Grand Powers

There’s something special about Paris in the sunshine. It’s not just that everything looks better — it’s when the city really comes alive. Restaurants and bars spill out onto the pavements, the squares and gardens are filled with music, street vendors, locals and tourists drinking coffee, eating pastries and ice-cream. This is the Paris we arrived into in early spring, but it’s also very much the mood of Grand Powers. We’d spent the Eurostar journey discussing the name, imagining an imposing building, a hotel that takes itself maybe a bit too seriously, with staff in top hats and tails, who would, surely, look down on us stumbling in through the doors with a buggy, a wailing toddler, and way too many bags, but we were entirely wrong. 

We were greeted by a little black and white bulldog — a toy for our delighted toddler given to him by the concierge, who also presented him with his own warm flannel and a welcome drink. On the way to the room, we joked this is what he would now expect on every arrival — since proven true. As a parent, you appreciate it when your child is made to feel like part of the experience, not just because it’s fun for them, but because it’s easier for you. It tells you immediately that this is the kind of place where running full pelt around the breakfast buffet or sticky little hands reaching for fistfuls of pastries won’t be frowned upon. Not that Grand Powers is specifically a family hotel, and in fact most of the guests during our stay were couples — on a romantic sojourn, Mr Smith and I wistfully mused — but it is certainly friendly to families. 

We had arranged the trip as a babymoon before number two arrives, which, as the pregnant party, I took to mean maximum relaxation and indulgence — ie, lots of macarons, long baths and naps. 

Without us saying anything, the hotel seemed to know exactly what we needed, when we needed it. Our room, an art deco-inspired junior suite (the hotel dates back to the 1920s), which somehow felt both grand and completely liveable, was equipped with more toys — a vintage car and a huge teddy bear, plus a second bulldog for the baby-to-be — delicious snacks and herbal teas, and an abundance of Diptyque toiletries, which very much elevated the hour-long soaks I felt obliged to take, for the baby’s sake, of course. 

It helped that our toddler was more than happy to pedal about the room in the car — yes, there was a lot of floor space. And that we were treated to one glorious private session in the spa, free during the day, bookable in the evenings. After our toddler had a later-than-expected snooze, during which I sat in the sun with a hot chocolate and more homemade macarons, while Mr Smith went for a run along the banks of the Seine to the Louvre — as you do — we brought him with us into the spa. Again, no eyebrows were raised — and since it was just us, it didn’t matter that he didn’t exactly understand the hushed environment or that the fluffy white robes weren’t strictly his size. Master Smith being only two and me being pregnant meant that neither of us were able to make the most of the sauna or the hot tub, but we did very much enjoy drinking faux champagne and dipping our feet into the warm, bubbly — occasionally, shark-infested — water.

Once the toddler was finally asleep, Mr Smith, the baby monitor and I headed downstairs for dinner. The restaurant is styled as a neighbourhood café, with soft sofa seats and an upbeat, unobtrusive soundtrack, which suited us perfectly. It bills itself as healthy but it’s all about balance: on the menu, there was detox juice, kombucha, sea collagen and CBD oil, but there were also cocktails, wine, tempura prawns, crispy halloumi with ginger caramel, and an extremely rich and delicious chocolate mousse. You could probably even order frites if you wanted to — or do as we did the following day, and hop over to the popular bistro next door for a platter of lunchtime chips and tapenade. And for breakfast, thankfully, there are pastries, brioche and chocolate spread. 

The hotel sits a few avenues over from the Champs-Élysées, useful when you realise you haven’t packed pyjamas and need to go shopping pronto, but also as a landmark when we went out wandering — Paris, it turns out, isn’t particularly family-friendly if you’re planning on taking the Metro. Not that it mattered. From the hotel, you can walk to just about anywhere. Over the course of a couple of days, we embarked on various cultural rambles to the Palais de Tokyo, the Grand Palais (where Hermès was staging its annual showjumping competition), the Petit Palais and to the Eiffel Tower, which sits just across the river — you can see it from some of the hotel’s rooms. 

Each time we returned to the hotel, to refuel or put our toddler down for a nap, we were greeted by name, offered glasses of iced water, asked questions about our day. Small things, but they change everything about how a place feels. It’s grounding somehow, turning what can, with small children, so easily feel like chaos into something beautiful and serene.