Is 55°F? Not usually, but we’ve been blessed (and sunkissed) by the météo-gods with some abnormally mild November temperatures. This time last year in Paris, the bone-aching cold had already settled in for the season. The leaves crunched beneath our feet, the sky was a permanent shade of monotonous and the heat in our apartment was already switched on, full blast.

Paris’s breathtaking sunsets that transition us nicely into winter’s long, evening hours are eclipsed by thick, oppressive clouds that make leaving the house not just challenging but downright painful. People tend to forget that Paris, like any other highly-visited and attractive city, can lose its otherwise pristine luster when the clouds roll in. Rain and cold in Paris might be better than in most parts of the world but when it paints your everyday, it wears on you.

Fortunately for me and a few of my friends who arrived last week, armed with puffer jackets and long underwear, the air has been kind. So kind, in fact, that the streets were filled with jacketless (but not scarfless, let’s not forget who we’re talking about here. The French equate exposed necklines with instant illness) flâneurs, terrace-goers and window shoppers.

Not just convenient for me and my friends but for Beaujolais Nouveau enthusiasts who celebrated in the streets, in wine bars and wine shops, many of which were offering free tastings throughout the weekend.

Despite this dose of spring (or early fall), we all know what’s ahead. We were boasting record temperatures in April then were slammed with a wash out in May. I guess it’s how you know you’ve become more French…. you whine that the unseasonable sunshine is a harbinger for a long and brutal winter season rather than simply bask in the ethereal, albeit fleeting, blue skies. Verre à moitié vide ou à moitié plein?

*Reasons to head to Paris in the winter, despite the cold (when it finally arrives)