The Perfection Of Imperfection

There’s a particular kind of comedy in watching an American adjust to European service culture.

I’m sitting in a bustling café in Portugal with my American friend, and I can feel the bewilderment radiating from her as we wait (and wait) for the waiter to take our order. She’s visibly irritated. I, on the other hand—fluent in both the perfection of American service and the laissez-faire charm of European hospitality—lean back with the detached amusement of an anthropologist.

Having lived in the US, Canada, and now Europe, I’ve come to appreciate the nuance behind what first appears as a nuisance. Yes, European service is often imperfect, sometimes even borderline rude. But let’s be honest: would the romance of Paris or the rustic joy of Italy exist without their charming chaos?

I think not.

What we often call imperfection is, in fact, a brutal and beautiful prioritisation of values.

The Spanish take siestas because they value rest. The Italians have mastered wine and style, but God help you if you need a train to run on time. The French? Patchy service, divine food. Beneath it all is a shared cultural agreement: life is for living. Community, joy, family, craftsmanship, and balance take precedence. These are the very values that draw exhausted Americans across the ocean every summer in search of something they can’t quite name.

Of course, I can appreciate the hyper-efficiency of American service. A smile and a glass of water is the minimum, often accompanied by gracious attention. But it’s also a performance—with a dark undercurrent. Many servers are underpaid and overworked. That perfect smile is often held in place by the knowledge that your tip might be the only thing standing between them and rent.

Now, when I’m in Europe and the waiter isn’t behaving like his livelihood depends on me? I find it oddly comforting. Because it doesn’t.

After moving to Lisbon—a city now swelling with American expats searching for slowness—my sister Michela often remarks how many of them complain about the very charm that brought them here. Yes, Portugal has its flaws. But behind its gentle rhythm lies a set of values that have created space for decriminalised drugs, safer communities, and an artist-friendly culture. You don’t get that kind of progressive soul without giving up a bit of efficiency.

So, what’s the takeaway? Pick your imperfections—but be intentional. Make sure what is perfect in your life aligns with what truly matters to you.

The same goes for how we treat ourselves. We apply relentless pressure to perform flawlessly in every corner of life—career, relationships, parenting, self-improvement. It’s not sustainable. It’s certainly not joyful. Something has to give.

And maybe that something is the illusion of perfection.

Perhaps we all need a bit more of the European mindset. Choose what you want to be great at—being a present parent, making art, cultivating joy. And let the rest be consciously, delightfully imperfect. Because imperfection, when chosen with intention, might just be the most perfect thing of all.

Written by Lois Aymes Wilson