As Thomas O’Malley, king of the alley, once crooned in Walt Disney’s The Aristocats, “Everybody wants to be a cat because a cat’s the only cat who knows where it’s at! Everybody’s picking up on that feline beat ’cause everything else is obsolete!”
I concur completely. Especially whilst romping through Old Parigi during the nippy, slippery fall season, I always purr. “Nailed it again!” I shout up to the trees wooing my undivided attention with their scarlet red and canary yellow leaves all a-flutter.
I’m feeling all blissed out and matchy-matchy myself, cloaked head-to-toe in thick denim. Decadently decked-out with faux fur sleeves in blazing neon orange, it’s not difficult to press a reality pause, linger on a bench, and watch the leaves fall ’til les chats come home.
Get the look
So in celebration of all that is truly, madly, deeply autumnal, let’s skip to the cobblestone rues for some divine feline inspiration, shall we? Where’s the love? Trust me, it’s here and there, and everywhere.
Because in the words of another favorite groove-master poet, Jean Cocteau, “I love cats because I enjoy my City, and little by little, they become its visible soul.”
Inhale. Exhale. And dawdle like only your spirit animal is watching.
Related article: Paris Cats, in Pictures: Felines on Parade