This is Montmartre – the Paris of Piaf, Degas, Lautrec, Picasso – and you are in the heart of it, at the foot of Montmartre Hill. Just off the bustling Boulevard de Clichy, busy with shops, cafes, cabaret dives and the infamous Moulin Rouge, you turn the corner into the little alleyway of Cité Veron (where Boris Vian and Jacques Prévert once lived) and leave the razzmatazz behind. Enter another world! On the first floor of an early 20th-century edifice, blessed with its own entrance, is a cosy little hideaway for two. (Or four, if you count the single sofabeds.) Yes it’s small, but it’s so much more spacious than a hotel room. There’s a comfy L-shaped sofa and a kitchenette in the corner, an oval dining table for four, and shelves for a small library of books and CDs, a surprisingly cultural selection (owner Francois, who lives below, is an Arts Editor). You have French channel TV, student art on the walls, and lots of cosy cushions. Most fun of all, a loft bed on the rustic wooden mezzanine above, reached by steep ladder. The dual-hob and microwave will suit a simple supper; for fancier fare, just open the door.