In Paris, Montmartre faces rampant tourist pressure: "As residents, we feel like characters in an amusement park"

From the public bench in Place Dalida, behind the Sacré-Cœur, one can witness a curious scene at any time of day. Dozens of Spaniards, Indians, Chinese, and Americans line up to pose next to the singer's statue. And not just any old way: by holding her breasts. The gesture is incongruous, the faces are hilarious: caressing Dalida's breasts is said to bring good luck in love.

On Rue de l'Abreuvoir, the same queues of tourists form: this time, they're trying to get their picture taken in front of La Maison Rose, a café featured in the American series Emily in Paris . Further down, on Rue des Trois-Frères, another queue fills a narrow sidewalk: it's the Photomaton Vintage, which is a hit on social media.

Welcome to photogenic Montmartre, with its hidden gardens, windmills, vineyards, funicular, street painters... and millions of visitors from all over the world. In this neighborhood where ice cream, crêpe, and mini-Eiffel Tower vendors flourish, even the traffic seems orchestrated by Disneyland: sidecars, 2CVs, Méharis, and tuk-tuks crisscross the Butte for a few dozen euros per person, passing little tourist trains—there are five of them.

But, for several months, a breach has cracked this magical setting. In this neighborhood where 27,000 people live, banners have appeared in the windows: "Forgotten residents!" , "Let the Montmartre residents live!" , "Behind these facades there are people." But also, on school buildings: "No to the closure of classes!" Signs announcing the pedestrianization of certain streets are tagged with "Stop." In a few months, overtourism in Montmartre has become a political issue that has been taken up by residents' associations, shopkeepers, and elected officials of all stripes.

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