La Lutetia - a fairytale for our time

Posted by Isabel Dexter at 01:29 on 10 Dec 2009

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Once upon a time, in the city of lights a poor little English Girl in a one dollar lace dress and last season's shoes was granted one night at the palace of Lutetia. There would be a multitude of feather pillows, pure-as-her-heart white fluffy towels, a chic piano bar, an oversize bath tub, polished wood everywhere, a selection of Elton John tunes and ever flowing champagne. The balcony boasted a view of the Eiffel tower and there were art deco sculptures and art in the foyer.

In other words, full on beautiful. The thing with these hotels is... and I really don't want to sound spoilt (I am, I know... but the rest of the time I can barely afford to buy myself a pain au chocolat so please bare with me) is that after a while you sort of forget where you are staying. You can see it mostly with couples (they are usually couples and he is usually at least ten years older than her) who are going about their business of ignoring each other, squabbling a little, looking bored. In other words exactly the same as if they were sipping sangria in a ClubMed resort in Marbella or stuck in traffic on the M25.  As soon as I can see myself becoming like this - a little smug, a little disillusioned, even more high maintenance than Mariah Carey ("even my entourage has an entourage") I try and do that 'count your blessings' malarky that I practically had hammered into me as a child. You know, you start with five things you are thankful for and then five people.....so at the Lutetia the five things were as follows:

1. The gorgeous art deco design, especially in the piano bar.
2. The spa was possibly the best I've been to in a long long time. Sometimes hotel spas are quite impersonal, but this one was super friendly and yet still discreet (oh the most highly prized of all compliments in Paris!) and luxurious.
3. The ex-guests - Josephine Baker stayed here, as did Matisse and Charles de Gaulle (on his wedding night)
4. The fact the hotel is well-known for supporting art.  There are Thierry Bisch paintings scattered around, as well as a gorgeous cigar chest in the Ernest Bar by the sculptor Philippe Hiquily.
5. Catherine Deneuve used to call the Lutetia her second office.
6. Ok I know I said five, but I so adore this hotel. The staff were ultra nice, even when I was getting a bit Mariah. Plus they bought me extra chairs and glasses for my guests, which I think is above and beyond the call of duty.

But actually my absolute favourite thing about staying in such a beautiful place is the look of awe and wonderment on the faces of my friends when they walk in the foyer. Or see the bathroom (especially the girls). Or take photos to post on their facebooks. Having said that I am starting to consider rotating my friends now as they are getting a little high maintence too. "Well it's not the Crillon"  and "do you have a suite or is it just a room?".  Surely this never happened at The Waltons' house? Frankly it just goes to show how quickly we get used to being treated like we can have everything we ask for.  I can almost understand The Devil Wears Prada-wannabe fashion editor I worked for at a glossy magazine who made me take back her hot chocolate because it wasn't hot or frothy enough. This would have been bad enough but it was three hours after I'd bought it. Despite being on a smaller salary than her annual 'gifts for PRs allowance' I decided I'd rather buy her another drink than risk the humiliation of explaining the situation to my 'friend' at Cafe Nero.

Despite the lure of ingratitude, in an ideal world I actually want to live in a hotel. I know people think it'd be impersonal and strange without any of your furnishings, books etc around you but there is something refreshingly cleansing about it as well.  Like only taking three things to a desert island but in this case not having to worry if you have forgotten mineral water/On The Road/ the final series of Skins because you can just get them to send you one up. (spoiled? moi?) The anonymity is soothing as is the idea of being looked after. Anywhere you can pick up the phone and request an extra chair/ashtray/bottle opener/mini hamburger for 20 euros  is good by me. I try to make up for this diva tendency by being ultra all-American style friendly to the people who work there and by chatting to strangers in the lift, like an unpaid door girl (I press the buttons too. The ones on the lift I mean... what were you thinking?)

 I wonder if it's possible to be the sort of girl who lives in a hotel without being the sort of girl who lives in hotels (basically monied little rich girl, messed-up LiLo-esque celebutante, bored wife of incredibly wealthy diplomat with awful moustache, strung out business woman who is either staying in the hotel to have an affair or because she lives alone, or high end prostitute clad in Coco de Mer.) Labels, daaarling, labels.

Top photo courtesy of Lutetia
Bottom photo by Quentin Cherrier

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