The shop is gleaming clean, all black and white and steel and glass, designed to make the few exceptions stand out. The most important of these is the food: myriad types of cakes and pastries and chocolates all laid out neatly on white slates in the curved black display cases like an array of vibrant jewels. The other main exception is the seating. The black tables that almost seem to sprout directly from the equally black floor are joined by a selection of vintage chairs, each upholstered in a single rich colour of velvet. Their curvy, almost sculptural forms contrast with the angles of room and tables and dishware, instead echoing the shapes of the counter and of the acoustic baffles that hang from the remarkably high ceiling and form a sinuous wave above.
Big shop windows cover most of the front and one side of the shop, showing the street beyond. On the other side is the counter; a set of shelves on the black-painted wall behind it are lined with square silver boxes that hold the various kinds of tea. The other walls are white; the rear wall is kept from being barren by three artistically shot photos of patisserie and chocolates, and by a less artistic pair of doors to the bathrooms. A door in the black wall presumably leads to the kitchen. Every tin and slate is neatly labeled. And, unsurprisingly, the place smells amazing.