Packing for Paris

I'm always packed a month before I leave. It's not that I'm anal (though I probably am) but I worry about having the 'right' clothes for Paris.
Which means I always shop before I go. I am forever grateful that they opened an Anthropologie in Montreal, where I can actually fit a small. In Paris, most of the sweaters look as wide as my arm and I have given up trying to buy anything other than accessories--not that I can afford anything more than accessories.
I pack bandages for the inevitable blisters of walking miles out of the way to track down a particular shop I remember from trips gone-by. There's no such thing as discount drugstores in Paris; shopclerks in Pharmacies wear lab coats and a little thing like a box of bandages might as well be stamped by Hermes. (I remember one trip where I saved my feet by stuffing Maxi pads into my shoes--much cheaper than insoles!)
A hotwater bottle because Paris is inevitably damp and the last thing I want during my precious few days is to be laid up with a cold.
Bedsocks--ditto the above.
An umbrella, though it's not really much help because Paris tends to get that European mist that only the aforementioned items guard against. That and a good shot of French brandy which I buy when I arrive.
Books. A couple of guidebooks and something to read on the plane and when I'm lounging around in the Jardin du Luxembourg. I either leave them in my hotel, where they have a neat little library of guests' cast-off volumes, or bring them to Shakespeare and Company for a few extra Euros to spend.
A couple of cameras--two just in case one goes on the blink--a Polaroid or automatic for quick and easy shots  and a 'real' camera.
A picture of my dog, just in case anyone asks about Eddy--voila, the latest.
Presents for the concierge and chambermaids at my hotel. The inevitable maple syrup and something in a Roots bag.
Weather wise, it's almost impossible to predict what to pack. I have pictures of me shivering in sandals during a Parisian Spring which just happened to be the coldest in 20 years. It's always easy to peel down but I hate to use up precious suitcase space with bulky sweaters.
Even more, I dread the thought of ending up in sneakers and a Tilley hat. That's probably why I pack a lot of black.
I know when someone stops to ask for directions that I've got it right. Maybe it's the scarf...

Where I'm headed