There is a certain, redoubtable logic to fishing where the fish are. Thus, the Marais — Paris’s gay mecca, the rough equivalent in demography (if not style) of New York’s Chelsea or West Hollywood in Los Angeles — has lately been filling with designer stores catering to the stylish men who fill its streets. Along the Rue des Archives are men’s boutiques from Gucci, Fendi, Moncler and, at No. 13, Givenchy.


Under Riccardo Tisci, its artistic director, Givenchy has become one of the fetishes of fashion. Young men — and young women — have cottoned to Mr. Tisci’s aggressive prints (snarling Rottweilers, spliced-up Bambi, stars and stripes in sometimes putrid shades) as tribal totems, snatching them up on T-shirts and bags, footwear and small leather goods.


The coppery gates of the Givenchy store and the walls of leather totes that line the entrance give little hint of Mr. Tisci’s streetwear leanings. For that, shoppers will have to venture past the poured-concrete cases of sunglasses and jewelry to a white-tiled room, glaringly bright and apparently meant to suggest the subway (or a well-scrubbed men’s room).


There, the shelves are lined with star-spangled sneakers and snack-size goodies printed with Mr. Tisci’s favorite motifs, new and familiar alike. The Rottweilers have been snarling at Givenchy since Mr. Tisci introduced them in 2011; here, you can find them on a pair of flip-flop sandals for just over $200.


On the second floor, the store resembles a chic Parisian apartment, with herringbone wood floors, marble fireplaces and Jean Prouvé furniture, including a beautiful daybed in hospital green. (Books on Prouvé’s oeuvre are available for the unschooled.) That the store feels a few arrondissements away from the sneaker display below is the point: Givenchy has its aristocratic moments as well as its tougher ones.


The real potency of Givenchy — and of the store, which opened in the spring — is the way the two sides come together. Mr. Tisci would have the Givenchy man wear his suit with a black leather backpack (utilitarian, but for the nearly $2,600 price tag) and combat boots. Or perhaps with one of the earrings that he has made cult items out of, which close by magnet rather than requiring a pierced ear.


The ones recently glimpsed on his runways are shaped like saber-tooth tusks. They come in versions rhinestone-studded (about $450) and plain (about $375). They continue, a store associate said, to sell briskly, and no surprise. They meld Givenchy’s haute history with something sharper, jewelry with bite.


“C’est très Givenchy,” the associate said, nodding solemnly.