by There are only a few certainties in life, but the Paris Fashion Week is one of them. Every March, the city of lighting conditions shines in the front row with another season of editors and celebrities to record the latest designs. It’s always nice. It’s always chaotic. This year I was lucky enough to find a break in a hotel that has the feeling that from the same rich fabric as the style of the city itself was too fond: Hôtel Barrère Le Fouquets.
Fouquet’s leads this rare Paris paradox of the old school, but never old-fashioned. The moment I passed the all -round red awnings into the painted lobby, which was in gold and velvet, I knew that this would not be just a place to sleep. It was my home for the next eleven days.
My room-elegant, sun suddenly and far more spacious than any other in which I stayed in Paris-a degree in a reserved glamor. With crispy bed linen, a covering area that I immediately filled with shoes and showloads, and a bathroom that – permissible – explained long soaks, I started to go before the week before the week officially started.
Every evening I returned from shows and repetitions to my place in the main dish room after long days. It became my nightly ritual: a glass of wine and fries fries. The room itself felt like a Broadway theater on the opening evening – Banquettes from Velvet, mirror boards and a rotation of incredibly chic guests. With the calm satisfaction of someone who has a seat in the first row in Paris himself, I looked around in a corner cabin.
But the best -kept secret of the hotel? A speakeasy hid between the lobby and the restaurant. It was its own world with walls, furniture and a blanket that was all dressed in the same bold, pink printed fabric. The experience of the secret space, like my entire trip, was consistent, thoughtful and surreal – the kind of stay in which you feel like you have been left to something.
Only in my last day did I discover the terrace – over a narrow, winding staircase that I had somehow missed every day. A true farewell gift. I was sitting there for a last breakfast and promised myself to come back.
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