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Housed in Prefecture 48, a three-level, six-venue hub in the Sydney CBD created by Japanese-inspired hospitality group Azabu, Dear Florence, a patisserie helmed by Irish chef Aoife Noonan, is reminiscent of a jewellery store.

Entry is via a cobblestoned cartway, lit by artist Hitoshi Kuriyama’s 0=1, a fluorescent light and glass tube artwork twirling cosmically along the ceiling.

Turn left midway for walls swiped with plaster resembling cake icing, a floor of pooling cream hues and a room of cakes and tarts displayed in glass cabinets or atop an ice-covered marble slab.

Dear Florence, which is named after Azabu’s founder’s daughter, is what I imagine browsing in a Chanel boutique is like – except here you can eat the merchandise.

It is not a cafe. There are no tables or plates, and no coffee machine. This is a place to ponder exquisite patisserie developed, designed and created byNoonan, formerly head pastry chef at Aria and at two-Michelin-starred Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud in Ireland.

Each cake or tart resembles a splendid rare brooch or striking sculpture, carved, modelled, shaped and cooked somehow from eggs, flour, fruit, sugar and chocolate, among other ingredients.

Take the Dream, a small plump cloud-like cake topped with flower petals and a droplet of rosewater gel. Made from vanilla genoise sponge, white chocolate feuilletine (flakes formed from crushed baked crepes), rhubarb confit, mascarpone rose mousse, raspberry confiture (jam-like but lighter in consistency) and champagne jelly, it is soft like a cumulus. Its curves of soft creamy mousse open to a brilliant, fruity raspberry interior that tangs with freshness.

Then there’s the Honey cake, a ribbed orb of creme fraiche mousse encircling honey sponge and caramel creme, its top daubed with fresh apricot wearing a party hat-like festoon of gold leaf.

Poke it gently. The mousse bounces like a baby’s cheek until you swipe a spoon through to reveal sponge and cream layers, inspired by Russian honey cake, beneath a dome of apricot vanilla confit.

What stands out, and is a passion for Noonan, is that each cake or tart is built on taste. Spectacular in design, and blending the elegance of French patisserie with the artistry of Japanese-inspired flavours, the wallop of flavour and zing of matched ingredients is not sacrificed.

Noonan, who also trained in Japan and at Valrhona L’Ecole du Chocolat in Paris, says every patisserie item is inspired by its components.

“I think about the flavour first,” she says. “And the combination. Then the textures and how they will either contrast or complement each other.”

The shape, style and presentation, particularly exemplified in the Maro, a dark chocolate, hazelnut, lemon and caramel cake that resembles an origami diamond, come afterwards.

Order this, also available in a large size, and Noonan’s favourite tart, the strawberry, sudachi and olive tart. Mine is the plum, hibiscus tea and blackcurrant tart, rich, tartly fruity and crowned with dark red plum slivers wrapped in petal-like layers resembling an almost blooming flower.

“Each cake has its own story,” Noon says. “The Dream, for example, it evolves with the seasons, similar to how our hopes and dreams evolve. We wanted that to be part of the Dream cake. The outside looks like a cloud but the inside will change and evolve as we grow.”

Visiting Dear Florence, which fronts P48’s home in the historic, circa 1886 warehouses of Foley Bros Creamery Butter Factory, is meeting haute couture in cake form.

Prices range from $17/$45 for small or medium tarts and $24/$72/$85 for small or large cakes, and the patisseries, offered alongside granola, chocolate and nut products, are presented in white paper box bags with black cord handles and a choice of colour ribbon.

The experience is dreamy and fancy but, because of Noonan’s skill and creativity, rewarding to eat. Just take your time. These are not cakes or tarts to wolf down, such is their creamy richness. Do not eat six in one day.

Noonan, who is at Dear Florence every day, working in the adjoining kitchen or on the floor talking with customers, says her love of patisserie stems partly from its precision.

“It’s a science and very technical,” she says.

“But there’s also something really playful about it that you can have fun with. It’s the last thing you eat. It’s the end of a meal. It’s what people remember.”

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.