50 - The Plaza Athenée on the auction block

THE PLAZA ATHENEE, Paris

Everything for sale, from the chandeliers to the pillowcases

The Plaza Athenée has just joined a line of famous Parisian hotels to shut down for an unlimited duration in order to rebuild and renovate and redecorate from head to foot.  Before completely closing its doors, the Plaza A. announced it would put everything (or just about) up for auction.

  Brenda and I were there bright and early for the first day’s viewing.  No special idea of buying anything, just another aspect of my hobby to be explored.  It was fun having the run of the place, exploring the backstairs and looking through some of the suites throughout the hotel.

In addition to the more predictable chairs and sofas and beds and tables and flowerpots, there was an unexpected concièrge’s letter box, several sleek red hotel bicycles and a few shiny chrome toilet paper dispensers awaiting the highest bidder.

We have had occasional contact with the hotel’s Relais Plaza Grill, and I was interested in seeing some of the things I knew well from that restaurant.  I had long admired a couple of very special art-déco-style vases which stood in the vestibule leading to the grill room. 

Favorite vase, it was not meant to be!

If we could have acquired just one of them, that might have made an extra special memento.   On closer examination, however, the degree of Hollywood-style make believe became increasingly obvious.  

Seen as a whole, everything blends together into a superbly chic creation which in turn becomes the personality of a grand hotel.  However, taken as individual items, the faux semblant is everywhere.  Everything is imitation, much like décors in a theatre or on a Hollywood backlot. 

When we enquired about the black and white vases we had fancied, we were a bit taken aback to discover they were in fact incorporated into the large sideboard they had adorned, so they couldn’t be removed … or stolen!  If we had really wanted the vase, we would have had to purchase the massive piece of furniture onto which it was permanently attached.  

Waiting for the doors to open the day of the sale

For the auction sale, itself, only the grandest address would do.  Although the pre-sale exhibit was conducted at the hotel, the sale was entrusted to the Artcurial auctioneers who have their sale rooms in a sumptuous 19^th century private mansion at the foot of the Champs-Elysées.  Visiting the auction house was even more glamorous than was strolling through the hotel.

  I liked the idea of acquiring a momento of the Plaza A., and of the multitude of things to go under the hammer, many of the pre-sale estimates were low.  Experience has taught me, however, you can never count on where auction prices might go.  In the case of a grand hotel sale, just about everything is a copy of something else.  That is, furniture and bric-a-brac are all of style-Louis XVI or style art-déco or style art-nouveau, but nothing is its own original contemporary era.  As a consequence, there is little intrinsic value to anything, all estimates take into account that the interest of potential buyers is generally sentimental and often one of passion.  So prices go where they go, and that can be sky high.

The auction house was almost more elegant than the hotel

This was indeed the case.  We had spotted a handsome statuette of a 1920’s style horse, which we had long admired in the restaurant’s entryway.  It was evaluated at 400 euros (which was already more than one would have generally thought of paying).  We got a little carried away, pooled our resources, and thought maybe about pushing it to 550 euros. 

Alas, the stylized, silvered bronze horse (which measured 13 inches high) sold for almost 4,500 dollars, plus another thousand in auction fees!  Needless to say, not to us! 

The last we'll ever see of our little horse!

Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

[Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

The Plaza Athenee was also featured in blog No. 33, "Breakfasts in the 1970's," and No. 44, "The Best and the Worst," and No. 45, "End of the Season Au Revoir"  (to access, click on above titles).

24 - Living it up on a budget

HOTEL BRISTOL, Paris

Sunday afternoon at the Bristol

Times are kind of hard, and some days we just have to face facts.    As I tell the grandchildren (which for some reason sends them into great gales of laughter):  “Money does not grow on trees!”

There haven’t been enough earnings lately finding their way into the coffers to justify much of a splurge.  Consequently, I figure I can count my blessings, savor  past memories (that’s what I’ve been doing these last months on “Hotel Musings”), and enjoy some of the cheaper deals out there.

Tea time

As high living goes, coffee at the Bristol must be the best value for money that Paris has to offer these days.  It is (relatively) cheap AND about as luxurious an afternoon’s outing as you could imagine.

  

Here’s the deal:  For just a tad over a ten-dollar bill (nine euros, to be exact), I invite you to enter the exquisite world of the rich and sometimes famous.

Fiona "at home" in lobby

Lorna on recent coffee tasting  expedition

The Bristol is arguably Paris' chic-est hotel address.  It reeks of understated elegance at its best, and is the home away from home of Robert de Niro, Angelina and Brad, Paul McCartney, to name but a few.  


A number of scenes from Woody Allen's popular "Midnight in Paris" were filmed here.

Originally a private mansion, it was already almost 200 years old when transformed into a luxury hotel in 1925.  It was named after the 4th Earl of Bristol, an Englishman  noted for his travels around Europe in the 18th century.

Brenda, a little touch-up

Former president Nicolas Sarkozy (as well as quite a few presidents before him) made the hotel's Epicure restaurant his canteen, stopping by regularly from his presidential offices across the street.

Nowadays, socialist president François Hollande would sooner be caught dead than publicly associated with such luxury, so there is little chance of running into him or any of his cabinet members.  It is said that key government members have been discouraged from patronizing the Bristol, and certainly are NEVER to be photographed there.

Coffee is served in the grand foyer-tea room-bar area, which is an extension of the main lobby.  If you wish to stay on budget, then it is mandatory to rigorously follow my instructions. 
 

The high-life version of a cup of coffee

Do not bother with the menu.  There is an abundance of tempting snacks, all sorts of mouth-watering desserts and an assortment of teas from the far corners of the globe.    Ignore all of the preceding. 

When the waiter arrives, just say:  “un café, s’il vous plait.”  [euuh  KAH-faye, SEEL voo play].  Naturally, you can say it in English, if you wish; but in that case, it is best to specify “an espresso coffee.”

In addition to a pretty heady environment of grand hotel aesthetics and celebrity comings and goings, here’s what you get:  one perfect Parisian espresso; one pretty little bottle of designer water; dainty old-fashioned, embroidered linen cocktail napkins; and --last but so not least--  an assortment of three, four or even six (depending on the mood of the day) delicious homemade chocolate candies.  All this to the accompaniment of discreet rippling chords from the resident harpist.

A tip is definitely not mandatory, as it is ostensibly always included in France.  However, you are not forbidden to leave the remaining one euro on the little silver dish.

Not bad as hotel lobbies go!

Follow-up on Fa-raon  

A recent coffee visit to the Bristol allowed us to check up on Fa-raon, the feline celebrity about whom I reported in a previous posting (see Nov. 23, 2012).  

Fa-raon, who has become an increasingly well known mascot at the Parisian palace,  appears to be doing better than ever.  He is seen here taking his afternoon snooze on the concièrge's desk.

Oblivious to his extraordinary good fortune and unimpressed by the hotel's roster of international movers and shakers, Fa-raon continues to take his lazy, pampered existence in his stride. 

Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

Next Friday:  "The importance of a morning suit ... putting on the Ritz"

  [Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

The Hotel Bristol and Fa-raon were also featured in:  blog No. 13, "Those silver-spooned children living the palace life" Nov. 23, 2012 (to access, click on above title).

3 - Peggy’s Trip to Paris 1972

HOTEL MEURICE, Paris

Restaurant Dali, Hotel Meurice 2012

   
        I had another encounter with the Hotel Meurice in those early days.  There remain only a few memory fragments, it was so long ago.  I think the reason I haven’t completely forgotten is that making my life and learning about life in Paris was of inordinate importance to me at that time.  My dream from the earliest moments here was to somehow become a Parisian.

Martha circa 1970

 Aunt Martha (true to my father’s grim predictions about squandering money) had somewhat fallen on hard times by the 1970’s.  Having reached retirement age, she found herself sufficiently in need of money to go back to work in the accounting department of a local gift soap emporium where she befriended Peggy, a college student working there during summer vacation.

Soon afterwards, Peggy decided on a trip to Paris, and Martha insisted she look me up.

She was traveling with an older woman as sort of a traveling companion.  I didn’t quite understand their relationship, other than Peggy had a strong, loudish, not very appealing personality, and it was clear that the other lady was footing the bills. I wasn't very taken with either of them.   I was invited for drinks at the Meurice where they were staying, a world I was still singularly unused to, but no longer intimidated by either.

We had a drink at the Meurice’s rooftop bar.  I’m glad I went, because that open-air terrace no longer exists --except, I believe, in one of the presidential penthouse suites-- and I fondly remember the impressive view of the Tuileries Gardens and the Place de la Concorde.

Painting of the Tuileries Gardens by Jules Herve

I was still quite poor.  I had moved from my Champs Elysées room to a minuscule studio apartment with toilet on the landing; I was young, and I had  friends who were equally poor, and life in my adopted city seemed close to perfect. 

 (It’s odd how many times over the years bits and pieces of Peggy and of that evening have passed through my mind, even though I hardly remember her face anymore.) 

She suddenly announced she was so smitten with Paris that she, too, was going to find a way to move here.

Yours Truly, 1971 (photo Ann Gazères)

In the decades I’ve lived in France, I have seen so many Americans arrive to make their lives here, only to throw up their arms in exasperation or anger a few months or a few years later.  It is not easy to learn a new language and understand another culture, and accept such a different way of life all at the same time.  

I was just about to warn her that life might not be quite so glamorous in a more humble neighborhood far from the Meurice.  She pre-empted my comments, by adding:  “And I wouldn’t dream of living in any other neighborhood than right here on the rue de Rivoli, and I would need at least 1000 square feet to house my furniture, and …."

You can fill in the blanks.   I have forgotten the details, but she continued to list just about everything that would make  living comfortable in, say, Palm Beach, and assuming Paris would naturally have to accommodate all of those American necessities.

I realized I would never have to worry about seeing Peggy settle in Paris, and of course she never did. 

The Meurice Reception Staff 2012

* * * * * * *

 

SIDEBAR:  PARIS’ BEST HAMBURGER 

The New York Times last year decreed the hamburger at the Meurice Hotel’s Dali Restaurant the best in Paris.

I did try it, and I did enjoy it.

If not absolutely the best in the world (Brenda and I find unbeatable  the more modestly priced cheeseburger at P.J. Clarke’s on 3rd Avenue in NYC), it is nevertheless very tasty, albeit among the most expensive. 

  

 Next week I’ll be talking about another memorable hamburger, one from the Weylin Hotel in New York in 1954.  That one cost at least ten times the price back in Aberdeen.  Today’s prize winning burger at the Meurice goes for just about ten times the price at a French MacDonald’s.    Not that the two are comparable.

In addition to Salvador Dali, who elected winter residence in the old royal suite for the last thirty years of his life, the hotel has boasted guests ranging from Mata Hari to the Shah of Iran to Franklin D. Roosevelt, though not at the same time.  More comtemporary patrons include pop icons Madonna and Beyonce.

After many years of discreet decline, The Meurice is today back in tip-top form and a model of European elegance.  Already in 1935, the French poet Léon-Paul Fargue, known for his bon mots, divided Parisian hotels into three categories:  “poor, good and the Meurice!”

(photo:  The Sunday Herald Sun)

 

... When Salvador Dali reigned supreme

My friend Joel Fletcher, art dealer in Fredricksburg, Virginia, author and grand raconteur, tells an amusing story situated in the Meurice at just about the same time that I discovered it. 

He recounted it beautifully in his blog “Beating Austerity in the Kitchen” (beatingausterity.blogspot.com).   It’s about Salvador Dali and the Countess von Oldekop-Auberjonois.  If you are curious, here is a link to his blog (but don’t forget to come back to mine next week): 

http://beatingausterity.blogspot.fr/search?q=Meurice

Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

Next Friday:  "A Two-Dollar Hamburger Under A Silvery Dome"

[photos are mine unless otherwise credited]