God, it looks like Daniel

Brian Johnston is delighted to find a Paris hotel where the exotic awaits behind its traditional facade.

From the outside of the Hotel Daniel, there are no surprises. I would expect to see battered cars parked higgledy-piggledy on the pavement, a severe townhouse, wrought-iron balconies prim with displays of geraniums. This is Paris, after all.

Then I step inside and into an exotic boudoir of lush colour.

Songbirds and flowers erupt on the wallpaper, and creamy orchids bloom from glazed pots. On the walls, a display of blue porcelain dishes suggests I'm in China, but an explosion of red Kazakhstan rugs covers the floor, and the mother-of-pearl furniture is surely Syrian. Plush sofas are country English. When I sit down on one, it envelops me in the plump hug of a matronly aunt.

The Daniel isn't your average boutique hotel. It's a magpie vision of the Far and Middle East that improbably comes together in an Aladdin's cave of delights. The interior designer is London-based Lebanese woman Tarfa Salam, but she has managed to perfectly capture the 18th-century French fashion for orientalism, mixing chinoiserie and hints of the harem with pastoral scenes straight out of Versailles. Its colourful exuberance makes me smile.

As in many European city-centre hotels, my room is compact and barely has enough space for my suitcase. I wrestle it into a corner where it does nothing but offend the room's impeccably placed antique furnishings. Though there'll be no cat swinging, the room exudes cosiness - something many hotels attempt but few genuinely achieve. The room has a vaguely 18th-century style, with a writing desk on spindly legs that would make me feel like Marie Antoinette if it weren't for the internet socket.

I like the whimsical wallpaper, where Chinese kite flyers in bright colours play, and the marble sensuality of the petite but perfectly arranged bathroom.

The restaurant is pocket-size, too, but big on flavour. The Daniel is part of the Relais & Chateaux brand, noted for its fine food, so it's no surprise the French cuisine is top notch. But it's also sometimes surprising: my veal comes flavoured with Sichuan peppers, as if to remind my palate of the Chinese motifs that pop up all over the place in the decor.

I like the dining area best at breakfast time when coloured-glass ceiling panels take on a morning glow and sunlight winks off glassware. In these rich surrounds, the assortment of breads and rolls seems contrastingly austere. Actually, the chef will cook breakfast if I want but, to me, there's no more satisfying way to start the day in Paris than with the cracking of baguette crust, and fingers buttery from croissants.