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The Hour of Absinthe: A Cultural History of France’s Most Notorious Drink – A Conversation with Nina Studer

Diana Abbani in Conversation with Nina Studer

A woman with long wavy hair playing a lute, sitting on the ground.
“Scènes et types. Houria jouant El Kouitra”: French postcard from 1919 showing an Algerian woman, Houria, playing the kwitra (Algerian lute), with a bottle of absinthe, an absinthe glass, and a knocked-over empty bottle of alcohol in front of her. Image from the private collection of Nina S. Studer.

Diana Abbani (DA): In your book The Hour of Absinthe: A Cultural History of France’s Most Notorious Drink, you explore the history of absinthe through the lenses of cultural, social, and colonial history. What drew you to this subject, and how did your personal or academic background shape your approach?

Nina Studer (NS): While I have been working on absinthe for years now, I have been fascinated by its scandalous and glamorous history and the many myths associated with it for much longer, as it was regularly portrayed in paintings, novels and movies I enjoyed.

While doing research for my Ph.D. thesis on French colonial psychiatry in North Africa, however, I very regularly came across mentions of absinthe and absinthism in Algeria in 19th century medical and psychiatric sources that I could not quite understand or place. What did Algeria – and French imperialism – have to do with this quintessentially Swiss/French drink? Why was the “Green Fairy” viewed as particularly dangerous in France’s colonies? Why did some 19th century sources frame Algeria as the center of absinthe consumption or even as the origin of the drink, when the secondary literature presented absinthe drinking as mainly a Parisian – bourgeois or artistic – experience?

Reading the existing secondary literature on absinthe did not help with these questions. I realized that the existing publications repeated the same phrasings and ideas about absinthe in North Africa – a narrative of French soldiers having been provided with absinthe rations during the military conquest of Algeria and bringing their preference back to France with them – without giving further context and without questioning their information. My choice of absinthe as a topic of research thus stemmed from the conviction that there were neglected parts of the imperial history of the drink that had to be taken into account when studying France’s 19th century history.

Personally, I view absinthe as a lens that allows me to look at much wider questions – connected to gender, race, class and more – from a new perspective. In this, I am led by the question how a consumption shared between various groups – men, women and children, bourgeoisie, artists and working classes, colonizers and colonized – could be viewed and interpreted as having vastly different consequences, depending on both a person’s belonging to one of these groups and to behaviors associated to these groups.

DA: Your book begins by exploring the myths surrounding absinthe’s origins. How did these myths, such as the belief in its hallucinogenic effects, shape its cultural and historical perception from the beginning?

NS: Up until the brutal military conquest of the Algerian coast after 1830, absinthe had been a comparatively insignificant drink in Europe: A regional drink, consumed both in Francophone Switzerland and the area around Pontarlier in France, but not really anywhere else. Yet, by the mid-19th century, once it had gained a certain popularity, absinthe started to be singled out as a unique and mythical drink: A drink with a unique and mythical origin story on the one hand, and a drink with unique and mythical properties on the other.

Throughout the drink’s history, this uniqueness was upheld by both proponents and opponents of the drink. The rather ambiguous origin story of the drink – said to have been either invented by local women in the Val-de-Travers in Switzerland or by a French male doctor in exile in this same area – allowed for Swiss and French voices to either claim absinthe as their own or to decry it as a foreign product, depending on an author’s point of view.

Yet the cultural perception of the drink was even more strongly shaped by the idea that it possessed certain special properties. For those who liked absinthe – be it producers or consumers – it was medicinal, cleaned dirty water and provided energy and inspiration unlike any other drink. In this context, absinthe was celebrated as the Green Fairy or the Green Muse that stimulated the creativity of French painters and poets and helped them in creating new works of art. For those who openly advocated against the drink, however, absinthe was uniquely dangerous, causing a wide variety of physical issues, nightmares and hallucinations, putting the health of the offspring of consumers in danger and making drinkers go “mad”, dangerous or both. Both sides, so to speak, upheld some of the myths surrounding the drink, with myths thus playing a role in both the drinks popularity and its eventual demonization and downfall.

DA: Can you tell us about the key archival materials you worked with during your research? How did these sources help you uncover the cultural myths and historical significance of absinthe?

NS: Even though there are already a few books on the history of absinthe, astonishingly little historical research has been conducted on the drink, by which I mean to say, simply, that a lot remains to be done. Consequently, I have decided to focus solely on public discourses around the drink. I have then based The Hour of Absinthe on a wide variety of sources, including visual sources – ranging from postcards to various forms of advertising – as these images often allow insights into how stereotypical absinthe drinkers were perceived. This imagery, for example, portrayed female absinthe consumption in a very particular way and often included a clearly imperial vocabulary, so to speak.

As a medical historian of empire, my written sources consisted mostly of publications by doctors. These medical experts wrote either specifically about the actions of absinthe or about wider medical issues in France’s colonies, discussing absinthe as just one of the many problems commonly encountered there. During the absinthe panics of the late 19th century, many French doctors discussed the dangers of the drink at length and warned the public about “absinthism” and the rage and violence associated with this diagnosis. I have also placed a particular focus on so-called hygiene handbooks, composed by French doctors for the specific use of French settlers in the colonies and covering – allegedly – every aspect of life there, as they regularly presented the use of absinthe in hot climates in a surprisingly positive way.

I have consciously complemented these visual and medical sources by articles published in the international press of the late 19th/early 20th century. I was mainly interested in how narratives in medical publications were taken up in the press (and vice versa!), as well as in tracing the rise and fall of certain quasi-medical terminology – such as, for example, absinthe being the “opium of the West”. This analysis of the press also allowed me to include, for example, letters to the editors from several French settlers in Algeria, and thus to widen the discourse on the drink to present more than just clear binaries of enthusiasts and opponents.

A fountain-shaped statue with groups of men of different nations drinking absinthe together.  
“The Future Monument of Peace”: Advert for Absinthe Rivoire created in 1905 by the artist Marcellin Auzolle. It depicts a fountain-shaped statue with groups of men of different nations drinking absinthe together. Image courtesy of the Bibliothèque nationale de France, via Gallica: gallica.bnf.fr [03.07.2025].

DA: Absinthe’s connection to French colonialism, particularly in Algeria, is a key aspect of your book. How did absinthe become both a symbol of colonial triumph and a source of anxiety within the colonial project?

NS: From the very beginning of France’s so-called second colonial empire, i.e. the brutal military conquest of the Algerian coast that started in 1830, absinthe was said to have a special connection with imperial Frenchness. Up to now, the secondary literature explained this interlinking of France’s colonial expansion and absinthe by suggesting that the French army distributed absinthe rations to its soldiers in Algeria between 1830 and 1847, i.e. between the first appearance of French soldiers on the Algerian coast and the capitulation of Abd-el-Kader, the leader of the Algerian resistance. Looking into it, however, I have found no sign of these alleged rations, with the sources instead showing proof of absinthe bans in the French army in Algeria in the 1840s and 1850s, the earliest of which predated France’s 1914/1915 ban of absinthe by 70 years!

It seems however true that the French soldiers in Algeria did start to drink absinthe in the 1830s, probably as a form of self-medication against tropical diseases and unclean water as well as the heat and heimweh (homesickness) they suffered from and because they enjoyed the taste! French settlers in Algeria similarly took to drinking absinthe for the same reasons. Returned to France – after having emerged ‘victorious’ from the colonial clashes in Algeria – these French soldiers continued to drink absinthe, openly and publicly. The French bourgeoisie copied their behavior, which kickstarted absinthe’s spectacular popularity in France. The absinthe bans in the French army of the 1840s and 1850s, however, show that it was not only the popularity of absinthe that was linked to imperialism. These earliest bans were explained through the overconsumption of absinthe in the French army, which led to physical and mental issues and to the repatriation of these men. Given the popularity of absinthe amongst French soldiers, this was a source of anxiety for the colonial administration, worrying that soldiers and settlers under the influence of absinthe were not able – physically or mentally – to fulfil France’s colonial mission.

DA: During its golden age, absinthe played a central role in French café culture, particularly during ‘l’heure verte.’ What role did this ritualized consumption play in shaping sociability and cultural identity in urban France?

NS: Absinthe was, from the moment these French soldiers returned to France from Algeria, a publicly consumed drink. It was commonly drunk in the late afternoons on the terraces of cafés, which quickly became a shared moment of leisure and joy. While they drank their glass of absinthe, men met friends and acquaintances, gossiped, flirted and people-watched. Once the French bourgeoisie started to drink absinthe, this consumption quickly became ritualized, which only intensified throughout the rest of the 19th century: At the height of its popularity, consumers required certain tools and instruments – water carafes, absinthe spoons for the sugar, syrups and other spirits – as well as expert knowledge and time to properly celebrate the ‘l’heure verte’, as preparing the perfect glass of absinthe was both complicated and time-intensive. In addition to this, it was viewed as vulgar to drink more than one glass.

For various reasons, the consumption of absinthe soon spread to the working classes in France and France’s colonial empire. While members of the French bourgeoisie interpreted this as the working classes badly copying the behavior of their ‘betters’, it was really due to absinthe becoming more affordable and to workers having a bit more money and time at their disposal. This was a new development. While less ritualistic than the consumption of the bourgeoisie – often drunk neat and not necessarily restricted to one glass only, for example – absinthe took a similar role in the lives of many working-class people: It was a moment of relaxation during which people could come together after work, enjoy each other’s company and leave the stresses of life behind for a bit.

For many non-French journalists and observers, this habit of the whole nation meeting at 5pm to drink absinthe and other apéritifs out in the open in the many cafés of France and France’s colonies seemed extraordinary. For them, this ritualistic consumption of absinthe was quintessentially French and they recommended it to tourists eager to experience a piece of Frenchness.

DA: Your book highlights how absinthe was framed as especially dangerous for women, linking its consumption to fears of moral and racial degeneration. What do you think made absinthe such a focal point for these gendered and racialized anxieties?

NS: When men from the French bourgeoisie consumed absinthe, the drink was believed to be harmless, due to these men presenting themselves as rational and moderate. Other groups – ranging from the French working classes to the local populations in France’s various colonies – however, were understood as lacking or even as being incapable of moderation, which, in turn, made their consumption deeply problematic. One of these groups were women who started to drink absinthe from the mid-19th century onward. Whereas the consumption of certain women from the bourgeoisie was acceptable, as long as they kept to the many established rules of absinthe drinking, most women’s taste for absinthe was framed as either part of the wider women’s rights movement – and thus bad – or as defined by irrationality and immoderation.

Some of these absinthe drinking women were depicted – in words and images – as intrinsically masculinized: Absinthe turned into a symbol of the so-called “new woman”, who campaigned for women’s rights and the training of women in so-called male professions, wore trousers and enjoyed the freedom of movement afforded to them by the bicycle. Many 19th century male authors presented these women as deeply ridiculous and their consumption of absinthe was used as a shortcut for this sentiment. The larger issue with women’s absinthe consumption, however, was believed to be their alleged lack of rationality and moderation: Women were, for example, depicted as drinking absinthe neat due to their corsets not allowing them to swallow water and as incapable of only drinking one glass. This, in turn, was believed to have consequences on the health of their children, a connotation that cannot be found, to the same extent, in descriptions of men’s excessive absinthe consumption. The children of absinthe drinking mothers were believed to be neglected, introduced to the drink at an early age and suffering from physical and mental issues due to the consumption of alcohol of their mothers and, to a lesser degree, their fathers before conception. In conclusion, it was believed that absinthe drinking women willingly contributed to the degeneration of their children, their nation and the white race.

DA: Through absinthe’s journey, your book reflects on colonial modernity, where progress, discipline, and degeneration intersected. How does absinthe help us understand the contradictions of colonial modernity, and what larger lessons do you think it offers about the interplay of power, identity, and control?

NS: Great question! As mentioned above, absinthe is, for me, a lens, which allows me to look at the many levels of inequalities that have always informed my research: Racial inequalities, gender inequalities, class inequalities and more. In Algeria, how absinthe was judged really depended on who consumed it. If it was consumed by the (French male) elites, it was a harmless, hygienic and modern drink, yet if people from other groups drank it, it became hazardous: These other groups included other European men (such as Spaniards and the Maltese), women, the working classes and the colonized. Many of the discourses about absinthe are composed from the point of view of the educated urban elites – to which my sources, colonial doctors, clearly belonged. These elites simply rejected other groups impinging on their habits, which, they believed, made their habits less respectable. Yet on a deeper level, this looking down upon the absinthe consumption of non-elites was a rejection of these other populations as a whole; populations whose situations had significantly altered thanks to the social and industrial changes of the 19th century. Demonizing their drinking habits and blaming them for the alleged degeneration of France, was a means of controlling these populations.

However, while the absinthe consumption of all non-elites came to eventually be depicted as problematic and dangerous by these French, educated, urban men, there were variations in condemnation: The consumption of women belonging to the elites, for example, was seen to be less harmful than that of working-class women – who were decried, as mentioned above, as bad mothers and willing instruments of degeneration – and the absinthe drinking of all groups was framed as being less dangerous than that of the colonized. Analyzing these variations allows us to better understand the make-up, functioning and power structures of colonial societies. As with every subject, it is important to ask who is doing the judging and who is being judged, and to remember that the judgements often reveal more about those who judge than about those who are judged.

DA: What do you hope readers will take away from The Hour of Absinthe? Are there particular themes or questions you’d like them to reflect on, and could you recommend further readings for those interested in exploring similar topics

NS: The most important result of the research I have conducted for The Hour of Absinthe is that the colonial history of substances, consumption habits and everyday traditions, especially from the 19th century, must be included in studies. Treating substances, habits and traditions as purely metropolitan often leaves us unable to fully explain their complex histories, especially in the context of how closely interlinked different identities were with these various substances. My personal research has led me to the conviction that the demonization of absinthe cannot be understood if detached from the drink’s colonial history, because the drink was intimately linked to French settler identity, concerns about losing the colony and fears about absinthe causing uncontrollable violence amongst the colonized populations. While The Hour of Absinthe is a case study of just one specific drink, similar processes – of exclusion, sexualisation, degeneration and more – can be observed in the colonial history of other substances, ranging from spices to drugs and other alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

The last 15 years have fortunately seen an increase in both general interest and in publications focusing on exactly these questions. Anglophone readers interested in the colonial history of alcohol and drugs should read, amongst others, Omar Foda’s 2019 book Egypt’s Beer: Stella, Identity, and the Modern State, David Guba’s 2020 book Taming Cannabis: Drugs and Empire in Nineteenth-Century France (published, like mine, as part of the Intoxicating Histories series by McGill-Queen’s University Press), Diana S. Kim’s 2020 book Empires of Vice: The Rise of Opium Prohibition across Southeast Asia and Owen White’s 2021 book The Blood of the Colony: Wine and the Rise and Fall of French Algeria. If readers prefer edited volumes, I would recommend Waltraud Ernst and Thomas Müller’s 2022 book Alcohol, Psychiatry and Society: Comparative and Transnational Perspectives, c. 1700–1990s – and not just because I have contributed a chapter to it! – and Paul Gootenberg’s 2022 The Oxford Handbook of Global Drug History.


About the Authors

Nina S. Studer is a historian and Arabist with a strong focus on gender and the history of medicine in the colonial Maghreb. Her Ph.D. thesis, which she has written at the Universities of Zürich and Oxford on descriptions of Muslim North African women by French colonial psychiatrists, was published as a monograph under the title The Hidden Patients: North African Women in French Colonial Psychiatry in 2016. She is currently a researcher at the Institut Éthique Histoire Humanités at the University of Geneva, where she is part of Dr. Francesca Arena’s SNSF-CMCSS project investigating the medical history of wet dreams from the 18th century to today. She has written a series of peer-reviewed articles and chapters on different aspects of France’s colonial presence in North Africa, many of them focusing on drinking habits, and has taught at the Universities of Zürich, Bern, Heidelberg, Hamburg and Basel.

Diana Abbani received her PhD in Arabic Studies from Sorbonne University with a dissertation entitled “Music and Society in Beirut during the Nahḍa Period”. She holds an MA in History from Sorbonne University and an MA in Political Science from Saint Denis University, Paris. Her work focuses mainly on the social and cultural life in the Levant, particularly on Beirut, at the turn of the 20th century. In her dissertation, she draws a social and cultural history of Beirut’s musical scene in the first quarter of the twentieth century. She offers a historical rethinking of the cultural and musical history of Beirut by looking at the relation between music, technology and society through the analysis of a set of primary sources. During the academic years 2018/19 and 2019/20, Diana was a Fellow of Europe in the Middle East – the Middle East in Europe (EUME), a research program of the Berlin-based Forum Transregionale Studien, and associated with the Friedrich Schlegel Graduate School of Literary Studies at Freie Universität Berlin. She is the Science Communication Coordinator for the Merian Center for Advanced Study in the Maghreb (MECAM) at the Forum Transregionale Studien.


Citation: Diana Abbani and Nina Studer, The Hour of Absinthe: A Cultural History of France’s Most Notorious Drink – A Conversation with Nina Studer, in: TRAFO – Blog for Transregional Research, 07.08.2025, https://trafo.hypotheses.org/60708


OpenEdition suggests that you cite this post as follows:
Forum Transregionale Studien (August 7, 2025). The Hour of Absinthe: A Cultural History of France’s Most Notorious Drink – A Conversation with Nina Studer. TRAFO – Blog for Transregional Research. Retrieved November 10, 2025 from https://doi.org/10.58079/14gps


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The Berlin-based Forum Transregionale Studien promotes the internationalization of research in the humanities and social sciences. It provides scope for collaboration among researchers with different regional and disciplinary perspectives and appoints researchers from all over the world as Fellows. More...

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