How to Love Paris When It's Hot. Very, Very Hot.

Oh those 100 degree days in a city without much a.c.

Well hello! I’m so glad you’re here. One quick note: Spots are still available for THE BLUE HOUR PARIS writing workshop this September, more below. And, as always, if you’re not already a subscriber, you can sign up here for free:

Diving into the Canal Saint-Martin during a heatwave in Paris. July 2025

It hit 100 degrees Fahrenheit in Paris last week. (37.7 Celsius) And that’s why, on the morning of July 1st, I zig-zagged around my apartment in pajamas, crying:

“The sun’s coming up! Shut the windows! Close the curtains!”

When my visiting offspring woke, I hissed: “Nobody opens ANYTHING until after the sun sets.”

They had no idea what I was talking about.

The obvious question should have been: Mom, are you a vampire now? Like an elder Paris vampire? (It’s true, I have been wearing a lot of black drapey things, despite the temperatures.)

Mais non! Turning your apartment into a dark cave with fans is standard heatwave protocol in a city where few have air conditioning. The offspring were skeptical. However, these old two-foot-thick walls do keep the cool air inside for a bit. It is 10 or 20 degrees lower than outside, ie, almost bearable.

Many Parisians did not stay in their caves during the canicule (French for heatwave). They went to work, often heroically on bikes. Teens who’d finished their exams were jumping off bridges into the Canal St. Martin outside my apartment, and no one made a move to stop them, even though it’s an active waterway with tour boats huffing through all day. In a canicule, there are no rules.

Teens waiting for their turn to dive into the Canal Saint Martin, Paris. July 2025

Naturally, many of us did not heed the city’s admonition to avoid alcohol in the heat. By evening, cafe terraces were overflowing with apero drinkers, as were banks of the Canal and the Seine, where full picnics were happening. The vibe was: if we’re going to boil, we boil together. With wine. Besides, Aperol Spritz can be considered hydrating as they’re one-third sparkling water, right?

My real problem with heat waves is not just the heat. It’s that I have nothing to wear. I’ve never figured out how to dress well for summer. I don’t flow around gracefully, I sulk in black. To make matters worse, the amount of bare-skin real estate I’m comfortable exposing dwindles every year. Mostly, I just pretend summer weather isn’t happening. (Denial works for me in so many areas of life.) Apart from the occasional dress, I wear black jeans all year. It’s very Grandma Goth goes to Paris.

My stance was uncomfortable enough in Brooklyn, where people wear pajamas to go out to brunch. But here in Paris, it’s a calamity. I moved to a neighborhood where some of the loveliest creatures on the planet wear very little for most of the year. This means they have outfits that go seamlessly from daytime canicule to nightclub chic. I think they wake up, slip on a few scraps of elegant linen, put their hair up in the deliberately messy, yet perfect thing they do, and voila, they are ready for both a scorching heatwave and a role in an independent film. The other day, I saw a woman in a top that I am certain was made from the filmy covering you peel off the screen of a new laptop. She wore it with grace. Note: The nipple is not just free in Paris; it owns this town. (The key, apparently, is confidence. And, like everything else in life: accessories.)

Alas, ever-tinier clothing isn’t a heatwave solution for everyone, nor can we all swim in the Seine as a few brave Parisians did this week. Hence there are intense political arguments about how to cool Paris. These deadly, formerly once-in-a-decade heatwaves are now occurring three times as often in Europe. Everyone agrees that places like hospitals and nursing homes should have air conditioning (“la climatisation, or “la clime”), but after that, it’s a fight.

The far-right party of Marine Le Pen is proposing a grand city-wide air conditioning plan. The idea is: It’s hot, “allume la clime!” (Turn on the AC!) But it’s not so simple. Even if you could figure out how to install air conditioners efficiently with all these tall French windows, while also coping with a massive energy hit, there’s the question of what to do with the exhaust. If lots more ACs expel hot air into streets and courtyards, urban experts warn the city could warm by 1.5 degrees Celsius or more.

So officials are launching alternative measures starting with a vast tree-planting program, more green roofs, more insulation for buildings (so our apartment-caves stay cooler), as well as additional ways to use underground water as a building coolant. I don’t know if this means we’ll see turf growing on the zinc toits de Paris, but I am sure the clime wars will go on.

On the steamiest day of the heatwave, we went to a fancy movie theater (the Pathé Palace) to see 28 Years Later. (We chose to embrace the apocalypse theme of 2025.) The Palace was air conditioned, but I’m sure the temperature would have seemed laughably high to people from parts of the U.S. where there’s a level of cooling so extreme that it’d be a human rights violation in some countries. Summer is sweater weather in the U.S. It is often so cold in offices and restaurants, I kept a jacket on my chair at work in July. And I knew women who had blankets for their legs under their desks. (Though, you can bet I was secretly relieved not to be sleeveless.)

Post Script: Come to Paris in September for six transformative days of writing, communing, and exploring this most inspiring of cities. I’m co-hosting The Blue Hour writing workshop with Glynnis Macnicol, author of “I’m Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself.” There are a handful of spots left. See what recent participants have to say here.

Post Post Script:

Here’s the weather for July 7 in Paris. Welcome to whiplash climate-change chaos.