Paris Micro Loft Transformed for Father and Son, 25sqm/269sqft
In the heart of the 18th arrondissement of Paris, where the air smells of fresh bread and the streets hum with the rhythm of Montmartre, I found myself standing in a 25-square-meter fragment of history. This top-floor flat, tucked away in a 19th-century Haussmann building, was a place where time seemed to have stood still, unoptimized and dusty. But as an interior designer, I didn’t see a cramped studio; I saw a dream of “living lighter” and an opportunity to find “poetry in the everyday”.
My creative process began with a vision of a “quiet place surrounded by books”. For Léonard, a book reviewer, and his young son, the home needed to be more than a dwelling—it needed to be a sanctuary of optimism. I chose to wash the world in white, painting the floors and walls to act as a luminous canvas. This choice wasn’t just about brightness; it was a deliberate move to make the space feel vast and to let Léonard’s vibrant collection of books and orange vintage chairs provide the color and soul of the room.
I believe that every home should have a touch of the “wild and wonderful”. In the kitchen, I worked with birch plywood, tinting it to a warm walnut look to honor the original ceramic fireplace. I obsessed over the mirrored splashback, not just for its utility, but because I wanted it to capture the reflection of the Paris sky and the city’s iconic rooftops, pulling the outside world into the intimacy of the kitchen. We replaced the traditional desk with a large custom daybed, adding a specific cushion so Léonard could lie back and watch the clouds drift over Paris—a small, necessary luxury.
Perhaps the most emotional part of this journey was designing for the next generation. I wanted the son’s room to feel like a secret, a blue “nook” inspired by Alice in Wonderland. We built a tiny door—the largest the existing beams would allow—that requires a playful crawl to enter. Bathed in blue walls and a cozy blue carpet, it is a cabin for the imagination, isolated by soundproof glass so the play can remain wild while the rest of the home stays still.
In the center of it all stands the sculptural metal staircase. I didn’t want it to be merely functional; I wanted it to be a “masterpiece” or a piece of art that felt thin, discrete, and almost ethereal. It leads to a bedroom where we replaced the old skylight with a larger, better-insulated one, granting access to the rooftop and a breathtaking view of Montmartre.
Building this home was a determination to do things differently. It taught me that comfort isn’t found in expansive halls, but in the optimization of every square meter and the intentional choice to create spaces that invite us to “pause, ponder, and smile”.