For me, Fall doesn’t officially arrive in Paris until throngs of style mavens descend upon the capital for Fashion Week. Once the fanfare and celebrity sightings subside, the leaves transmute into their most beautiful state – a spectrum of orange, yellow and deep red that crunch beneath our feet as we walk. The colors are never quite as vibrant as in the heart of the Fôret de Fontainebleau or across New England but does a fine job of ushering us softly into a crisper, grayer season. The scene has been mild but no less magical.