52 - Lunching in Style, three hotel dining rooms

THE PRINCE DE GALLES, THE SAN REGIS, and THE LANCASTER, Paris

 

The new bar at the Prince de Galles

Paris is full of intimate luxury hotels, and some of the lesser known ones increasingly hide unexpectedly fine restaurants with competitive lunchtime menus.   Here are three which I’ve sampled recently.

The Hotel Prince de Galles (named after the Prince of Wales who later became the Duke of Windsor, after abdicating his title of King of England) has been one of Paris’ smaller grand hotels since it opened in 1929 with some stunning art-déco architecture, particularly its Moroccan-style interior garden which has been classified a national treasure and consequently cannot be altered.  Winston Churchill elected residence at the "Prince" in its early years, and Elvis Presley later spent several weekends while serving in the army in Germany.

Lana (MGM photo)

  Lana Turner used to stay there, though most of the top film stars preferred the larger, better known George V which stands next door and now belongs to the Four Seasons.  Until recent years the Prince de Galles lobby boasted a sumptuous oil painting of the Hollywood star in her prime.

Early Agassi (Google)

I once had breakfast in its garden restaurant with the tennis star, Andre Agassi.  Well, not at the same table, though in fact, he talked so loudly we might as well have been.  He was in the first flush of success, and was in Paris competing in the French Open at Roland Garros Stadium.  He didn’t win that year, and it was rumored that a transatlantic rift with Barbra Streisand had distracted him.   

The Prince de Galles, now managed by the Orient Express Company, has recently reopened after a long period of renovation, and is again in pristine condition.

A particularly succelent fish dish at the Prince de Galles 

Stephanie Le Quellec, a young French chef, has taken over the hotel’s kitchens, and she is creating considerable buzz with her inventive cuisine.  We recently sampled her three-course lunch, and it was well worth the detour.

* * * * * * * *

The Hotel San Régis is more discreetly located and less well known than the mainstay  Prince de Galles.  Virtually hidden on a little street in back of Avenue Montaigne with its couturier shops and luxury apartment buildings, it is not an address for anyone seeking to call attention to themselves.  So Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan might well prefer to look elsewhere.

Brenda nursing a coffee at the St. Regis

  
Candice Bergen, who like Jane Fonda, lived and acted with success in French movies at the beginning of her career, has often resided at the San Regis.  As have Lauren Bacall and Leslie Caron.   
                                                                                
Originally constructed as a private mansion in 1857, it was transformed in 1923 by the then-owner of the famed restaurant La Tour d’Argent.  Today you get very much the feeling of being in a luxurious country home. 

Partial view of San Regis' intimate restaurant and tearoom

 
Restaurant chef Christophe Lecricolais offers a daily luncheon menu which we recently tried with pleasure.  If less spectacular from a culinary point of view than the Prince de Galles, the hotel’s restaurant is so aesthetically entrancing, snuggled inside its glass ceiling conservatory, that it is worth the visit just for that.   A viable alternative would be to stop by at teatime.  

Lorna passing through the San Regis

* * * * * * * *

The Table du Lancaster is probably the best known of these three luncheon venues. Having already garnered a well-deserved star in the Michelin guide, this intimate dining room is a considerable success and is often fully booked.    

Special presentation of its luncheon menu

Originally the private mansion of a Spanish millionaire, built in 1889, The Lancaster was transformed into an art-deco hotel in 1930.  It was a favorite of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton when each were filming in Paris in the late sixties.  Decades earlier,  it served as the frequent Paris address of both Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo.

Sitting room at The Lancaster

The Lancaster, which tags itself Paris' "intimate palace",  has in recent years had to cope with the declining prestige of its once grand Champs-Elysees neighborhood address.  The world famous avenue still shines with glamor on travel brochures and in many tourists' memories, but in reality it has gone through some pretty rough times, with less and less discerning shops and cafes, and gangs of revelers and druggies often taking over late at  night. 

The newly redone Lancaster bar, opening onto a summer garden patio

 The municipality of Paris has, however, recently poured considerable money into enhancing the avenue and beefing up police protection in a mostly successful effort to put back some of its lost luster.  The Lancaster, which is not directly on the avenue, but a few steps toward a more tranquil neighborhood, has at the same time poured millions into its hotel, maintaining and improving its image to the point that today it stands again as the equal of most of the city's grand hotels.
 

Raspberry dessert at The Lancaster

The Table du Lancaster has the extra advantage of setting up tables in its elegant outdoor garden in the summertime.

 We sampled their weekday lunch menu (45 euros for three courses) last month, and found it impressive.  I am not talking about an economical quick bite at midday, but a really fine gourmet meal to remember, and as such, this is one of Paris' best value for money. 

        

La Table du Lancaster with garden (seen through window) tranformed into winter terrace

Your input is welcomed. Click here to send email:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

  [Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

39 - Living It Up On Park Lane!

THE DORCHESTER, London

A taste of luxury, Park Suite at the Dorchester

       I renewed a long-distance acquaintanceship last year with Christopher Cowdray after writing of him in this blog ("A Momentous Long-Distance Phone Call").  We have exchanged letters, communicated on the telephone, and chatted via email, but never actually come face to face.  

In the intervening years since the episode recounted in that musing, Cowdray has gone from managing director of Claridge's to becoming CEO of the Dorchester Collection.  He is in essence now at the helm of a veritable empire of international grand hotels.  And not just any old grand hotel.  

The Collection includes the absolute crème de la crème of international properties from Paris to Milan to Beverly Hills, not to mention England.
 

The Promenade lobby, a London landmark

A congruence of circumstances resulted in an invitation last month to spend a few days at The Dorchester, the Collection's namesake and prize London property.  

Mendez circa 1968 (Google)

   The Dorchester was the only luxury hotel I ever remember entering during the two years I lived in London at the end of the 1960’s.  Once was for a press party given by Sergio Mendez to announce a new album.  Of course few remember Mendez now, but at the time he was a hot commodity in the record world (that is, “record” as in victrola or hi-fi, for any of you who may be under 40).

The other time was to pick up a press release from a Middle Eastern political lobbyist. I recall his suite being of great luxury,  but somehow never connected it with anything that actually touched me or the real world.  I accepted his champagne and petits fours, but the political implications were entirely over my head, and I never wrote about it.

 I was aware that Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton were living at the “Dorch” that year, but again, there was their world, and then there was the real world. 

Opened in 1931, ultra modern at the time, the birth of the Dorchester oddly coincided with that of the Great Depression which had taken a couple of years before arriving in full force in the United Kingdom.  

Because of its reinforced concrete foundation,

Ike 1944 (Historiweb)

uncommon for its time, it was considered one of the safest large buildings --certainly the safest hotel-- in London during the War.  General Eisenhower, who had first stayed at the Savoy, later moved and took up residence at the Dorchester.

In the last few years, The Dorchester has been discreetly reinventing itself.  It has undergone extensive renovations, rooms have been redone and redecorated, and most suites have been completely re-thought and transformed.  It stands proudly today at the top of its form.  

As we set off to catch the Eurostar for the 2 1/2 hour train journey to London, Brenda had her heart set on a view of Hyde Park.  I warned her that this was unlikely, as only the most expensive rooms seemed to be on the Park side.  We had been just slightly let down last year by our digs at the Savoy, and we promised ourselves not to be disappointed if the accommodations were on the small side.

They were not.

The lovely Katarina

Imagine our enchantment when the glamorous Katarina, a "guest liaison manager", threw open the doors of the Park Suite for us.   One of the hotel's most elegant apartments, I would have almost settled for just its foyer with its handsome black and white marble floor and distinctive Japanese-style wallpaper.

The stunning foyer of our suite

 Entirely redone last year, Katarina confided it was her favorite suite.  I was thoroughly conquered when she said that all my questions reminded her of herself, as she, too, shared a longstanding passion for hotels.  

A native of Slovakia, she first worked in London at the smaller, elitist Connaught Hotel, before moving to The Dorchester.  She undoubtedly has discovered a very special world in the once-closed milieu of English palaces.

And as for the panorama, Brenda need not have worried.  Even the toilet (there were two!) had a fine view of Park Lane and Hyde Park.  

Our rooms, like much of the hotel, have maintained a strong feeling of the English traditional, subtly revisited by a touch of pan-Asian decor and more than a little art-déco.  The Dorch has somehow found the secret to being old-fashioned and modern at the same time.  

The last morning, I awakened at daybreak to just a hint of sunlight peeking through the curtains, and I savored the beauty of the bedroom's exquisite silver and gray damask wallpaper.  A detail among so many.  

Preparing to leave, I felt a sudden sadness.  Would this be my swan song to Gatsbyesque living?  I do hope not.  But if so, I couldn't have found a better finale.  How could I ever top it? 

Brenda getting used to the luxurious bed linen and all those wonderful down-filled pillows

 SNAPSHOTS:  A few days at the Dorchester

An array of homemade chocolates awaiting us our first afternoon

A loo with a view

Lizzie brings even more beautiful white roses

Miguel sees to the champagne

Paul, Head butler

Breakfast "at home"

Traditional English breakfast in the Grill

Late night at the Concierge Desk

Entryway to a bona fide grand hotel

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

Next Friday:  "The Paris Riots of 1968 at l'Hotel de Lille"

[Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

Christopher Cowdray was also featured in blog No. 16, "A Momentous Long-Distance Call" Dec. 12, 2012 (to access, click on above title).

34 - Remembering Diana Dors

THE DRAYCOTT HOTEL, London, and the GEORGE V, Paris

Classic Diana Dors circa 1954 (RKO)

She was widely known as the British Marilyn Monroe.  I wonder how many people today even remember Diana Dors, the hugely popular movie star of the 1950’s.  

Before I begin, let me point out that I never actually met Diana Dors.  Our paths did cross, however, and on several occasions.  

A popular Dors at the Cannes Film Festival 1955 (Corbis photo)

I remember once seeing a photo which captured magnificently the 20^th century phenomenon of celebrity and paparazzi.  It was a black and white shot showing D.D. arriving at the Venice film festival.  She was riding in a gondola, wearing a mink bikini.  The photo showed hundreds of photographers hanging off buildings and in every conceivable location to capture the blonde actress during her 15 minutes of superstardom.

By 1969, D.D. was becoming decidedly blowsy, and her film stardom was pretty much in the past.  She had great resilience, however, and made a serious comeback that year on the London stage in a highly successful comedy-drama "Three Months Gone" at the pretigious Royal Court Theatre.

With husband Alan Lake 1968 (AP)

Happy couple

  She had recently married Alan Lake, a former truck driver and sometime-actor with a penchant for brawling which would on occasion land him in prison.  He was at least a dozen years her junior (her own age was never clearly established), and  bookmakers gave the marriage, her third, poor odds. 

I had requested an interview, and the theatre’s press person arranged a meeting at the Draycott Hotel around the corner from the Sloane Square theatre.  The interview was scheduled after the evening performance.  I had already seen the show, and had a few drinks with friends before heading for my rendez-vous.  I was thoroughly irresponsible in those days, and I arrived at the hotel’s little bar ten or fifteen minutes late.

 

The Draycott Hotel today (Draycott photo)

 Miss Dors had wasted no time hanging around, and rightly so, the interview consequently coming to nil.  The next morning the press lady called to see how the encounter had gone.  I told her the star had not appeared, neglecting to mention my own tardiness.  “That bitch,” she snapped.

Even then I felt guilty at my singular lack of honesty.

 [D.D. was once quoted as complaining about the inefficiency of her publicity agent (it probably wasn’t the same lady, though it could have been).  She caustically quipped to a journalist, “A shame she wasn’t doing publicity for poor old Johnny Gielgud when he was arrested.  That way, it could have all been kept hush-hush.”  She was referring to the widely publicized scandal provoked by the arrest of actor John Gielgud for what was then illegal sexual conduct.]

Early British poster (Hammer Films)

* * * * * * *

 More than a decade later, walking up the Champs-Elysées in Paris one Sunday afternoon, I noticed a seriously overweight woman attracting a lot of attention.  She was dressed in a tight, red dress with inappropriately plunging cleavage,  inappropriate for both her age and her weight.  Her shoulder-length hair was platinum white, and she was wearing full stage makeup and then some.  I suddenly realized it was Diana Dors.

She was accompanied by the same husband, and despite the poor odds, they still seemed  devoted to each other.

The later years... (google)

 They were window-shopping in one of those arcades for tourists.  A little crowd had gathered around, but it had nothing to do with Diana Dors, the movie star, who was by now quite forgotten … at least in Paris.   

Bystanders were staring because the old girl was so grotesquely over the top.  I felt deeply sad for her, although she seemed happy enough, and her husband looked at her as though she were still the glamour girl of bygone days.

They were on the way back to their hotel, the George V, (now a Four Seasons), which for most of the 20^th Century was -- like the Savoy in London -- the Parisian hotel most favored by actors.  I heard them discussing the route to take, as they may have been slightly lost.

The Four Seasons George V today

I was tempted to offer assistance.  I really wanted to tell her that I recognized her, that I had admired her work on the stage that time in 1969.  That I remembered the extraordinary photo of her in the mink bikini.  I know she would have liked the recognition, but regretfully I said nothing.

I watched them walk away, hand in hand, and then turn down Avenue George V towards the hotel.

Diana Dors died of cancer the following year.  She was still news back in England, and most of the papers carried her obituary on the front page.  The pundits had declared that the marriage would never last.  In truth, Alan Lake couldn’t live without her.  He put a bullet through his head soon after her funeral.

Arrival Cannes Film Festival with Ginger Rogers 1955 (Google)

      SIDEBAR:  The Royal Film Premiere of “Staircase”                           

 (the Taylor-Burtons, Princess Margaret, and another glimpse of Diana Dors)

"Staircase" poster.  It got a lot of attention, but the film flopped!

I did run into Diana Dors again, though only from afar.  It was the Spring of 1970, my last months in London, and I found myself at the Royal Premiere of Staircase, a  Stanley Donen  film starring Richard Burton and Rex Harrison.

Some top director at UPI had been invited to the formal reception preceding the film.  Indifferent, he had left the single invitation up for grabs in the newsroom ...  just in case someone might wish to go. 

The Burtons about the same time (Google)

 As no one else showed any interest, I was only too happy to rent the mandatory tuxedo, and set out for the Odeon Cinema off Piccadilly Circus.  I never expected the invitation to entitle me to anything other than admittance to the film, so I was astounded to find myself with a handful of VIPs in a tiny roped-off red carpet area alongside the Taylor-Burtons, Princess Margaret, the grand old stage actress Cathleen Nesbitt (who played Burton’s mother) and various cinema executives. 

I didn’t actually have any conversation with any of the aforementioned celebrities, but I thoroughly enjoyed sipping champagne while listening to them talk to each other. 

Princess Margaret (Corbis Image)

  Princess Margaret to Elizabeth Taylor:  “Is this the new diamond everyone’s talking about?”

E. Taylor to Princess M.:  “Oh, no, the new one is so much nicer, but the insurance people won’t let me wear it yet.”

Anonymous film executive to R. Burton:  “Will you be staying in London long?”

R. Burton to anonymous:  “We live here actually.  We’re keeping our apartment at the Dorchester, at least until the summer.”

The whole little pre-film reception shouldn’t have lasted more than 15 minutes, but as the Taylor-Burtons were delayed for about three quarters of an hour (they were driving in from Switzerland that day), I had the added bonus of listening to  various snide comments about their tardiness.  Princess Margaret waited in a private office until they made their entrance, but her husband, Lord Snowdon, made repeated, irritated enquiries about the stars’ whereabouts.

When the famous couple finally did arrive, Princess Margaret initially seemed frosty, but E. T. was so exquisitely beautiful and so supremely gracious that everyone seemed to melt before her charms.

During that time I saw a number of lesser celebrities herded behind a plexiglass barrier, up a stairway into the cinema.  One of these was Diana Dors, whom I vividly remember being pushed back away from the little VIP area.  She was laughing loudly and craning her neck, none too discreetly trying to get a glimpse of Liz and Richard and Margaret …. and me.

Liz and partial view of Richard ... and THE diamond (AP)

-o-

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

Next Friday:  "Hollywood on the Hudson"

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

The Taylor-Burtons were also featured in:  blog No. 20, "Decafeinated coffee ... in Hungarian?" Jan. 11, 2013 (to access, click on above title).