La Fantaisie

Mr Smith, baby Smith and I arrive at Gare Du Nord. A 10-minute walk to the Ninth Arrondissement and we are at our destination, La Fantaisie on Rue Cadet – a charming, quiet street that feels like a pocket (poche?) of authentic Parisian life with all the suitably modish shops you could wish for. 

As soon as you’re through the doors, you are enveloped in the world of La Fantaisie – my eyes dart around hungrily feasting on the interiors. Opulent seating, design books and layers of art make the front lounge area feel cosy and inviting. You go to Paris to be inspired, see art and eat great food and La Fantaisie delivers from the get-go. I have 10 images in my camera roll before I’ve even checked in. 

A Wes Anderson-esque corridor of buttermilk doors framed by foliage wallpaper channels us to our room. We’re in a Deluxe, where the attention to detail is the stuff of couture – curtains are lined in a contrasting zingy yellow, our lampshades are covered in little ceramic frogs, and even the side tables are awarded a flourish, carved in scalloped marble. 

Doyen of hotel design Martin Brudnizski, the creative force behind La Fantaisie, really knows how to use fabric and texture to create a cocooning sense of warmth and calm. Staff have even set up a beautiful cot for baby Smith with a little bird toy, which is immediately given the seal of approval with a gummy chew. 

Our room has a view of the street and a baguette-slim Juliet balcony. Some rooms and suites come with terraces overlooking the hotel’s garden, and if you’re planning to stay in summer, I’d recommend booking these – a worthwhile upgrade for that extra luxury of private outdoor space in Paris. 

I lie on the large double bed, flicking through a booklet left on the side table – it’s a directory of recommended things to see and do in the area that for once don’t feel touristy; instantly I’m making a mental note of where I want to visit. Only the fact that Mr Smith has eaten all of our welcome snacks prompts me to pause: snackless, it’s time to head off to explore.

We head to the Marais, to the Alaïa foundation, where you can see designer Azzedine Alaïa’s old studio and walk through his archive of gossamer-fine, draped dresses. Entering the exhibition space, it’s like being greeted by a lot of incredibly well dressed ghosts – the dresses, displayed on hardly-visible plexiglass pedestals. 

Having squeezed in some culture, and with evening creeping in, we head back to La Fantaisie for a nightcap at the rooftop bar, which has tables indoors and out. We sit indoors: the floor-to-ceiling rose wallpaper, cosy velvet-bouclé booths and lengthy list of Californian-inspired cocktails leave Mr Smith and I in a welcome state of relaxation.

The next day, we saunter down to the Golden Poppy Room for breakfast. The dining room’s large doors open onto a walled garden where arches of vines and red, wrought-iron tables dotted around the place make it feel like a secret hideaway. 

The air of Gallic nonchalance you might expect of Parisians is nowhere in sight, eschewed in favour of service that’s informal and friendly but on point. Our waitress, who remembers our coffee order from the day before, speaks to Baby Smith, making her bubble with laughter, and delivers our breakfast swiftly: scrambled eggs and baguette for me, and kimchi-fried eggs for Mr Smith. 

Much restored by coffee and eggs, we decide to check out the spa. A large Georgia Beaumont painting at its entrance sets the artful tone we see throughout; a large tiled mural of wild flowers frames the four pools on offer; the steam room has tiny lights in the ceiling that twinkle like stars in the mist; there’s also a sauna and a red LED room. There’s no time for a Holidermie treatment today, only dipping and steaming, but even the changing rooms – a triumph of plush seating and marshmallow-like fluffy towels – prove restorative. 

To have such an amazing space to stop and reset is the cherry on top for La Fantaisie. This is a hotel that brings you a sense of other-worldliness from the gardens to the rooms: its interiors, designed to envelop you in nature, leave you surprised you’re in a city at all, let alone an urban sprawl the size of Paris.

We head off refreshed to the local Sunday market, a short stroll away: I am entranced by a cabinet I can’t take home, buy a baguette and some pastries, and drink wine at lunch (ticking all those stereotypical boxes), and – leaning into the cliché – we even visit Musée de la Vie Romantique. 

I feel a little gushy – a lot of people fall in love with Paris – but I’ve just fallen in love with La Fantaisie.