A round-up post from Messy Nessy Chic has turned up a batch of historical oddities that double as travel inspiration — including a love letter to domino paper, the hand-printed sheets that wallpapered 18th-century France before wallpaper was even a thing.

Domino paper hit its golden age in the second half of the 1700s. Each sheet measured roughly 36 by 45 centimetres, printed from engraved wood blocks in a single ink — black, blue or red — then hand-coloured with brush or stencil by a craftsman called a dominotier. These were the everyday luxuries of their day: lining drawers, trunks, jewellery boxes and servants' quarters, and serving as endpapers and temporary covers for cherished books. France became the centre of the craft by the mid-to-late 18th century, though when the guild — officially recognised as far back as 1540 — pivoted from general prints to these patterned sheets is lost to history. It's a lovely thread for anyone who lingers in antique shops or the decorative arts rooms of French museums.

Elsewhere in the collection: an 1800 etui de voyage up for auction at Sotheby's, a gold, enamel and pearl-set travel case with a watch, music box and automaton, plus mounted scissors, a perfume vial and even a cuticle stick — the 18th-century elite's way of flexing on the road. There's also a photograph of Robert Doisneau's 1951 shot of the bouquinistes, the second-hand booksellers still lining the Seine today, and a Parisian apartment in the 10th arrondissement on the market for €1.65 million, flagged as a case for not over-renovating. For a lighter detour, Dr. Mark Leitman's ophthalmology office in East Brunswick, New Jersey, is packed with thousands of curiosities — he started collecting decades ago to calm nervous patients before eye exams.

History buffs get their fill too. Agnès Sorel, chief mistress of Charles VII and the first officially recognised royal mistress of a French king, popularised low-cut gowns so scandalous that the Archbishop of Reims complained about them in writing. She died at 28 in 1450 at Jumièges during a royal campaign — and a 2005 forensic study suggested mercury poisoning. And there's a nod to Mount Paltry in Australia, often called the world's smallest mountain: a bump of just a few metres that still technically qualifies.

So why should a traveller care? Because this is the kind of material that turns a standard city break into something richer. Knowing about domino paper gives you a reason to hunt the decorative arts collections of Paris; Doisneau's bouquinistes are still trading along the Seine's banks; and that 10th arrondissement listing is a window into the kind of Parisian interiors worth studying — original panelling, worn parquet and all. Even the Mount Paltry entry is a nudge to look closer at places that don't make the guidebooks.

Who's it for: collectors, Francophiles, anyone planning a Paris trip who wants depth beyond the Eiffel Tower queue, or browsers who enjoy a good rabbit hole through design and social history. Credit to Messy Nessy Chic.