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Don’t expect to get out of here without splashes of wine on your shirt. Hidden in the heart of the snooty neighbourhood of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, evenings in this vaulted stone wine cellar mix hip students with the hoi polloi in a glorious jumble. Everyone dances up close, getting up on the tables when there’s no room on the floor, and they drink, they clink glasses, and they sing at the top of their voices.
Chez Georges has been an institution since 1952. Few wine cellars like this are left today – Georges keeps the charm of old with nicotine-stained photos of forgotten celebrities and a promotional Raphaël Quinquina clock, as outmoded as the spirit it advertises, which was in fashion some time in the last century. In the torpor of the afternoon, its ‘tick-tock’ punctuates the silence of the regulars’ chess games. When evening comes, don’t be discouraged by the crowds – sometimes you just have to wait a little to get down into the cellar.