Serene secret garden
Get this when you book through us:
A bottle of fine wine
Rates from (inc tax)$385.97 If you haven’t entered any dates, the rate shown is provided directly by the hotel and represents the cheapest double room (including tax) available in the next 21 days. Prices have been converted from the hotel’s local currency (21EUR), via openexchangerates.org, using today’s exchange rate.
If you haven’t entered any dates, the rate shown is provided directly by the hotel and represents the cheapest double room (including tax) available in the next 21 days.
Prices have been converted from the hotel’s local currency (21EUR), via openexchangerates.org, using today’s exchange rate.
Serene secret garden
Get this when you book through us:
A bottle of fine wine
12 noon, but flexible, depending on the next guests. Check-in, 3pm.
Double rooms from $385.97 (€355), excluding tax at 10 per cent.
If you haven’t entered any dates, the rate shown is provided directly by the hotel and represents the cheapest double room (including tax) available in the next 21 days. Prices have been converted from the hotel’s local currency (EUR390.01), via openexchangerates.org, using today’s exchange rate.
Prices have been converted from the hotel’s local currency (EUR390.01), via openexchangerates.org, using today’s exchange rate.
Rates exclude breakfast, €25.
The garden – an unexpected delight in the midst of bustly Montmartre – is as much as work of art as the rest of the hotel. Landscaper Louis Bénech (who also created the Jardin des Tuileries) has woven the serene and leafy space with shady nooks and a tinkling fountain.
Garden, library with dozens of contemporary art and design books, CDs and DVDs, free WiFi throughout. In rooms: flatscreen TV, DVD/CD, minibar, Annick Goutal products.
Hôtel Particulier’s handful of suites were all designed by Morgane Rousseau, with featured works by different artists, and each is packed with personality. We’d stay in Trees with Ears for the name alone, but it’s also invitingly spacious, draped in tactile velvet and full of antiques. Vitrine, created by sculptor Philippe Mayaux, is a saucier stay altogether, with its cabinet of highly suggestive blown-glass objects and a big steam room. The arboreal wallpaper in Jacuzzi-equipped Vegetal makes you feel as though you’re sleeping in a light-dappled forest glade.
Your chosen artistic medium – paints, camera, or sculpting materials – the hotel is steeped in art, and some of the inspiration is bound to rub off.
The hotel can arrange in-room massages and hairdressing. You may smoke in the garden only.
‘Very small’ pets only. That’s dogs, not gerbils. See more pet-friendly hotels in Paris.
Although there are no dedicated children’s facilities, little ones are welcome and baby cots or extra beds are provided free in parents' rooms.
Take summer breakfast or tea alfresco, at one of the little wrought-iron tables among the flowers.
Glam and quirky: think Weimar or Vivienne Westwood.
Hôtel Particulier serves dinner Wednesday to Saturday only, from 8pm: expect high-falutin' French classics, such as foie gras with grilled figs drizzled in the hotel's own honey; roasted monkfish with fennel confit and squash purée, and pears poached in red wine. Breakfast consists of fresh fruit, tasty pastries and fabulous coffee. On Saturdays and Sundays, there are brunch buffet sittings (€38 a person) at 12 noon and 2.30pm.
Le Très Particulier is in the very cool main salon, where an array of iconic furniture includes an original Arne Jacobsen Egg chair. As well as a well-chosen wine list and spirits selection, there's a seasonal cocktail menu – look out for Absinthe-laced Montmartre Juleps, or the elderflower, mandarin and basil-scented Impérial Martini (it might be an idea to order one of the deli platters of cheese or charcuterie to go with those…).
You can sneak in for a late meal until 10pm, but you'll need to place your order by 10.30pm.
Soup, charcuterie, cheeses and wine are on offer until midnight.
The hotel is half an hour from both Orly and Charles de Gaulle airports. From either, take the Air France bus to Etoile, from where a hop on metro line 2 to Blanche will leave you 10 minutes’ walk from the hotel.
The Gare du Nord is a 10-minute taxi ride from the hotel. On the metro, use line 2 to Blanche, 750m from the hotel. The closest metro station is Lamarck-Caulaincourt (on line 12).
The hotel is in Montmartre, as its name suggests. It’s an easy 10 minutes from the Boulevard Péripherique. Take Avenue de Saint-Ouen toward Montmartre, turning off onto Rue Etex to find Rue Joseph de Maistre. Rue Caulaincourt will be one your left; Avenue Junot is a right turn off it. There’s parking at the hotel.
Rustic dishes such as duck cassoulet match the country decor in the cosy dining room of Virage Lepic at 61 Rue Lepic (+33 (0)1 42 52 46 79). Light years away, Guilo Guilo at 8 rue Garreau serves up Japanese gastro thrills to the cognoscenti; book way ahead (+33 (0)1 43 54 23 92). Beloved of locals, art deco bistro La Mascotte (+33 (0)1 46 06 28 15) on Rue des Abbesses is famed for its lobster. A relaxed modern bistro at the top of Rue des Martyrs, with a new-classics menu chalked up daily, Le Miroir was launched in 2008 by a distinguished young team who excel at home-made touches (+33 (0)1 46 06 50 73). A boho, shambolically welcoming bar just minutes from the tourist trail atop Montmartre, Rendezvous des Amis, 23 rue Gabrielle, is plastered with photographs of the management’s social circle (+33 (0)1 46 06 01 60).
The arty Montmarte of yesteryear is still very much in evidence at Café de la Butte (+33 (0)1 46 06 46 82) at 71 rue Caulaincourt. Enjoy stalwarts of the French menu, such as confit du canard, in a room lined with artworks and antiquities.
This review is taken from our guidebook, Mr & Mrs Smith Hotel Collection: France.
Mr Smith, good humour dissolving in the fading daylight, has begun to fret. The address we’ve noted down seems correct, the road is lined with the elegant townhouses we’re expecting as neighbours, but there’s no sign of the Ho?tel Particulier Montmartre. The glass door with the number we’ve got reveals nothing except yellowed junk mail and a spider family gathering.
I leave Mr Smith fighting to prevent our wheelie suitcases from rolling off down steep Avenue Junot, and follow a dog-walking local to duck down a cobbled alleyway that I suspect may provide some clue as to where we are. Well, we’re definitely in Paris: the view that opens out a few feet ahead has all the subtlety of those landscape paintings they flog on the banks of the Seine, with the Eiffel Tower dead centre.
I am still marvelling at this most tourist-thrilling of vistas when a woman, wearing an Agatha Christie-era chambermaid’s outfit, appears from behind a tall, black iron gate. She looks at me, I look at her; then she points to a tiny, barely visible brass plaque inscribedwith what can only be the hotel’s name. Minutes later, trailed by a red-faced Mr Smith, manfully dragging both cases across the cobblestones, I am in the lush gardens of the hotel. It’s so peaceful it feels as though someone’s thrown a thick blanket over the hilltop of Montmartre. You would never know we are just a five-minute walk from Sacre?-Coeur’s camera-clicking coach hordes and pavement pierrots.
Stepping through the front door of the hotel, we find ourselves in a surprising, visually arresting space in which pop-art giant lips and aristocratic antiques cohabit with kitsch life-size statues of angels, Arne Jacobsen chairs and cowhide rugs. Though there’s a mid-century-modern slant to the furnishings, the overall effect is less dry than that suggests. We contemplate a quick drink at the honesty bar but, liking the aesthetic extravagance of the lobby, we’re keen to get upstairs and see our room. We’re in the marvellously titled Trees With Ears suite and, on first glance, it’s pretty amazing. The walls are covered in fabulous, hand-printed, Japanese-style wallpaper. A bed big enough for an entire family sits next to a huge roll-top bath (happily, there is an all-important separate loo), and this segues into an elegant living area, complete with sofa and chaise longue.
On one wall, facing the window with a view of the drinks terrace and its fairy lights, I discover a rubber earpiece and brass button, next to a little placard reading ‘press to hear a secret’. Exploring further, I come across the other end of this tannoy, hidden away behind the sofa. It’s a sexy way to relay messages to your lover at the other end of the suite. I wouldn’t dream of telling you what Mr Smith whispered through it, but it wasn’t ‘Fancy a game of Travel Connect 4?’
The hotel does not have a restaurant of its own – it’s far too dreamlike to accommodate the sardonic bustle of a hot, clattery kitchen and drums of catering ingredients. Instead, you can order up a seriously good chef to prepare a private dinner for you, to be served in the garden (amazing for a summer birthday) or around its huge indoor dining table. Our plan, after a long period of luxuriating in the bath, is to head out and find our supper in Montmartre. As one of the touristiest destinations on earth, the neighbourhood is liberally peppered with the kind of restaurants that locals don’t even bother deriding, so we’re crossing our fingers we’ll land luckily.
We end up in a tiny, candlelit bistro, Virage Lepic, as it seems to be full of in-the-know locals. Tablecloths are checked in red and white, and every inch of wall space is covered with posters, film stills and mementos of Doris Day, Judy Garland and Carmen Miranda. It’s gloriously gay, in both senses of the word, and we have a fantastic evening drinking champagne and sharing melt-in-the-mouth bone marrow and duck cassoulet. The climb back up to the hotel isn’t easy, but at least it’s easy to aim for a bed the size of a principality.
Despite Mr Smith’s vow that he’ll never eat again, he devours plenty of the croissants, freshly baked bread, marmalade, fruit salad and fresh coffee that’s wheeled into our suite. With a little help from me, of course. After breakfast, we head downstairs – past the series of self-portraits by a young Japanese artist who’s currently exhibiting in the hotel – and ask for more coffee, so that Mr Smith’s got something to accompany his Gitane out on the terrace.
We spend the rest of that day looking for lampshades at Porte de Clignancourt’s fleamarket, then mooching around the boutiques of the Marais, but it’s not really that important. What is crucial is that we have the Ho?tel Particulier Montmartre to come back to. Homely enough to put us completely at our ease, yet filled with the sort of stylish and beautiful touches that makes us feel honoured to be there, it is the perfect Parisian combination. Thank goodness not that many people know about it. If only they’d make a bit more effort to hide the entrance.
Location hidden magical garden entrance. Cafe/Bistro right outside entrance gate was delicious Modern vibe
Room service or TV Channels in English