Temple of gotta-have-it-ness: Colette, 213 rue Saint-Honoré, Paris

Paris’ Colette store, which launched the very concept of the “concept store,” is a required pilgrimage for the fashion-obsessed. Ideal for post-prandial shopping, with its own Water Bar brasserie or the Hotel Costes and its clubby restaurant just up the street, Colette is located in the middle of the couture epicenter Rue Saint Honoré. Other local storefronts boast instantly recognizable logos, but Colette is too cool for a sign. Still, constant crowds pack the glossy white space, checking out the latest gothic cuff by Chrome Hearts or ogling pricey gadgets such as a solid gold Vertu phone or a Swarovski-crystal USB flash drive, and leafing through Colette’s selection of über-cool magazines and books or listening to Colette’s cult compilation music CDs.

Founded by the mother-daughter team of Colette Roussaux and Sarah Lerfel, Colette has already been around for a decade, but remains the undisputed hangout of choice for the Paris Fashion Week crowd. While Roussaux is slightly more reclusive, Lerfel, the daughter, who does all of the buying for the store, is becoming a fashion icon in her own right with her front-row attendance at all the shows and her gamine looks. She chooses clothes as though they were destined for a fashion shoot, and these extraordinary and covetable pieces are displayed in a spare, gallery-like manner. Lerfel says, "for us, Colette means nothing. It's about the designers we represent."
It’s no wonder that designers love Colette, and supply the shop with choice limited editions. A recent example: the Yves Saint Laurent metallic leather letter-shaped clutch addressed to the famous maison de couture with 213 rue Saint-Honoré as its return address. Only ten were made, and they sold out within seconds.

Colette represents the glossy side of fashion: it’s Repetto leopard-print flats, it’s Lacoste polos in exclusive colors, it’s Jimmy Choo and Rodarte, Burberry, Chloë Sevigny for Opening Ceremony, Lanvin, luxury sneakers, fig-scented candles and Kiehls beauty products and colorful gadgets and candy, mixed in with just enough new talent to give it the necessary edge. This dizzying array of goods paradoxically remains cohesive because each item in Colette has such a vivid aura of desirability.
Colette’s service is impressive, with a dedicated concierge who will even load your iPod for you, a personal shopper, a makeup artist, free tailoring, and delivery to anywhere in Paris. They even have a wedding registry that some view as a bit bourgeois.
But lest we think Colette is getting too conventional, consider the latest expo held in its dedicated gallery during the Autumn/Winter 2008-2009 collections: Swiss artist Comenius Roethlisberger's exhibition of luxury-brand logos (think Chanel, Versace, and Dior) executed in a mixture of cocaine and powdered sugar, the quintessence of Paris Fashion Week.