Review: Mandarin Oriental, Paris – la vie en rose

The “beautiful people” had checked out of the Mandarin Oriental, Paris, by the time I arrived with my suitcase in March. This “palace”-designated hotel, with its chic 1930s art-deco facade, sits on the Rue Saint-Honoré in the fashion quarter of the capital of fashion. Its neighbours are Versace and Yves Salomon, and, opposite, you will find Giorgio Armani.

Down the road is where Thierry Hermès opened his saddle shop in 1837. Today, it sells fabulously expensive handbags, but being merely fabulously wealthy won’t get you one. You have to be on the list.

Naturally, there were still plenty of elegant people to be spotted at the Mandarin Oriental, Paris. Smartly dressed, they were milling about the lobby, beneath the chandelier of 135 crystal butterflies – one for each room of the hotel.

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There were elegant people having lunch in the contemporary French restaurant, Camélia. And there were, no doubt, elegant people to be found in The Spa, being relieved of the stress of buying said Hermès handbags. Here, in the spa, you will also find a long, sleek indoor spa pool and a steam room hidden at the end.

But these weren’t the “beautiful people” of Paris Fashion Week, held a fortnight earlier. The models, designers and fashion buyers. The glitterati. The Mandarin Oriental, along with a couple of other select hotels, is their natural home. The week had ended, the beautiful people had pulled up the catwalk from the Jardin des Tuileries around the corner and the circus had moved on for Tokyo.

Calm had been restored to this most exclusive of neighbourhoods in the first arrondissement. A studied nonchalance now settled over Saint-Honoré. The sun was out, the air was crisp and there were flowers everywhere.

At the Jardin des Plantes, across the Seine, big, bright tulips provided dabs of colour that, when viewed from afar, resembled some magnificent pointillist painting. There were tulips, too, up on Montmartre in the north of the city, under the windmills and beside the Sacré-Cœur. Paris is at its prettiest in the spring.

Channelling Marlene Dietrich

And so is the Mandarin Oriental, Paris. Exactly one year ago, this belle dame gained a celebrity sister in the famous Hôtel Lutetia on the Left Bank, when the “fan brand” took up its management. The original, on Rue Saint-Honoré, however, remains a city classic.

The centrepiece is the leafy outdoor courtyard in the middle, with its cosy, covered booths dotted about among the foliage. It feels spacious, yet private, which is no mean feat considering where you are, in the heart of the capital.

The balcony from my deluxe suite looked down on the courtyard – a quiet space to enjoy a drink. Other rooms and suites look out onto the Rue Saint-Honoré.

From the balcony, you arrive in the living room that has a desk, sofa, armchair and TV. The colour palette is in keeping with the brand and Mandarin’s Hong Kong roots – sophisticated dark-cherry wood furniture and golden fabrics. Lest you forget where you are, there are a couple of large, framed photographs on the wall of a lady moodily smoking a cigarette in the style of Marlene Dietrich.

The white-tiled bathroom, adjacent to the bedroom, is expansive, with a bath and a separate shower. There is also a separate toilet by the main door. The wardrobe space is ample and there is a mini bar with all the drinks and snacks you would expect.

I was also afforded a glimpse of The Mandarin Penthouse Suite. It has an impressively high ceiling in the living room, given you are on the top floor, and admits plenty of light. But then, the suite does occupy two levels – there is a staircase leading up to a huge, white bathroom with an enormous tub and views of the Eiffel Tower. The imposing baroque dome of the Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption church almost next door looms large. From the terrace, you have a view over the city.

Guilty little secrets

In the evening, head back down to the ground floor for an apéritif cocktail at the elegant Bar 8, enjoyed with a plate of prawn dim sum har gow if you’re feeling snackish. This is still a Mandarin after all. On sultry nights, you can take your drink out into the courtyard garden and enjoy the music.

Come morning, you will find yourself back at the restaurant, Camélia. I don’t usually focus too much on breakfast, because, with a few exceptions, a hotel breakfast is much like another – even in a five-star. But the pastries here deserve special mention.

They are outstanding and rightly take centre-stage at the buffet table. Then again, Saint Honoré is the patron saint of boulangers and pâtissiers.

If you can’t wait for breakfast to roll around again, you can enjoy them throughout the day from the Cake Shop at the entrance to Camélia. Allez-y. The beautiful people will never know.

Chris was a guest of the Mandarin Oriental, Paris. Room rates start from €1,400.

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