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…
