Mob House

When I checked into Mob House, I had one clear aim in mind: to give Mr Smith and me an ideal home base for exploring the storied Paris flea – aka Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen – that’s technically just outside of the city to the north.

I knew we’d have good proximity, but pulling up in a cab from Charles de Gaulle, I beamed at just how close we were to the sprawling antique market – which has been officially in operation since 1885, is the largest in the world, and is such a *thing* that Kelly Wearstler said she was spending every weekend there during her month-long stay this summer. We weren’t a nice walk to the flea. We were at the flea. 

Entering the hotel, though, I wasn’t met with the hubbub of furniture dealers lunching on baguettes and sausages, and shoppers scoping out 160-piece porcelain dining sets. No. There, next to a field of clover and wildflowers (delighting the pollinators) was a sprawl of outdoor seating in unfussy-but-polished wood and wicker dotted with cream cushions. The scene presented an alternative picture of what a stay here could be. It screamed zen getaway, as much as anything can ‘scream’ zen.

By the time I was up the elevator and into my room, I sensed that Mob House had a choose-your-own-adventure quality that few places could pull off. Need to crank out a big work project, maybe host a full-blown off-site? 

Our room was outfitted with a marble table big enough to seat six (six, in a hotel room!) and curtains that could cordon off the bedroom alcove so that you could comfortably host a meeting while maintaining your personal space. 

In the lobby restaurant, locals took business lunches in discreet nooks that offered privacy and design books for browsing, and clusters of could-be colleagues grabbed drinks well into the night.

Over breakfast the next morning, we saw a completely different possibility for a weekend stay as we nibbled from a spread of yogurt parfaits and pains au chocolat and watched many a guest pass through a jasmine-covered pergola that led to a 20-meter pool. 

It was surrounded by trees, stacks of yellow-and-white striped towels, and cushy loungers that were full by noon (Parisian staycationers, maybe? Chic!). It was a genuine escape from city life and – I have to hope – inboxes.

As tough as it was to pass up a cucumber fizz or glass of rosé on a sunny June day, we had limited time and lots of exploring to do. It was off to the flea. 

We started our browsing at Glustin, with its multiple floors of gallery-worthy furniture like an Archizoom Associati fiberglass and leopard fabric modular sofa from 1968, and a butterfly curiosity cabinet that I can only describe as…epic. We wove our way through the Marché Dauphine section, with its record vendors (our scores: Donna Summer and France Gall – because when in France…) and even a thoughtfully curated vintage outdoor-clothing seller, Maison de Quartier. 

We bopped around Paul Bert and Paul Bert Serpette, where bouclé fabric, postmodern lamps, and statement desks made a strong showing and you could get a masterclass in what’s trending in interior design in an hour or two.

Of course, by that point in the afternoon, we’d worked up an appetite and had one of the best meals of our trip at Bonne Aventure, almost within sight of the hotel. 

There was that glass of wine we’d been eyeing, a lamb dish that was early summer on a plate with its bright peas and tomato jus, beignets that were stuffed with something creamy that my lack of French skills couldn’t navigate – and the fact that we’d managed to score a prime outdoor table at all. We’d stopped by the day before to make a lunch reservation because, phew, otherwise we would have been SOL. 

After some early evening reading on our private terrace (me) and lap-swimming (Mr Smith), we set off on a stroll through Montmartre to dinner, and passing by Sacré-Cœur, we were grateful to have the proximity to the sights without being deep in the tourist crush.

Climbing under the crisp covers that night zonked, with perfectly fluffy pillows and the barely-there hum outside, it was like dozing inside a white-noise machine. That was surely the intent: the Mob House founder Cyril Aouizerate is a philosophy professor–turned–hospitality savant who’s also responsible for the Mama Shelter hotel group and who partnered with Philippe Starck to get the design and experience of this spot just right. 

There’s an emphasis on natural materials, from concrete to rice straw, and each of the 100 rooms is outfitted with a made-in-France Palace bed. Because no matter what else a trip entails, we all want that good night’s sleep, right?