The long-awaited two-story Printemps has opened in Fidi — the French “not a department store” with fancy wares, over-the-top design, and five food and drink spaces overseen by Top Chef’s Gregory Gourdet, with Kent Hospitality Group handling the restaurant operations.

The options include a pastry shop selling Haitian hot chocolate called Café Jalu; the second-floor raw bar Salon Vert; a champagne bar; and the gorgeous, landmarked space housing Red Room Bar (which was not open when I visited during the day). Gourdet’s fine-dining anchor, Maison Passerelle, debuts in mid-April. Gourdet is also the chef and owner of Portland’s Kann — a James Beard Best New Restaurant winner in 2023. Before that, he worked in Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s empire for nearly a decade.

When I visited Printemps around 2 p.m. on Wednesday, I met multiple dogs and their owners — including a Great Dane named Ralph Lauren. None had ventured down the narrow, minimalist corridor lined with makeup brands like Victoria Beckham. At the far side of this area, there’s a three-seat champagne bar with pink bauble accents, perpendicular to a series of private, cordoned-off spa chairs. I hear you’ll be able to drink champagne as you walk around the store; this bar slip strikes me as a place where you would sit and drink bubbles as you’re spending tons of money. It is, after all, a stone’s throw from the couture room.

While I bypassed the champagne bar, I did have lunch at the raw bar Salon Vert — named for the Paris restaurant, Café Vert — and as it’s close to where I work, I am sure I will go back.

Heather Willensky/Salon Vert

The vibe: It is a scene. You pretty much have to — and will want to — walk around the store to get to the food and drink destinations. The design details are lush, from the elaborate riff on a New York tin ceiling to the shiny mosaic floors. Near the entrance, items like stacked-heel red patent-leather shoes on a pedestal compete for attention with a $1,000 pair of tabi ballerinas. A mannequin wearing an ochre dress dons a “Hair Force” sweatshirt next to a display of spring jackets. One employee wore a black Adidas dress with a train and what looked like black moon boots. Upstairs, a second-floor vault opens into a dressing room lounge inspired by Art Deco French artist and designer Erté.

There’s a Wonka-esque maximalism to Laura Gonzalez’s designs, interweaving circus-like elements such as a row of daffodil-colored tent dressing rooms, or the green-pleated ceiling of what looks like a fancy big top inside pastry shop Café Jalu.

On the second floor just off the escalator, Salon Vert is all about the bar: Brass lighting combined with the brass footrail frame the room. Forest-green tiles behind the bar feature a peony pattern, while pink, white, and maroon stripes align the bar. A plate-glass window overlooks Broadway, softened by columns of glass bricks. Diners wear anything from a Burberry trench coat to a t-shirt and ball cap. A pup sits on one diner’s lap.

Heather Willensky/Salon Vert

The food: As a raw bar, this is first and foremost a place to drink and snack. You can tell Gourdet’s cooking has been influenced by Jean-Georges. Many elements reminded me of abcV, diverging from that format with ingredients, seasonings, and stories rooted in the Caribbean and Africa. Among starters, the oysters are sweet and delicate ($26/$52). A Creole shrimp cocktail comes with a habanero and horseradish kick ($32). A crab remoulade channels a mid-century ladies-who-lunch seafood salad, elevated by peekytoe crab, gem lettuce, caramelized onion, and herbs ($42). A restrained mussels escabeche is seasoned with the Moroccan-leaning ras el hanout, each crustacean pulled from its shell and placed atop a sliced fingerling potato ($24). The oeufs mayonnaise punch above their one-bite size, seasoned with pepper and lime ($19), with a tiny anchovy and chive positioned like flags.

My favorite two dishes were vegetarian: A velvety sweet potato and plantain soup brightened with a hint of scotch bonnets and softened with cinnamon. The interplay of ginger and pickled apples made it memorable ($12, $16). Another dish of roasted cauliflower ($17) defied the vegetable’s boring reputation, served with a Haitian spin on green goddess, dotted with okra and pickled chiles. The flavors were bold and harmonious, and the cauliflower was tender.

Tips: Champagne is the pour of choice, though there are plenty of nonalcoholic options here, including a full list of sparkling drinks. The bubbles I chose at lunch — it was a workday, after all — featured lacto-fermented rhubarb: I didn’t even miss the booze.