Paris's grandest dame returns: Hôtel de Crillon

21 January 2018

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It's where Marie Antoinette had her piano lessons, and where Andy Warhol and Jackie Onassis stayed. Now, four years after auctioning off its contents, the Hôtel de Crillon is back. But is this Parisian grande dame still making history?

The courtyardReto Guntli

In 1965 Cecil Beaton interviewed Diana Vreeland at the Hôtel de Crillon. He arrived to find her 'lounging on a leopardskin-covered sofa, dressed from head to toe in red chiffon, smoking cigarette after cigarette from an ebony-and-onyx holder, her arms weighed down with barbaric Verdura bracelets'.

'Diana, dear,' the esteemed Vogue photographer asked the esteemed Vogue editor, 'to what do you attribute your great success?'

'Simplicity, darling, simplicity.'

The great success of the newly renovated Crillon - and, yes, let me say straight away that it is a great success - could likewise be attributed to simplicity, as long as you understand the concept in something like Diana Vreeland's terms, so that it might include, for example, walls coated in nine layers of paint mixed with crushed mother-of-pearl in order to match the pale grey of an overcast Parisian sky; armchairs upholstered in eel skin; and a shoe-shine concession where the polish of preference is Cognac.

The wellness poolReto Guntli

The Crillon has always had a certain cachet, not only among foreign visitors but also among Parisians. I suspect this has to do with its location on the Place de la Concorde, which the locals fetishise. Don't ask me why but they adore this vast cobbled roundabout, this historic scene of outrage and uproar - first the guillotine then the automobile - this exasperating obstacle to walking in a city that is universally admired for its walkability.

The Barber, by La Barbière de ParisReto Guntli

The renovation began in 2013. It was supposed to take two years but took four. At about the same time, the Ritz and the Plaza Athénée, two of the city's best-loved old hotels, also closed for renovation; and the Peninsula, the Shangri-La and La Réserve, three of its most exciting new ones, opened. The landscape of posh Paris hotels was changing. As a consequence, more seemed to be at stake than might otherwise have been the case, and reactions, when they came, were often a little hysterical. There was much pulling of hair and rending of garments over the Ritz in particular. It was accused of having turned into a mere impersonation of itself, slightly brighter and glossier, but fundamentally unchanged. As if that was a bad thing. The Ritz was still the Ritz. To be gorgeous before and gorgeous after - this seemed to me exemplary.

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Nevertheless, there's more than one way to go about these things, and they've taken a very different approach at the Crillon.

A suiteReto Guntli

Of course, they've kept the best of the original 18th-century bits, which in any case the law wouldn't allow them to monkey with - the severe and magnificent façade by Ange-Jacques Gabriel; the astonishing, theatrical space that is Les Ambassadeurs (formerly a restaurant, now a bar, a stroke of genius); the Jardin d'Hiver; a handful of salons and suites; the main staircase. But they've added a number of nouveautés as well, notably an impeccable, understated restaurant, L'Ecrin; a fine brasserie (decorated, as it happens, with photographs by Cecil Beaton); three romantic, low-ceilinged modern suites under the eaves; and a spa and pool in the basement.

The most dramatic and, to my mind, successful changes are to be found in Karl Lagerfeld's two suites on the second floor of the hotel. These are huge, elongated grands appartements over which the German designer who reinvented Chanel has raised a sleepless, biker-gloved hand to sprinkle his unique stardust. I was transfixed by the contrast between a tiny yet oddly provocative silk baldachin (the fabric was specially woven for Lagerfeld) and a floor-to-ceiling mirrored bookshelf that slides open to reveal a dressing room the size of a Métro station.

Bathrooms in the Karl Lagerfeld suiteReto Guntli

In one of the bathrooms, the tub has been hewn from a two-tonne chunk of black-and-white-veined marble, and set upon yet more of the same monochrome stone, acres of it, so hypnotically swirly that it's like finding yourself in a Bridget Riley painting. You've transcended the Playboy Mansion and entered the realm of op art. Through the window you can see the glowing dome of Les Invalides in the distance.

These Lagerfeld suites are a loving tribute to an idea of the splendour of the dix-huitième siècle, conceived with reverence and humour, and possessing their own weird kind of authenticity. I can't imagine anyone doing the whole old-new thing better. Just brilliant.

Any objections? One or two. I like hats but can't stand the ghetto-pimp numbers they've asked the doormen to wear. And although in principle I approve of filling hotels with contemporary art, I find the selection here hit and miss. If a third of this stuff vanished mysteriously in the middle of the night, I for one wouldn't regret it. In fact, I'd hold the lift doors open for the burglars.

But these are trifles. As Louis XV's beloved papa once observed of his own imperfections, the sun may have its spots but it's still the sun. The Crillon continues to create the pleasant illusion that, for as long as you're there, you're somehow smarter, sexier, more altogether splendid and fascinating than you would be if you were anywhere else. And with wonderfully shiny, curiously fragrant shoes as well.

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Hôtel de Crillon, A Rosewood Hotel, 10 Place de la Concorde, Paris 75008 (+33 1 44 71 15 00). Doubles from about £985.

This feature was published in Condé Nast Traveller October 2017