In August, the typically bustling Saturday morning market across from the Paris Museum of Modern Art is a whisper of itself. Gone are the flower stalls, the fishmongers, the line for hot crepes. The cheese vendors have disappeared, except one run by Philippe Perette.

“This is Paris in August,” he says, cutting a piece of vieux Comté. “It’s not normal Paris.”

Normal Paris is crowded, haughty, frenetic. It’s a place where people jockey for space, on the subways, in the streets and in the cafes that spill across the sidewalks.

Paris in August, except for the tourist traps, is a whole other place. Its streets are deserted — decluttered of terrace chairs and charging commuters. Its subway cars, normally standing-room only, offer places to sit. Many of its storefronts are closed, with notices taped to their dark windows or metal shutters.

“Closed for vacation, opening Aug. 31, 2025. Thanks,” reads the handwritten note affixed to a newspaper kiosk.

A note on a pharmacy announces that it is closed for three weeks in August and tells customers to “plan ahead for your medical and health product needs.”