The Importance of a Morning Suit

THE RITZ HOTEL, Paris

The Ritz' Espadon restaurant, summer terrace  (2010)

Years ago, long before I made my life with Brenda, I discovered the Ritz Hotel’s wonderful business luncheon.  The chef proposed everything that was the best of the day:  tasters, starter, main course, cheese, dessert, coffee and more sweets.  And all this for about 50 dollars (this is going back a few years). 

I became quite a regular client, often lunching solo.

Luigi, the host-maître d’hôtel, always seemed delighted to see me.  On this particular day some twenty years ago I vaguely sensed something changed.

Star chef Michel Roth in Ritz kitchen

 I was attuned to the fact that a new gentleman in morning suit was participating in the service.  I knew that each level of command in the French hotel hierarchy carried with it a precise category of clothing, and as I understood that the morning suit indicated top man, I was surprised to see that Luigi –surely the chief maitre d’hotel—was dressed in a simple, dark suit.

I was just making idle conversation and had no inkling of reopening a dramatic wound.  When I clumsily asked why he wasn’t wearing his morning suit, I thought he was going to burst into tears.

« You have noticed, of course, that I am no longer … », he seemed unable to finish, and injected a brave smile.  « Yes, the man you saw earlier is the chief, the new director. »

« But surely you are the head of the waiters, » I ventured, not knowing how to back up, having uncovered this indelicate can of worms.

Classic morning suit in 1898 watercolor

 « You see, during two years, there was no director, » he said, as though delighted in the complicity of a client who had finally noticed. «So I was like the acting head.  And now with the appointment of this man, I am no longer anything.  And to make sure that I understand perfectly what has happened to me, I have been instructed to return my morning suit. »

I sincerely commiserated and said how unjust this all seemed.

Towards the end of the meal, Luigi returned to say how much my comments had meant to him, how rare it was to hear when people were happy with the restaurant.  He said it was disheartening how many people wrote to say bad things.  Just that week someone had written about a lunch months earlier, criticizing the service as well as the food.    I asked how much weight this kind of condemnation held, and he said it could be enormous.

L'Espadon (watercolor by B.Redmond)

 When I said that my tendency was simply not to return to a hotel or restaurant when unhappy, but that I loved to write when the experience was outstanding, his eyes lit up.   He didn’t quite dare say anything immediately, but before I left, he managed to convey in the most discreet and delicate manner how much a complimentary letter sent to the right person could mean in his precarious situation.

I was more than happy to oblige.  Even though it didn’t get his morning suit back, my letter apparently did give a certain boost to Luigi’s professional self esteem and cemented an enduring complicity between us until his retirement several years ago.

L'Espadon Restaurant in 1955, unidentified gentleman in foreground  (Google photo)

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

[Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

The Ritz Hotel was also featured in sidebar for blog No. 18, "Cesar Ritz" Dec. 28, 2012  (to access, click on above title).

Those Silver-Spooned Children Living the Grand Hotel Life

  

The little girl in red, Gritti Palace 1991

    Watching silver-spooned children living the supreme grand hotel experience somehow underscores the simplicity of my own childhood, growing up in Aberdeen.

I never cease to be amazed when I see young children at grand hotels.  It’s a kind of life I couldn’t have imagined as a little boy, although I would have loved it.  That being said, had I grown up in such a pampered environment, then my special hotels today certainly wouldn’t seem nearly so special.

It was Christmas of 1991 at the Gritti Palace in Venice when I saw the beautiful little girl in the red dress.  Of that visit, it is that elegant, sophisticated child who sticks in my mind.  She’d be almost middle-aged today; I wonder what kind of life she leads.

* * * * * * * *

On our last stay at Claridges in London, just before leaving for the train station, we had checked out and were waiting in the lobby.  Brenda was getting more and more anxious to slip into the restroom, but every time she tried, there seemed to be a surprisingly young crowd blocking the door.

Claridge's Hotel 2010

We suddenly realized the entire teatime area was filled with all of these tiny pre-school children.  Soon we were surrounded by dozens of elegantly attired tots with their even more elegantly attired mommies coming into the lobby from all directions.

It turned out Claridge’s was host to the FIRST birthday of one of the little tykes and about sixty of her closest and dearest friends.  It made for a colorful and stimulating Sunday afternoon ambiance.  Pity the camera was all packed away!

* * * * * * *

Here are a few photos of the younger generation spotted at some special addresses.

Emma and Nathan are Brenda’s grandchildren and mine by adoption.  They definitely were not born with a silver spoon, nor do they have one now.  However, at eight years old, one gets accustomed to things fast.  Here they are enjoying ice cream a while back  in the Paris Ritz gardens.

 Christmas vacation, young hotel residents ice skating in the newly-created rink at the very luxurious Plaza Athenée in Paris. 

Checkout time for this Japanese
family at the Paris Ritz

Unidentified cutups, Hotel New York, Rotterdam

Little girl enraptured with cat in the gardens of the Hotel Bristol in Paris.  I had assumed it was hers, but in fact "Fa-Raon" belongs to the luxury palace and is something of a hotel mascot.

 Youngster undoubtedly unimpressed by the cushioned hotel atmosphere as he enters the Plaza Athenée on his little scooter!

Eloise and vintage photo of the Plaza (photo google)

Last but not least, do not forget hoteldom's most famous youngster, Eloise, whose adventures at the New York Plaza have been chronicled in five best-selling children's books.  Written by the late Kay Thompson, Eloise is a six year-old living in a room on the "tippy-top floor" of the Plaza with her nanny, her pug dog Weenie, and her turtle Skipperdee.  Thompson's goddaughter, Liza Minnelli, has frequently been cited as the original model for the mischevious title character.

Your input is welcomed:  frank.pleasants@libertysurf.fr

[Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

Ginger and me !

THE SAVOY, London
(This posting originally appeared in March 2013)

Ginger Rogers in Drury Lane dressing room 1969

Seen in her "bow gown" donned solely for curtain calls (Google photo)

      

     My arrival in London 45 years ago coincided --by sheer coincidence, I might add-- with that of Ginger Rogers, who had contracted at a record-breaking salary to star in the Broadway musical "Mame" at the Drury Lane Theatre.  

Southampton arrival with 5th husband Bill Marshall

     Disembarking at Southhampton from Cunard's spanking new QE2, one hundred-odd members of the press and a few celebrity guests joined her for the trip to London on the "Mame Express," a vintage train rented for the occasion with a champagne fountain and showing the 1935 Astaire-Rogers classic "Top Hat." 

   The whole over-the-top entourage headed for the Savoy Hotel where Ginger was shown into her new digs, rebaptized the Ginger Rogers Suite.  She remained in her six-room apartment there for over a month.  

 The exact same week found me arriving (via Reykjavik, Luxembourg and Paris) to make my life in London, fresh off Icelandic Airways, which in those days was pretty much the polar opposite of an ocean liner crossing.

 I initially stayed at the Dorset Square, at that time still un inexpensive, exceedingly simple neighborhood hotel.  It was there by the sheerest luck that I discovered directly across the square a grand, though tired Georgian mansion. 

Gilbert, Dorset Square 1969

 Gilbert, the owner-landlord, was a somewhat down-at-the-heels aristocrat, who barely managed to make ends meet by renting out most of his home.  He had once worked for the BCC, and tended to speak with his teeth clenched and mouth almost shut.  He sounded to my ears much like the Duke of Windsor.  

I rented an undistinguished room with an inefficient gas heater requiring a steady stream of sixpence pieces.  It was there that my path sort of crossed that of Ginger Rogers.

Jon

   Jon, a singer in "Mame", lived across the hall.  As I was out of work and almost out of money, he arranged for me to have occasional employment as "dresser" for six of the company dancers.  I was only needed for certain afternoon performances, and the pay was way beneath minimum wage (I seem to remember it being one pound per performance!)

  It was a union regulation that someone be present in each dressing room to make tea and sweep the floor.  As it turned out, I didn't know how to make tea, and I was told not to bother with the broom.  It was just one of those crazy union rules that required a presence.  I loved every minute of my life in show business.

In rehearsal (Google)

 During much of the show I enjoyed watching the musical numbers from the wings.  Freshly embarked from my native North Carolina, I have rarely felt so sophisticated and worldly as I did standing backstage at the Drury Lane Theatre.

 Ginger was the toast of London and "Mame" the flavor of the month.  Though I frequently captured a glimpse of the aging star and occasionally caught bits of her conversations with others, our paths still didn't officially cross quite yet.  

It was many months later, after having found employment at United Press International, that I actually had an unforgettable (for me, not for her) dinner-interview with the Academy Award-winning actress.  It was at the then-trendy restaurant Inigo Jones, and I recall her ordering a "rare-rare" steak which she then proceeded to send back for being too rare.

I particularly remember her telling me that the "dear Queen" (she tended to overuse adjectives like "dear" and "sweet") had told her that she and her little sister Margaret had seen all of the Astaire-Rogers musicals as little girls in the palace projection room.  

Ginger with Mom on opening night (Corbis Images)

One thing about wire services, they do service the world, and my little article, which was a lesson in banality, was nevertheless picked up by hundreds of newspapers across the globe.  This was obviously more a tribute to G.R.'s star power than to any journalistic prowess on my part.  

As an indirect result, I later found myself tete-a-tete with the actress at her luxurious St. Johns Wood apartment.  For reasons which I will spare myself the embarrassment of explaining, she had invited me there for tea. 

With Queen Elizabeth II and singer Tom Jones (Google)

 I offered her some hippy "love beads" made from watermelon seeds which my Greensboro friend Dottie Benjamin had given me.  I think she didn't quite know what to say, so she called her old Polish maid in to take a look.  I fear they may have exchanged knowing glances about the mental equilibrium of her guest.  

Whether that was the case or not, I was fairly crazy at the time, and I certainly did not manage to cement a lasting friendship.  

That was the last time I ever saw G.R, though I followed her waning career with enthusiasm, always tending to think of her a little like an old friend.     

To watch a six-minute video of the title number of Mame as performed for the Queen at the Royal Variety Performance in 1969, click on above photo.

Your input is welcomed:  frank.pleasants@libertysurf.fr

[Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

The Savoy Hotel was also featured in sidebar for blog No. 13, "Kaspar, the Savoy's Black Cat" Nov. 11, 2012; and blog No. 27, "Stompin' at the Savoy," March 8, 2013  (to access, click on above titles).