The best part about the weather heating up is the complete shedding of all sartorial grey. I have recently taken a liking to the 86 bus, which crosses smack dab in the middle of Paris. It keeps me more in tune with the colors and dynamics of the city, unlike the zombie slog fest of the Metro. I can attest that lIterally overnight, the boots and parkas transformed into vivid color, legs, and fluid trails of fabric. It’s not even just the girls with their sheer tops and microshorts, even the chic little old ladies are sporting a little shoulder. Although I was scolded at an apero last weekend for sporting bare legs (“T’as pas froid? T’es sûre?”), Paris has officially begun its season of pleasantry. And it’s just one big communal sigh of relief.