A Rose Will Smell As Sweet

Maisie

It may be Fashion Week in the City of Light but all I really care about is the news that Rose Bakery is imminently opening its second Parisian outpost (and third overall, after London’s Dover Street Market top floor location).

A new location in the Marais will open this fall on the Rue Debelleyme, in Paris’  3rd arrondissement.

Parisian ladies are—to stereotype them—shockingly thin. No, really. There have even been genetic studies on the French to test how they can subsist on cigarettes, bad coffee, pains au chocolat and steak tartare and still fit their skinny legs into Chanel tweed their entire lives.

The puzzle becomes even more stymieing when you factor in the city’s bevy of fine eateries, like the cult favorite Rose Bakery, a small restaurant where a glass case is all that separates you and your drooling face from the gooey lemon tarts topped with baked meringue; savory vegetarian foccaccias; individual square quiches filled with jambon du pays; cylindrical carrot cakes as good to look at as they are to eat, and their famous comptoir des crudités: bowls and bowls of various fresh vegetable salads.

The food is mostly organic (“bio,” in French), and combined with its sterile chic atmosphere, Ros Carrarini, a sweet-faced diminutive Franco-Brit, has created quite the hang-out for the health-conscious crowd of hip Parisians. (Ros’ brother Adrian is married to Comme des Garcons designer Rei Kawakubo, so the edgy crowd of Junya Watanabe-wearing patrons has given the resto (that’s French shorthand for ‘restaurant’) quite the following. Takashi Murakami, Kirsten Dunst, Jean Paul Gaultier and Hedi Slimane are some of the converts to Ros’s mouth-watering fare.

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