I’m finding myself unsure how to approach this current heatwave phenomenon. We’ve all heard the phrase ‘it always rains in England’ – but when it’s 35 degrees Celsius and 9:30pm I find it a little hard to appreciate the weather.

The English have this condition where they find themselves pasty white and stark naked in public places the moment the sun comes out, resulting in varying shades of red strolling the streets the next day.

My response to the heat wave consists of baggy shirts. It’s been this way since Greece. Any baggy shirt I find, I consequently buy in the hope that I won’t end up looking like my British counterparts. Baggy shirts are groovy, versatile, and look cute on anyone and everyone. My suitcase is currently a glorious 40kg of baggy shirts.

The Parisian heats also appreciated my baggy shirts. When you’re day drunk at 8pm and strolling the streets in a foreign country where you are blissfully (and semi-ignorantly) unaware of the language, you learn to appreciate the little things. If you know me, you know I am a slob. Yet my baggy shirts tolerated the multitudes of coffee I managed to empty over myself. The white jeans however, did not. We don’t talk about the white jeans.

If you’re heading out this way any time soon, all you need is baggy shirts. Really. Fill the suitcase with baggy shirts. A couple of pairs of shoes, denim cutoffs, and baggy shirts. And maybe a coffee to spill – it’s all you need

While trying to avoid sounding like I spend my time shopping at thrift stores and grooming my beard, the coffee in Paris is out of this world. If I had a million lifetimes, I would spend every one of those strolling between cafes in the backstreets of Paris. I’m an incurable romantic who needs to get a clue. My favourite place I encountered (Vogue City Guides led me on many adventures) was the Broken Arm. A small bespoke (is bespoke the right word) cafe with satisfying coffee and tempting cakes – it’s x factor is the adjoining store selling equally satisfying and tempting garments. Oui oui Paris.

Yes, I always knew I would fall in love with the city; I just never accounted for quite how much. The moments I spend wandering, experiencing, and lying in the hotel bath with a bottle of rose and chocolate. Paris is really something, honest.

Photo courtesy of Retail Design Blog.

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