Hotel: breakfast at the Hôtel de Vendôme, Paris

by Sasha Wilkins on August 21, 2010 · 9 comments

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Yesterday I awoke in a glorious room at the Hôtel de Vendôme slap, bang in the centre of chic Paris, stretched out in my double bed, leaned over for my book and spent an I’m-on-holiday hour reading something that did not improve my mind but entertained it enormously. Then, feeling ready for breakfast, I glanced at my watch. And the penny dropped: I hadn’t put my watch forward an hour and, instead of it being 9.3oam, and time to wander down to breakfast, it was 10.30am and I had not only overslept, but compounded the crime by lolling around in bed.

Fortunately I wasn’t the only person taking it snail-slow yesterday morning, and reception informed me breakfast was still possible. I pulled on the first clothes that came to hand and hopped it downstairs to the entre-sol for breakfast, which is taken in the new 1 Place Vendôme restaurant (designed by Michele Bönan).

And goodness: I wasn’t expecting to feel as though I were walking  inside a bottle of Miss Dior.  The room is a heavenly mixture of pale grey and rose and houndstooth, just like the packaging of Christian Dior’s signature scent.

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There are tourist-pleasing views over the Place Vendôme if you choose to sit by a window, but the room is quite the most luxurious and the loveliest I have seen in a hotel of late, and I was happy to sit and just look around me.

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And the breakfast! There is everything you could wish to eat on the carte, including a bio (organic) section. I was super hungry after taking a three hour Vélib bike ride around the city the night before so ordered oeufs brouillé (scrambled eggs), some pieces of a baguette, strong coffee and orange juice.

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What elevated it above the standard breakfast wasn’t just the  room, perfect ingredients and excellent cooking, but the presentation & the service. My coffee came in a little china pot, so I could have more hot refills a choix, the buerre d’Isiginy was both salted & unsalted, and my orange juice was freshly squeezed, & came in a generous glass jug of my own.

And if the pleasure of my own company started to pale, then there were books on, of course, Monsieur Dior, as well as TomFord and other fashion luminaries to hand on the room’s bookshelves.

Hôtel de Vendôme, 1 Place Vendôme, 75001 Paris www.hoteldevendome.com

LLG was a guest of the Hôtel de Vendôme

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