Spring always seems to arrive in Paris overnight. One day, your fingers are shivering as you button up your coat, and the next morning you find yourself kicking off your boots and slipping your bare feet into a pair of flats.
Of course, some people just grin and bear the heat. The French seem to have a disrobing angst when it comes to winter coats and scarves. "En avril, ne vous découvrez pas d'un fil ; en mai, faites ce qui vous plaît," the saying goes. Heaven only knows what would happen if you start showing some skin in March!
Audrey Hepburn as Ariane Chavasse. [Online image] 1957.
Once February approaches, Paris becomes a little lighter. You can feel the woolly layers of winter lifting as afternoons stretch their arms a little wider to let you in.
Spring always seems to arrive in Paris overnight. One day, your fingers are shivering as you button up your coat, and the next morning you find yourself kicking off your boots and slipping your bare feet into a pair of flats.
Once January's gloomy page turns, revealing February's red lace and snow flurries, Paris breathes a sigh of relief. Or, at least, I do! As carefree spring fashions finally manage to elbow their way to the front of window displays and lucky schoolchildren bundle up for Alpine fun, the city seems to revel in its extra hours of light. It's time for crêpes and cider, fondue and mulled wine, and strawberries and champagne. New Year's resolutions, beware! It's time to live a little.