Paris_ The Collected Traveler - Barrie Kerper [90]
The street’s retail charms are so conspicuous that they almost obscure what is one of the city’s most sought-after neighborhoods. Some of the capital’s most gracious apartments sit above the boutiques, carved from eighteenth- and nineteenth-century private houses. The “happy few” occupy aristocratic family mansions—some have been in the same hands for two hundred years. Other inhabitants, whom we might call limousine liberals but whom the French refer to as gauche caviar, choose the quartier for the grandeur of its fine houses and its access to the Collège de France and the other cultured haunts of the Left Bank.
The handsome balconies at no. 11 merely hint at the gilded splendor of the Louis XV paneling in its second-story reception rooms, and the nearby rue du Regard typifies the best of the sedate eighteenth-century limestone façades of the neighborhood, with elegant pediments and portes cochères that spark fantasy.
But the real magic of the neighborhood, what brings us back, is the people—the Little Blue Riding Hood employing Cartesian arguments to persuade Maman that the bear beanbag in the window really requires immediate adoption; the tailored gentleman looking the part of a retired diplomat, emerging from his bookbinder with a leather volume under his arm.
And amid all the fashion temptations, there are food shops (this is Paris, after all). The neighborhood baker is the internationally known Poilâne, the city’s largest organic market is held on the boulevard Raspail each Sunday, and the Grande Épicerie de Paris is only streets away. There are restaurants and cafés, too, though visitors are well advised to reserve if they hope to claim a table at L’Épi Dupin. Alternatively, they can join the ladies who don’t really lunch for a sandwich at Cuisine de Bar, where there’s even a diet choice. In this quartier, it’s important to be able to slither into a bodysuit from Feelgood.
IN THE NEIGHBORHOODS
Temple
Recently remodeled, the Musée des Arts et Métiers showcases French inventions, among them Pascal’s adding machine, Foucault’s pendulum, Ader’s airplane, and the Lumière brothers’ movie camera. (60 rue Réaumur / +33 01 53 01 82 00.)
Chez Omar is something of a hybrid: a nicotine-soaked brasserie specializing in couscous. Its clientele is equally eclectic, with models waiting for tables alongside locals, and cutting-edge moviemakers as pleased with the merguez as the wanna-bes. (47 rue de Bretagne / +33 01 42 72 36 26.)
The fare at Au Bascou is as good as Basque food gets: chestnut soup, stuffed piquillo peppers, and roasted squab, enjoyed with whatever little-known bottles Jean-Guy Loustou, the restaurant’s owner and host, may suggest. (38 rue Réaumur / +33 01 42 72 69 25.)
Le Pamphlet’s prix-fixe menu includes happy innovations such as squid risotto, crab ravioli sauced with pea emulsion, and licorice ice cream. (38 rue Debelleyme / +33 01 42 72 39 24.)
A huge, flat-screen monitor greets arrivals at Web Bar. With its concrete tables, velvet banquettes, and wired workstations, this is a grown-up cybercafé. (32 rue de Picardie / +33 01 42 72 66 55.)
Behind a shabby façade, DOT (Diffusion d’Objets de Table) sells reproductions of bistro tablewares. (47 rue de Saintonge / +33 01 40 29 90 34.)
There’s nothing shy about Philippe Ferrandis’s fantastical bijoux. Once an accessorist for Oscar de la Renta, today he makes and sells his bold and bright objets from this showroom-atelier. (2 rue Froissart / +33 01 48 87 87 24.)
In Franck Delmarcelle’s Et Caetera, you’ll find huge garden urns alongside eighteenth-century tables, and lanterns and mantelpieces alongside sideboards and chandeliers. Everything in this long, narrow boutique is gutsy and slightly overscale. (40 rue de Poitou / +33 01 42 71 37 11.)
L’Habilleur stocks last season’s merchandise, but