In November, Montmartre steps away from its peak-season crowds. On the northern edge of Paris, the butte retains pockets of autumn colour in its small gardens and slopes, while the views from the top open out over the city in the cool, often clear air. A walk here at this time of year links quiet squares, steep staircases and remnants of the district’s village past.
The route begins, as many visits do, at the Basilica of the Sacré-Cœur. Built after the Franco-Prussian War and consecrated in 1919, the white Romano-Byzantine church sits at the highest point in Paris. From its forecourt and terrace, the city spreads out below in layers of rooftops and boulevards, with the Eiffel Tower rising to the south-west. In November the lawns on the slope beneath the basilica are dotted with fallen plane-tree leaves, and the light tends to be softer, especially in the late afternoon.
Behind Sacré-Cœur, the mood changes as soon as you step into the little park tucked away on the northern side. The Square Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet is a terraced garden, sheltered from the main flow of visitors. Here, in November, the trees hold on to their last yellow and copper leaves, and shrubs along the paths provide patches of colour against the pale stone of the retaining walls. It is a reminder that Montmartre, before annexation to Paris in the 19th century, was largely rural.
Close by stands Saint-Pierre de Montmartre, one of the oldest surviving churches in Paris, consecrated in 1147 on the site of earlier religious structures. Its Romanesque nave and Gothic choir recall the hill’s long history as a place of worship, from Roman temples to the martyrs of early Christianity. In the quieter November weeks, its small churchyard and neighbouring gardens feel removed from the bustle below on the boulevards.
From there it is a short walk to the top of the butte and the broad view over the city. On clear autumn days, the panorama takes in the line of the Seine, the glass roof of the Grand Palais, the dome of the Panthéon and, of course, the Eiffel Tower. The lower sun angle in November often gives the scene a muted, slightly hazy quality, with bands of light and shadow across the rooftops.
A few streets away, Place du Tertre maintains Montmartre’s association with artists. Once the village square, today it is lined with easels where painters and caricaturists offer quick portraits to passing tourists. Around the square, narrow lanes lead off between café terraces and small restaurants. In November, outdoor seating is still in use on milder days, often under heaters, and the square feels more spacious than in high summer.
Continuing north-west, the walk reaches the Musée de Montmartre on Rue Cortot. Housed in one of the oldest buildings on the hill, it was once home or studio to artists such as Renoir and Utrillo. The museum traces the district’s development from rural outpost to centre of cabaret and avant-garde art. Its gardens, overlooking the slopes of the hill, retain clusters of golden foliage at this time of year, framing views across the surrounding roofs.
A short distance further on, Rue de l’Abreuvoir curves gently past La Maison Rose, the small café-restaurant with its distinctive pink façade and green shutters. The building has appeared in paintings and photographs for more than a century and is often associated with the early 20th-century artistic community in the area. In November, the climbing plants along its walls shift to red and brown tones, and the cobbled street, lined with low houses and trees, shows many of the remaining autumn colours in this part of Paris.
Just beyond lies the Clos Montmartre, one of the city’s curiosities: a working vineyard on a steep slope between Rue des Saules and Rue Saint-Vincent. Established in 1933, it contains around 1,760 vines and some 27 grape varieties, including Gamay and Pinot, as a tribute to the hill’s wine-growing past. In November the harvest is over and the leaves on the vines turn shades of yellow, rust and dark red, creating a patch of colour framed by railings and overlooked by apartment buildings.
Near the vineyard stands Au Lapin Agile, the low cabaret house with its white gable and painted walls. Once known as the Cabaret des Assassins, it took its current name from a sign painted in 1875 by André Gill, showing a rabbit leaping from a saucepan. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries it became a meeting point for artists and writers including Picasso, Modigliani and Apollinaire. Seen from the edge of the vineyard in late autumn, the cabaret and its neighbouring trees appear almost like a remnant of a small country village, despite the surrounding city.
From here, the route begins to descend. Streets such as Rue des Saules and Rue Lepic drop towards the Boulevard de Clichy, with stairways cutting between terraces of flats. On the way down, there are further glimpses of gardens tucked behind railings or on the slopes between streets: small pockets of shrubs, ivy and late roses, many still holding on to their last leaves. Between the buildings, there are repeated views back up towards Sacré-Cœur, its pale dome often standing out against a grey November sky.
By the time the walk reaches the lower part of Montmartre, near the major roads and métro stations, the hill behind feels distinctly separate. In November, the combination of lingering autumn colour, exposed views over Paris and the relative calm of the off-season gives this route a particular atmosphere. For visitors prepared to climb the steps and explore the side streets, the district’s gardens, churches, cafés and surviving vineyard offer a clear sense of how Montmartre has evolved from rural village to one of the city’s most recognisable quarters.
Inside La Maison Rose, Montmartre’s most photographed café-restaurant
