Ah, the crisp autumn days are finally upon us. Sweater weather, Alaskan fur coat weather, call-it-what-you-want weather, we’re not in summer anymore. (Even though girls wear shorts and tights? A truly uncomfortable-sounding combination.)

Little dogs get dressed up and paraded around in little sweaters that could double as tea cozies, or maybe pumpkin cozies, depending on the size of the dog. Cute either way, let’s be honest.

The construction guys permanently wear long-sleeved shirts under their fluorescent yellow vests, and traffic cops wear gloves and hats.

The trees (if you see any around, let me know…I’m still searching) drop their leaves, as most deciduous flora is wont to do. The pigeons drop…whatever it is that they drop. It’s not pleasant to smell, and even less pleasant to step into. Fortunately, they have not yet cursed me, metropolis-style, by dropping it on my head (but it’s bound to happen eventually).

Hats and earmuffs become the norm once more. People dust off their trusty old UGGs and hope everyone else doesn’t totally judge them (they are comfortable, just lacking in the arch support).

Sometimes, if you’re lucky (or unlucky), you’ll see baby flurries of snow.

It’s not much, only the barest whisper of the winter that is, of course, coming (the Starks have known this for a while though, so it really shouldn’t be much of a surprise).

Your morning coffee or tea ritual gradually shifts to favor the hot varieties, and you take an overwhelmingly great pleasure in carrying your cute little coffee or tea cup, wrapped up in its cute little sleeve, environmentally-friendly practices be damned.

Storefronts bring out the big guns – an utterly winning combination of plushy puppies (wrapped in sweaters and scarves of various-colored knits), sparkling snowflakes, lush leather boots, and impeccably aesthetic fonts.

The oddball, temporary Halloween factory stores close down until next year arrives. Hot cider becomes ubiquitous with the likes of Union Square, or anywhere else.

The smell of pumpkin and nutmeg are almost enough to override the ever present piles of garbage that line the streets. Your Instagram feed is littered with images of hearty soups, stews, and macaroni and cheese. (I hear you can make that stuff vegan these days – pretty nifty.)

People walk with more purpose, if possible. Now that the soul-crushing heat is no longer a factor, they happily walk at breakneck pace. They dress in their customary greys and blacks, with flashes of autumn maroon, mustard yellow (weirdly popular), forest green.

This breaks up the sea of standard black umbrellas that pop up like daisies the minute it stops flurrying and starts pouring, because hey, climate change is a thing.

Summer tourists are long gone, only to be replaced by the steadily growing crowds of eager Christmas shoppers. Don’t quote me on this, but I assume the sales of scarves and ugly sweaters are currently skyrocketing.

The locals? Still slightly aloof but not entirely miffed to answer occasional tourist inquiries. Maybe they even do it with a little less venom than is stereotypically associated with them. Blame the Christmas spirit. It’s contagious. Kind of like the flu, or pneumonia.

Tourists might tell you winter is in the city when you see the tree go up at the Rockefeller Center, or when you finally go ice skating in Bryant Park (I prefer to call it ice falling, there is no skating when I do it).

They’ll see hot chocolate with marshmallows and wearing cute scarves and hearing Christmas music everywhere (this includes your friendly neighborhood Duane Reade) as the hallmarks of an incoming winter, as a city gathering itself up and getting ready to brave another season of snow and frozen extremities and allergies.

To me? I know winter is nearly here when you watch your Netflix burritoed up, with a cup of tea and a pair of woolen socks.

Unless you’re allergic. Then I’d highly recommend alpaca fluff – pretty sure that stuff is hypoallergenic.