I went for a long walk last night in Paris. I chuntered most of the way, only breaking off to nod a greeting to the handful of other maskless pedestrians. We’re a dwindling band, but there’s a camaraderie among us, a bond created by our refusal to give in to hysteria. It’s an eclectic club, cutting across sex, age and ethnicity. A report this week stated that Frenchwomen in their 50s were the most reluctant to wear masks, but in Paris I would say it’s men in their forties and women in their early twenties.
But to see someone on the streets in Paris without a mask has become increasingly rare in recent weeks. In May I wrote that in my estimation fifty per cent of Parisians sported them, a figure that has now risen to about two thirds of the population; that chimes with a recent survey that found 63 per cent of French people believe masks should be mandatory on the streets.
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