After another huge day on foot, one thing became obvious to me, and it had nothing to do with walking. I've decided that winter is a time you could visit Paris colourblind and it probably wouldn't matter. The clothes, the streets, trees and garders, statues - thye're all grey or various shades thereof.
In terms of fashion, Collette and I have decided the reason French men dress so well is they only have to match grey with black, which isn't too difficult. That, and they wear scarves. And coats. Scarves and coats are good (not unlike my Men Look Better In Suits Theory).
Even the women, whom you would assume had some sense of creativity, stick to muted tones and rarely venture to the Land of Colour. I felt a little risque pulling on my red coat this morning - but imagine if I'd bought the yellow one I saw at ZARA - they'd have thought I was there to put our a fire or direct traffic.
On the subject of clothing still, as always, it is the children who are worst affected. They poor things are subjected to so many layers of puff they begin to look less like children and more like marshmallows with heads, ready to bounce off the nearest surface in a cloud of feather and/or polyester stuffing. Even the dogs wear coats...
On a far more upbeat note however, there was a welcome contrast this morning in the form of white snow - my first glimpse of the stuff but alas, it fell overnight and was already melting away in the rain this morning.
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