Most are high-flying bankers and traders who value quality of life. But their worries are not about Britain's formerly abysmal reputation for cuisine or the legendary frostiness of the English. Most agree that London's booming restaurant scene is the envy of the world, and that a measure of British reserve is preferable to French gloom and cynicism. Instead, would-be emigres to Britain fret about job security in a system more laissez-faire than anything French conservatives can dream of foisting on France. "They are especially worried about employment protection, which is very light in Britain," explains Bijon. "They know it's much easier to be fired here."

But many French are willing to take the risk. Seasoned professionals delight in the City's hefty end-of-year bonuses while younger graduates are drawn to management trainee schemes, phased out in Paris but still on offer in London's banks and financial services sector. For employers, the fiscal benefits of cross-Channel relocation--especially lower rates of tax paid on social security--have been well publicized in France. Restaurateur Novelli, who left France at 22 feeling "finished," recently found himself arguing the merits of Britain's brand of liberal capitalism in front of millions of French television viewers. "They look to me as an example," he says.

For those starting a business in the U.K., loans with lower deposit requirements are easier to secure than in France. In addition, annual corporation tax is more than 10% lower, and as for Britain's labor costs, Novelli puts it this way: For every 10 people he would employ in France, he can afford to hire an additional five in Britain. For him, such simple arithmetic helps explain why restaurants in London can provide efficient service as well as innovative, fresh food--and why Paris has lost its reputation as the world's culinary capital.

Benoit Jamme, business manager of M-SAT, a French company that mass markets satellite photographs, says Britain's milder tax regimes offer compelling reasons to conduct sales from a U.K. location. He has chosen High Wycombe, a town 40 minutes by car from London, from where he networks with British magazines and newspapers to sell M-SAT's range of software and novelty maps. The move has been a success, and British regulations exempting maps from vat helped push Jamme's turnover to nearly $980,000 last year. "Business people regard England as a more interesting country," says Jamme. "Our boss is fed up in France paying so many taxes to employ people and so many taxes at the end of the year." Jamme says discussions are underway to move M-SAT's headquarters from Clermont Ferrand, the industrial capital of central France, to Britain in order to escape the onerous costs of doing business at home.

Like Novelli, Jamme will not be returning to France for good. "My roots are French but my tree is British," confesses Novelli. While Jamme is impressed by Tony Blair's gift for capturing the political center, Novelli admires Margaret Thatcher's union-busting revolution and the gumption of the British. "In France, you've got people who don't want to be rich, people who don't want to succeed," he says.

But Jamme remains aware of how France's comprehensive social benefits, particularly those designed to help young families, can tempt many to stay. With his wife having just given birth to their first child, Jamme acknowledges that he would prefer to be in France over the next few months. There, his wife would be entitled to up to four months' maternity leave at full salary, and more children would bring in extra subsidies. In Britain, she will receive 90% of her salary for six weeks but only $91 per week over the following three months.

Indeed, a move across the Channel is not for the financially faint-hearted. London is an expensive city and social benefits in Britain tend to be more meagre across the board. Welfare checks buy less and entitlement is comparatively restrictive. Le Monde, a leading French daily, warned its readers in April that they are unlikely to find a better standard of living in London unless they earn over $160,000 a year, and are prepared to shell out for private schools and private health insurance.

While that may be far-fetched, the French who succeed in improving their lot in Britain are generally fluent in English, brandishing a clutch of law or business diplomas, and highly motivated. Some have seized opportunities in Britain's private sector where they have found a dynamism they say is lacking in France. Regis Cochefert, a graduate of France's elite Institute for Political Science, was lured to stay in Britain by the Association for Business Sponsorship of the Arts (ABSA), where he was membership and research manager from 1993 to 1995. He has gone on to co-found the French Theatre Season in London and helps run England's Aldeburgh Festival of music.

At ABSA, Cochefert helped keep track of the roughly $160 million now flowing annually from British industry into the hands of artists or to arts institutions, like the National Theatre. Figures from Admical, France's nearest equivalent to absa, show that business sponsorship of the arts in France is outpacing sponsorship in Britain. But Cochefert insists that fundamental differences remain. Artists in Britain, he says, have entered into a partnership with business in which market forces, rather than the aesthetic whims of patrons, determine where the money goes: "Unlike in France, the British arts sponsor is looking at a hard-nosed commercial venture. There is a carefully calculated exchange, and that exchange is expected to raise the profile and prestige of the business involved."

But London can be hell for those without the income to explore cool Britannia. Secretaries are poorly paid compared with their counterparts in Paris, and the high price of public transport can make commuting prohibitively expensive. "The problem, I think, is at the lower end of the spectrum," says Cochefert. "If you are a shop person at Harrods working for Guerlain, you are paid $14,670 a year, with which it is very difficult to live in London because your monthly travel pass, at $104, costs too much."

Novelli also cautions those who think that making it big in Britain is easy, and he dismisses many would-be emigres as estivants, or summer visitors. "One thing is sure," he says. "I didn't come here as a tourist. I decided to change my life." It's a life that has allowed Novelli to escape French culinary tradition. Frogs' legs and snails aren't found on his menus. "I know I should like them, but honestly those dishes feel like you're chewing your ears!" he exclaims. Yet he is a reluctant patriot and devoted to the French World Cup squad. There's just one thing he can't understand about the squad's presence at the 1998 final in Paris: How did such a large group of Frenchmen manage to overcome a national penchant for petty disputes long enough to keep team spirits riding so high?