Sara’s abroad in Paris, France, until Dec. 13.

In the book I’m reading, Paris to the Moon (an account written by an American journalist about living in Paris… something that obviously hits close to home), the author says that Christmas “came” to Paris in the winter he was living there in the mid-nineties. If that’s true, Christmas came and decided to stay this year: While America is decorated with Santa Claus galore from Thanksgiving to Christmas Day, the Paris approach is slightly more subtle but just as present.

You can’t walk for very long in the city without coming across a Christmas market — all of which look about the same. Little wooden stands sell scarves, jewelry, tea, hot chocolate and the oh-so-delicious vin chaud (malt wine). Of all the Christmas markets I’ve seen, the Champs Elysees is definitely the most impressive. Although crawling with tourists, the beautiful avenue dripping with classy white lights is nothing short of spectacular. And the wafting air as meat, cheese and potatoes is broiled together in a huge pan at the food vendor stands isn’t half-bad either.

And just when I was thinking I missed Chicago and the beautiful Marshall Field’s windows (I can’t call it Macys…), Paris outdid even my hometown. There are several famous department stores in Paris, the most “celebre” of them being les Galleries Lafayette and all of them have their own window displays, one more extravagant than the next. It puts State Street to shame. While the stores all have beautiful wreathes and lights hanging from the windows, it is refreshing to see that even in Paris, where they seem to tout themselves as being the masters of the “calm, cool and collected” look, Christmas shopping makes everyone go nuts.

Christmas just seems to come so natural to Paris. It’s almost hard to imagine the city without this decadent display of Noel. Paris is a timeless city and Christmas here feels just as timeless. It’s Christmas the way I imagine our parents or grandparents enjoyed it: simple lights, reds and silver, evergreen hanging from awnings and just a hint of blue scattered throughout. If you’re a die-hard Sex and the City fan like me, you’ll remember the episode where Charlotte is woefully unpacking all her Christmas ornaments for one last celebration in July. She pulls out a blue one and makes a remark about the rarity of blue in Christmas ornaments and how it’s from her grandmother. That classic, rich blue is everywhere in Paris.

What’s rare are loud flashing Santa Clauses (or Pere Noels), Rudolphs and Frosties. While the author of my book seems to think that France finally jumped on the American bandwagon of marketing holidays… it just doesn’t seem to have the same air of consumerism. Or maybe, it does, but what the Parisians love and market is just simply different from what Americans crave. We celebrate our holidays how we talk. Loud. Fireworks, light displays. We love invention so each year gets bigger. Lights are good so more lights must be better. But the French celebrate the way they talk too. Soft. Understated. Very little inflection. Hence why you’ll find soft lighting up and down St. Germain, the same red lights and wreaths above almost every storefront and that dark, subtle blue extended throughout the city.

One thing you will find, though, is the same warmth that comes with the holidays. Not in the weather; I haven’t seen the sun for days and it has rained almost constantly. But everyone, even steadfastly fierce Parisians, seem to be in better spirits. So, assuming this public celebration of Christmas came to Paris from across the Atlantic, I think it’s encouraging. Paris took Christmas and made it its own but it’s refreshing to see that Christmas cheer wasn’t lost in translation.

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