Though it’s well-located on rue St. Honoré, this is the sort of spot that’s easy to walk right by: there’s not really even a sign, and inside is hushed, dimly lit, cloister-like and achingly cool, complete with rickety, slightly off-kilter shelves that literally sag under the weight of Astier de Villatte’s ceramic tableware. Made from black terracotta clay—then finished in the brand’s signature milky white—these perfectly imperfect dishes are the hallmark of some of the best-dressed tables we know. You’ll also find the house line of geometric-print, gold-rimmed notebooks (made by the last master printer in Paris), their gorgeously old-fashioned candle and incense collections, along with a handful of oddities, like glassware cast in the shape of skulls and stout little teapots.

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