Photos by Steven Visneau
Styling by René Garza
Models Grayson Auld and Mila Connally for Page Parkes Agency, Bay Berger for Neal Hamil Agency, and Brandon Connor
Makeup by Wendy Martin for Page Parkes Agency
Styling Assistance by Molly Jodeit
Hair by Zackery Chapa for Hue Salon
Shot on location at the Memorial home of Michael and Lisa Holthouse
The Bloomsbury’s Coral Room
The structure in the upscale Mayfair district that now houses The Beaumont was, for 90 years, a carpark for the Selfrige’s department store down the street. Although it only opened as a hotel 12 years ago, it’s just gone through a renovation. Gliding past the uniformed doorman into the lobby, over gleaming checkerboard floors and a half-dozen regal oil paintings of stately ladies, you get a vibe of understated Gatsby-era glam, American-edged Art Deco mixed with bold British accents.
It follows in the Colony restaurant, ringed in red leather banquettes, lit by lamps with red shades, with the likes of Count Basie providing background tunes. How could you not have a Manhattan? The menu leans to steak, but buttery Dover sole deboned tableside works well, too. Off the lobby is similarly wood-paneled and crimson-hued Le Magritte bar. Here, the décor’s American fascination leans Old Hollywood, with black-and-whites of the Rat Pack and a young Shirley MacLaine. The Prohibition-era “Attempting the Impossible” cocktail has gin, vodka, tea and lemon; Cuban cigars are on offer.
Guest rooms are quiet, comfy and refined, with unfussy neutral color schemes, lots of dark wood touches, and beautiful books and splashy fashion mags as knickknacks. (Plot twist: You can also book the bare-bones room inside the large-scale sculpture out front that looks a bit like a cartoon robot.)
All the must-hit touristy things — Buckingham Palace, et al — are close. Closer still, just behind the hotel, is charming North Audley Street. There’s a food hall in an old church building. And spiffy locals queue for the fish, chips and mushy peas at the Mayfair Chippy, set in the ground floor of an elaborate brownstone.
Elsewhere in the East End, near the British Museum, there’s a former YWCA behind an old theater — the Bloomsbury. The women’s club where Queen Elizabeth is said to have taken swimming lessons as a girl became a hotel in the 1990s and was recently renovated.
Vintage-y-cool “Studio Suite” guest rooms are carefully quirky and bit daring, with walls of gunmetal blue, red headboards and a hanging lampshade rimmed in long fringe. Bonus spaces throughout the property include a chapel, a fireside sitting room off the check-in, and, in the basement, a dim and cozy jazz club, but the most special is the soaring Coral Room bar.
The former grand lobby of the building has been lacquered to high heaven in peachy-pink. The drinks menu looks like an old children’s book, highlighting sips such as the “Finnegan” with Irish whiskey, Guinness, Cadello and licorice. It’s not unusual to see a frisky couple canoodling for hours in the corner, as international business travelers, on-trend locals and assorted half-casual sophisticates come and go.
A dinner of “Sunday roast” on the adjoining Dalloway Terrace is lovely, its name inspired by Virginia Woolf’s high-society party hostess in yet another literary nod. In warm weather, the terrace is alfresco; when it’s cooler, it’s enclosed and festooned artfully with flowering vines making a canopy overhead.
The bustling, fun neighborhoods of Covent Garden, Chinatown and Soho are an easy walk, as is tons of classic East End theater. Stroll to Cabaret or Phantom, or maybe live a little and do Magic Mike Live instead (there will be lap dances). A bit more afield, but worth it, is afternoon tea at The Bloomsbury’s sister hotel, the stylishly traditional Kensington, carved from what once were a collection of sunny, neighboring 19th-century townhomes in South Kensington. The ritual here is enchanting, with all the little sandwiches and scones with clotted cream presented with a glass of bubbles and a vibrant, almost whimsical air.
And why not have Champagne, enjoying an old city with so much new to toast.
Cocktails and cool at The Beaumont’s Le Magritte bar
The gate of Buckingham Palace
Tea at The Kensington
"Le poireau brûlé" at Monsieur George
The newbie — Hotel Hana, on the Rue du Quatre Septembre in what’s sometimes called “Little Tokyo” — is, with just 26 rooms, the boutiquest of boutique hotels. And while the surrounding neighborhood boasts Paris’ oldest Japanese restaurant and no shortage of yakitori, and while the property’s décor is warmly spare per the crisp elegance associated with Land of the Rising Sun, the Hana vibe ultimately is pure Parisian.
It’s hard to avoid the Parisian feels with views in the guestrooms like this! Think blocks-long Haussmann-style sweeps of ivory-colored stone buildings, with wrought iron details and dormer windows on top. Those in corner rooms will feel absorbed on two sides, with five sets of French double windows to open wide.
Hana (which Vogue predicted will be the hit of the next Fashion Week) was prettied up by in-demand designers Oliver Leone and Laura Gonzalez, who broke with their typical boldly vivid work to post a cozy minimalism. There are grasscloth-wallpapered rooms and rich wood tones everywhere, with sweet notes of terracotta, mustard and rust. The lobby doubles as a quaint cocktail bar, ringed with pale plum banquettes. A similarly arranged little restaurant with an open kitchen, bleeding in from the opposite side of the check-in desk, offers a spin on traditional steak au poivre, infused with Japanese sansho pepper. The cheesecake is flavored with sake and sesame.
The hotel’s location is hard to beat. Boisterous brasseries and fab patisseries — one barely bigger than a closet, drawing crowds every time they pull a batch of salted double-chocolate-chip cookies from the oven — abound. The Louvre is close, the Opera House closer. And all of Paris is easily in reach, with a Métro station on the block; one must consider a trek to the artsy hilltop neighborhood of Montmartre, where the creperie near Sacré-Cœur Basilica produces a Comté cheese crepe, folded in half twice, and handed over looking a bit like an ice cream cone.
Meanwhile, at Monsieur George in the 8th, another one of Addresses’ hotels — they have six in Paris, plus two in the South of France — handsome chef Thomas Danigo, 32, is basking in the glow of his first Michelin star. And glow is the right word for Galanga restaurant, secreted away in back of a classic Haussmannian building just off the Champs-Élysées.
As Hana is bright and fresh, George and Galanga are dark and sexy. At night the antique mirrors in the restaurant reflect the twinkle lights strewn through the climbing ivy in the courtyard outside. It’s tasting-menu only, with exquisite wine pairings; the “burnt leek” course has become famous, the leaves folded tightly and offered with shaved pecorino and lots of soft, savory sabayon.
Bienvenue à Paris. Let the games begin.
Checking in at Hotel Hana
Night falls at Galanga
Flank steak au poivre at Hotel Hana’s Hananbi