Drink Absinthe While Lounging In A Bathtub At This Quirky Paris Bar

If you walk the narrow streets of Paris north of Pigalle, just past the flicker and swirl of the late-night boulangeries, Marlusse et Lapin waits for anyone seeking something a little fun-weird. The bar sits on a small, sloping street, with a door painted with a rabbit and the faded memory of old Paris nightlife. You don't stumble into this place, you find it, or perhaps it finds you, offering something unexpected. Absinthe — the favored late-night companion of the poets and artists of Paris' 19th century Belle Époque — arrives in a narrow glass, pale as a green ghost. A sugar cube, a slow pour, a tiny cloud of botanicals rising as the drink turns cloudy in the dim light.

The whole room feels like a fever dream of Parisian thrift; low ceiling, secondhand armchairs draped in heavy velvet, ancient bed frames piled with pillows, and, yes, repurposed bathtubs converted into couches. The tubs themselves aren't for bathing but for lounging, sides cut out and filled with cushions, patched and stickered and just the right amount of scruffy. The aesthetic is a lived-in daydream, with the bar's namesake rabbit watching over mismatched tables, threadbare velvet, and locals passing bottles and stories. The vibe is all about atmosphere, a place where even the glass of absinthe in your hand feels slightly haunted.

Absinthe is tangled up in the mythology of Paris, forever linked to bohemians and backrooms, painters and self-appointed visionaries who claimed it sharpened their genius and blurred their troubles. Once blamed for fueling wild, hallucinatory nights, the "green fairy" spent nearly a century in exile, only reclaiming its place on Parisian menus in 2011. In reality, the drink is gentler than the myths suggest: Softly herbal, with notes of anise and fennel, turning cloudy when splashed with water. At Marlusse et Lapin, every pour nods to those romantic, long-ago dreamers, a bit of history swirling greenly in bottom glass. 

As for the bathtubs: It's pure Parisian upcycling. Once reserved for potted flowers in eccentric front gardens, repurposed tubs have become a fixture in Marlusse et Lapin (probably at least partially because the cast iron tubs usually weigh between 200 and 500 pounds), an answer to tight budgets and a love of oddball décor. You'll see this DIY streak in other European cities, but Paris has a particular gift for making the offbeat feel inevitable. Here, a bathtub couch is just another story, folded in among the graffiti, velvet, and the taste of fennel and wormwood on your tongue.