Travel guide for France and Paris. Chris Card Fuller went looking for a place in Paris where you can get dressed up and drink a cocktail in luxurious …
It sounds easy in the guidebooks. You can read about all the ‘in spots’. But what if you want to find a place in Paris where you can get dressed up, drink a cocktail in luxurious surroundings, listen to music played at a decibel level that allows intimate conversation, and maybe even dance?
We probably shouldn’t have started with Hotel Costes. I wanted Chris (on our ninth wedding anniversary) to savor the lush interior which would be the perfect backdrop for a “Victoria’s Secret” shoot. We dropped in during our afternoon Right Bank walk at this discreet Rue Saint Honore hotel/restaurant/watering hole for the Beautiful, Famous, Monied People.
After politely asking about the possibility of stopping in for a few drinks later in the evening, the hostess gave us a card and suggested we call first. Red flag! When we did call, the “bar was being used only for dining this evening, so there would be no places available for drinks”.
This was my second attempt to obtain the ‘privilege’ of having a drink at this hotel. You are probably saying, “Why bother?”
Scorned by the Right Bank, we opted for the Left Bank.
“How about something touristy but bound to have a stupendous view?” I asked Chris.
The 56th floor restaurant and bar, Le Ciel de Paris, at La Tour Montparnasse offers you the City of Lights with its haughty view of the twinkling Eiffel Tower. Even the most blasé jaw must drop at the first glimpse of the Eiffel from this exalted perspective.
The hostess and Maitre d’hotel are both friendly and accommodating. One drink will set you back ten to fifteen euros, but you’d pay as much for the ride up to the top of the tower to see the same spectacular view minus music and confortable chairs.
The waiter presented me with a perfectly mixed dry martini. What more could one ask for?
Considering we were on a winning streak, I suggested we try one more Left Bank hotel bar. We could have walked over to the Meridian whose restaurant has earned a reputation for superlative cuisine, but I had always been curious about the Lutetia Hotel located on Boulevard Raspail. This Art Nouveau style hotel carried the stigma of being a former Nazi headquarters during World War II, but redeemed itself as the lieu where surviving Jewish concentration camp victims reunited with their families.
Musician, composer, and artist, Werner Bernstein, and his wife Eva, used to come here when they visited Paris. Although you may never have heard of Werner and Eva Bernstein (they’re not famous) I can assure you that they were the authentic “Beautiful People”.
The taxi driver didn’t want to take us to the Lutetia.
“It’s too close!” he complained. “It’s walking distance.”
We didn’t budge. He resignedly turned on the meter and took us to our destination – four minutes driving time.
First we’d been refused drinks at Hotel Costes. Then the taxi driver tried refusing to take us to the Lutetia Hotel (See my Paris Guide regarding refusals – don’t say anything and don’t move – just wait until “no” turns to “yes”.) Tonight must have been the night of refusals, but not at the Lutetia. The bar was practically empty of customers and the three bartenders served us royally. On other nights, there would have been music, but tonight being May 1st (Labor Day), the musicians had taken the night off.
In many ways the Lutetia is the antithesis of glitz – the developers apparently haven’t gotten around to giving her a face lift. Which is a good thing – although probably fleeting. We have seen so many hotels lose their ‘old hotel spirits’ with makeovers like Raffles in Singapore, the Peninsula in Hong Kong, the Imperial in New Delhi and locally, the Hotel Vendome, former Texan Embassy (yes, Texas used to be a republic!) located on Place Vendome. Its rooms once filled with authentically frayed antique furniture have all been modernized and the lobbies marbelized. The prices have been hoisted to offset the redecoration and our once cozy version of the Ritz is history.
Fortunately, the Lutetia still oozes authenticity and some wear. The bar is comfy like an old shoe – as far astray as you can get from the Costes’s splashy entrance. The bar crowd that eventually straggles in is a mix of well-dressed and not-so-well dressed hotel guests. One woman’s voice dominates a table of six in the corner, her Eliza Doolittle vowels sounding like the cat no one would let out. At another table, I hear German being spoken.
This may not have been the ideal spot to get dressed up for a night on the town, but if anything it seemed a symbolic juxtaposition: Here I was drinking a Red Russian in former Nazi headquarters on May 1st in Paris with Le Pen and Chirac poised to slug it out any day now in the second round of presidential elections.
I reviewed our evening’s progression starting with Hotel Costes refusal to serve us drinks and felt suddenly in synch with the dozens of well-dressed, refined Jewish couples, African Americans, Italians, Irish, who had been refused entrance to hotels and resorts and neighborhoods back when America was younger and more foolish.
My quest for the ideal watering hole in Paris was slowly but surely turning into a quest for harmony. After one martini and one Red Russian, Paris was starting to look rosy.
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