Usagi

When sitting in Usagi it becomes quickly evident that there is a large elephant in the room. No, not the fact that everyone is too polite to mention that the chairs are somewhat uncomfortable. That is, if you are lucky enough to get a chair: you might be made to perch uneasily for the entire duration of the meal on the edge of a single bed that doubles as a shared banquette. Nor is it the fact that the room is unnervingly hot, despite the fact that there is at least one door open to some kind of back stairwell area behind the serving bench.

No, when I say an elephant, I really do mean an elephant. Or rather, a bunny. It's a huge, white lumping thing in the corner, one that sits rather like a child that has behaved poorly and is thus serving its punishment, unmoving, facing the wall in the hope that no-one will notice it. Uh, not quite.

The monolithic carrot-munching quadruped makes more sense when you learn that 'Usagi' is in fact the Japanese word for rabbit. And the rabbit makes more sense when you are searching for the bathroom, only to discover that the animal is in fact an extremely clever housing for said bathroom, one that is inoffensive and very effectively separates the loo from the dining room in a rather small space.

Usagi is peppered with rabbits throughout, both as decorative elements to the decor and the meal (see the photos for the tiny white rabbits carved out of radish), and I suspect that perhaps the menu is designed with rabbit-food in mind, too. What we ordered - the fois gras and duck for entrée, the mullet and tuna tartare for mains - were lovely. The individual dishes were imaginative, inventive and cohesive, and the palate was perfectly appropriate for the warmer months: clean, definitive (except maybe the foie gras in rice paper rolls - a little on the delicate side) and moorish. But that is where the problem lies: after finishing our meals (including a banana and green tea cake and a bottle of wine) we were left hankering for côte de boeuf.

It feels a little as though the menu has been designed with the fashion crowd in mind: small portions, no fat, few carbohydrates. Which is all very well if that is the kind of thing that you are looking for - some place cool to see and been seen at, where the food is interesting and uses really fresh ingredients but won't break your Atkins regime.

Perfect for the models and wannabes who habituate the Marais area, Usagi quite epitomises the notion of form over function. But at 99 euro for 2 courses, one dessert and the cheapest bottle of white on the menu, don't expect to feel full: something that is a little surprising considering what else is available in Paris at this price.

Usagi looks fantastic, the host and owner Shinsuké Kawahara is very sincere in his desire to please (his previous career was as a designer, something that is echoed throughout the space), though at the end of the day it left us wanting, and expecting slightly more. However, next time you are feeling a little guilty from last night's libations, want to go somewhere that has nailed the 'supercool Japanese interior design' genre or are entertaining a visiting supermodel, Usagi is your place of choice.


58, rue de Santonge / 75003 Paris / Ph: (+33) 01.48.87.28.85 / Hours: 12 - 2:30 pm and 19:30 - 10: 30 pm Monday - Saturday / Metro: Filles du Calvaire / http://www.usagi.fr/

Andy Wahloo

The name of this bar may sound like a slightly perverse play on Andy Warhol, as in, "In the future everyone is going to be famous for 15 minutes" - as I'm sure many of it's patrons would like to be. However, Andy Wahloo actually means "I have nothing" in Arabic - a rather odd name for a place that is so richly furnished. Created by the owners of the eponymous Sketch and Momo in London who also own the chic little restaurant 404 next door, Andy Warloo is a serious destination for the young and beautiful of Paris.

The bar is nestled into a fairly small space, one that is replete with arched colonnades and tiled floors, brightly coloured woven lanterns and more throw cushions than you would expect to find in your average harem. With an Arabic/ Moroccan theme to the music, the food, the bar and the decorations, one can settle in for the evening and watch (or imagine) a contemporary version of 1001 and Arabian Nights unfold before them.

That is, as long as you have brought a small fortune in gold coins along with you: at 10 euros for Mojito, a night in this little Morocco is going to set you back a bit (one round for you and your 5 closest friends almost buys you a discount ticket to the real thing- but let's not dwell on that). If you do as I do and stick to the Heineken beer, it's a little less hard to swallow at 5 euro a pop. Alternatively, get in early for Happy Hour, between 5 and 8pm daily, as many of the cocktails drop down to 5 euro and the beer to 3.50.

From lunchtime onwards you can sit around sipping mint tea and picking at Arabian-inspired mezze, such as carrot salad or marinated olives, and from around 9pm the seriously gorgeous decor is off-set by a seriously gorgeous crowd. Later in the evening European DJ's get to work, pushing the in-crowd from their upturned paint cans and into the writhing throng that is the 'dance floor'. If this is all a bit much, needle your way out the back and pull up a compacted-cardboard ottoman in the courtyard - that is, if you can find one free...


Andy Wahloo / 69, rue des Gravilliers / 75003 Paris / Ph: (+33) 01.42.71.20.38 / Hours: noon - 2am Monday - Saturday / Metro: Arts-et-Métiers or Rambuteau / http://www.myspace.com/andywahloo

Aux Comptoirs du Chineur

The first thing to catch your eye about Aux Comptoirs du Chineur is the original 1970's bubble chair hanging in the window. How Laurent (the buyer, owner and general man-about-town who runs the store) got it through the front door and then attached it to the ceiling is anyone's guess. But this is real 1970's stuff, an original piece that is undoubtedly really cool (and comes with a real price-tag - 3200 euro, thanks for asking) - as is everything else you find in Aux Comptoirs du Chineur. And as such, is worth sticking your neck out for.

Aux Comptoirs du Chineur is not your average vintage store. There is no pervasive musty smell, the guy in the corner isn't some crusty septuagenarian that eyes you with suspicion, and you actually find loads of things that you'd like to call your own - all of which are in good condition. Yes, this little palace of chaos (artful chaos, mind you) is a collection of hand-picked gear mostly from the 1950s through to the 1980s, with little diversions such as a great pair of 1920s heels or electro LPs from the 1990s.

Laurent is very careful about what he choose to stock: you will not find any outright junk in the store. You will find Bakelite telephones, roller-skates, sunglasses (starting at 10 euro), more shoes and boots than are quite possibly strictly necessary (the man has an eye for shoes, it must be said, though none of these are really cheap - maybe 100 euro for a pair of motorcycle boots in good condition), jackets, vinyl and a great collection of paraphernalia too numerous to mention, that would look inappropriately appropriate just about anywhere.

Aux Comptoirs du Chineur - vintage that is definitely seeing better days.


Aux Comptoirs du Chineur / 49, rue Saint Paul / 75004 Paris / Ph: (+33) 01.42.72.47.39 / Hours: 2 - 8pm daily, except Monday / Metro: St Paul

La Galerie Végétale

The first time you walk past La Galerie Végétale, you find yourself staring in the window thinking "...what on earth..?". Asides from being completely intrigued about what exactly is going on in there, you are immediately captured by the surreal beauty of the space. But what is it, precisely? A florist? An interior design studio? A gallery? Well yes, actually - it is all of those things, and that is what makes it so beguiling.

Michel Lebroton and Solveig Kuffer have created an extraordinary space, something that they like to think of as a love letter to "Mother Nature". Set in an immense atelier-like room that was once a woodwork studio, La Galerie Végétale houses a florist/workshop area to one side and a gallery to the other - the influence of one lapping at the corners of the other as a dialogue between form and colour is created.

Yes, you can go in and buy a bunch of seasonal flowers (starting at around 20 euro), but do be sure to linger. The collection of artworks changes every month or so (I could not take photos of the art for copy write reasons, naturally) and the thematic of the 'florist' is then built around the art. The collection of flowers and greenery is offset by an intellectual yet aesthetically pleasing approach to lighting, space and decoration that contrasts texture with colour and form. Everything in La Galerie Végétale is honed around the notion of nature as installation art: it is a very successful homage to Mother Nature indeed.


La Galerie Végétale / 29 rue des Vinaigriers / Ph: (+33) 01.40.37.07.16 / 75010 PARIS / Metro: Gare de l'Est / Hours: 10am - 12pm, then 5pm - 7:30pm Tuesday to Thursday, 10am - 2pm and 3pm - 8pm Friday and Saturday, 10am - 2pm and 3pm - 6pm Sunday / lagalerievegetale@free.fr

Jamin Puech

This one is strictly for the ladies (... or men who like the ladies... or who like to dress like ladies...). Jamin Puech is the dernier cri in boho-chic accessories. Whatever is happening in handbag style, the Jamin Puech team (that's Benoit Jamin and Isabelle Puech) are doing it bigger, bolder, better and quite possibly pricier.

This is both a good thing and a bad thing, and it is something that pervades their boutiques, because:
a) these are some of the most beautiful small-production handbags you'll ever see, with exquisitely delectable exteriors matched by equally delectable interiors:
b) most people I know (myself included) could never hope to afford one at full price (but I hate to think what that says about me or the people I know, suffice to say many of us are still paying off our University fees), and
c) they really don't like young women who clearly fit into point b) to be poking around in their stores with a camera (who am I kidding? These people don't need my publicity! They have more stores in more countries than I have pairs of socks in my wardrobe).

But here's my confession: I have loved these bags for much longer than I knew how to pronounce their name. When I was a starry-eyed teenager in Melbourne devouring copy after copy of Vogue, I would read about all of these impossibly chic European women who carried Jamin Puech bags (I was impressed enough that they knew how to say it, let alone actually owned one) and really seemed to enjoy the act of looking cool and nonchalant whilst smoking (never been my thing) and trotting around in high heels (ditto... I like to tell myself that I'm just too practical-a-girl to frequently wear heels, but that does nothing to explain why then at the ripe old age of thirty I am still lusting over Jamin Puech bags in the store window, rather than in my hot little hands as I pull one out of its tissue and proceed to stuff it with my own belongings. In my own home. Having paid for it with my own money. But I digress)...

So, to put it in a nutshell: if you like pretty little things you can clutch at or toss over your shoulder and justify the existence of by being "necessary objects that hold practical things" (even better if you can actually afford to buy one), get thee to Jamin Puech. Or even if you just like really cool interior designer-y things, they have those too (perhaps something to distract the boyfriend with whilst you are looking at the bags. Though these are not for sale. But trust me, there are sufficient interior design objects of note in each store that should distract him just long enough for him not to realise that you have just re-mortgaged the house to get that sweet little tote in canary that is lurking in the corner, gently cooing your name...).

Just be sure not to drool on the goodies contained within the store - the shop staff don't like that much either (... don't ask).

Jamin Puech in Paris / 26, rue Cambon / 75001 Paris / Ph: (+33) 01.40.20.40.28 / Metro: Madeleine / + / 68, rue Vieille du Temple / 75003 Paris / Ph: (+33) 01.48.87.84.87 / Metro: Rambuteau / + / St-Paul / 43, rue Madame / 75006 Paris / Ph: (+33) 1.40.20.40.28 / + / Metro: Rennes / 61, rue d'Hauteville / 75010 Paris / Ph: (+33) 01.40.22.08.32 / Metro: Poissonnière / http://www.jamin-puech.com/

Chez Michel

Tucked around the corner from Gare du Nord is one of Paris's best kept culinary secrets. It is the kind of place where you know you will always need to make a booking, as no matter which day of the week or what time of year, as it is always buzzing. And rightly so: chef Thierry Breton is very proud of his Breton roots, and goodness knows he makes the most of this influence and his exceptional way with seasonal produce, to the benefit of all who have the good fortune to dine at Chez Michel.

It's hard to fathom that a restaurant with food this good, such a convivial atmosphere, a chef so attentive and a wine list so interesting to exist without some kind of international following, but it does - and largely without the tourist hordes. There are not many places in Paris that serve a 30 euro three course dinner that leaves you both sated (read: stuffed) and amazed at the ingenuity and quality of each and every dish.

I was surprised that the Chef took the time to talk us through each stage of our meal, explaining the more complicated ingredients and cooking techniques, and sharing amusing little anecdotes that explain the origin of the dishes. His attentions did not end there: he served drinks and the plates, and cleared the table when we were done - something most chefs of this calibre would be far too proud to stoop to. The guy is overworked, but clearly, he loves it.

Amazingly, Chef also invited me into his kitchen - something unheard of by most cooks of renown, as the cuisine usually remains the hallowed stomping ground of the kitchen staff only and is certainty not open to the paying public.

This light attitude helps you understand Chez Michel's traditional French decorations (a Francophone's wet dream) and the little kitsch touches that lurk on mantels and in corners: this is a man who understands that one can take one's food very seriously, without doing the same to himself. This is possibly the greatest compliment of all. Thierry Breton has humility and is a kitchen genius; what more could you want?

As for the food? Well, just look at the photos. There is a reason that the existence of Chez Michel is a morsel of information that Parisian's like to hold closely to their chest: some secrets are better when they are kept.


Chez Michel / 10 rue de Belzunce / 75010 Paris / Ph: (+33) 01 44 53 06 20 / Hours: Closed Saturday, Sunday, Monday lunch and all of August / bookings essential / metro: Gare du Nord

Ets Lion

To get off at Anvers metro station in Montmartre is to see the Parisian tourist industry in full force. On one side a young man bellows at a group of boisterous British teenagers to form an orderly line and make sure they have metro passes handy, whilst on the other a long-suffering fifty-something woman rattles off pieces of mundane historic knowledge to nobody in particular, as she holds an umbrella in the air and attempts to lead her group of 20 middle-aged Spaniards up the teeming streets to the fabled Sacre Coeur. Ah, yes, beautiful Montmartre.

So here's an idea: when you want to go to Montmartre, don't get off at Anvers. Instead, try Abbesses. It's strange that the two metro stops are so close - essentially on the same slope of the same hill - and yet have such an entirely different feel.

The rue des Abbesses community is a tight one: here a sense of neighbourhood really exists, much like it did over 100 years ago when Ets Lion opened their doors. There are still the same picturesque landmarks along the street that would draw the approving eye of any seasoned traveller, but instead of tourists overpopulating the charming bars and shops and bistros, the collection of people is a somewhat multicultural community of people who call Paris home. And it is to this crowd that Ets Lions largely caters.

At first (slightly kitsch) glance the store appears to be a kind of makeshift gardening store, with an array of plants sprawling out of the front section of the shop and onto the footpath. But once you are inside a world of culinary goodies is unveiled.

Herbs and spices measured by scales, great drums of olive oil, candied fruits, wines and champagnes, tea, conserves, old-fashioned sweets and finely crafted chocolate overfill the charmingly decorated barn-like structure. These are all artisan products and represent some of the finest produce France has to offer. Should you be searching for the most delicate ginger-laced chocolate or a rare spice to add to your pilaf, this is your destination. Forget that the place looks like it was designed to lure tourists: it has been a mainstay of the rue des Abbesses community since 1895.

Go, rummage, buy something you've never tried before and discover a little corner of Montmartre that you might otherwise have missed: you'll be experiencing a slice of Paris in much the same way as the locals have been doing for over a century.