There is a hidden Paris
The world is worse since queues flood capitals and herculean cruise ships devour history (it's what's happening). It is exactly what we are allowing: a world that no longer belongs to the stroller (wonderful word) but to the tourist and the roller of the immediate ; and it is that there is almost no room left for mysticism, lightness and the pleasure of knowing oneself lost, That was also traveling, right?
The flâneur's mystique is that of the nomad and wanderer ; the word —beautiful— is linked to Walter Benjamin : “ flânerie is incompatible with tourism , because it requires calm down and, above all, repetition, frequenting, insistence on going beyond the things that attract attention on the first visit. Thus, until appreciating more slowly seemingly insignificant details, but which also have their importance”.
Paris, at least the paris we love , gives so much play to the walker that how not to look for the corners, questions, secret shops and clandestine bars that would make so happy Jep Gambardella, Hessel or Wilde , three book flâneurs.
Facade of the Hotel Flanelles
** Le Flanelles ,** also, is the boutique hotel in 17th arrondissement that honors this live dilettante , wandering aimlessly and celebrating “the fragile eternity of the present” at every step.
A stone's throw from the Arc de Triomphe, with discretion as the flag and designed by Pascal Donat (and the architecture studio Laurent & Laurence) Le Flanelles is the refuge of the nomad : That is why it is a hotel for globetrotters, not for tourists.
Thats why he changing room (a room where you can shower and change, for so many exhausted travelers between flights) that is why the honest bar, where each guest makes use of the kitchen and the bar when he pleases, and therefore his philosophy of the hotel as a meeting and not as a routine.
The seventeenth district is a good starting point to live that certain hidden paris because he lives oblivious to noise and clichés, so the first steps must be through the neighborhood: the Nissim Museum of Camondo it is one of the most luxurious surviving private houses from the 18th century and an ode to everyday life at the turn of the century; works of art, paintings, tapestries, porcelain and silverware. It almost looks like a Luca Guadagnino movie..
Essential concept stores? Les Chatelles, Duvelleroy and of course (in Le Marais) Office Buly , the most beautiful cosmetics store in Paris: I have never seen anything like it, nor have I seen a patisserie like the Citron Coffee of the designer Jacquemus in that corner flooded with light in the Galeries Lafayette Champs Elysées . The dream of the Instagramer; or better, the dream of anyone who loves beauty.
Hedonism and slow time in the terrace garden of Le Calondo or at Epicure, the restaurant at Le Bristol responsible for one of the best meals of my life; but if we talk about the pleasure of the stroller —that is, of the curious— it is essential to cross the line of the obvious and sniff around in search of the best speakeasy: those clandestine cocktail bars without which it is possible to understand the Parisian night because the night is sure to be more unforgettable if it begins by crossing the tiny red door of The Little Red Door (60 rue Charlot) Rory Shepherd's not-so-secret cocktail bar, darling of The World's 50 Best Bars and also one of the best Manhattans I remember.
Here, a little underground and a lot of flow
More secrecy, nocturnality and treachery in Candlemas by Adam Tsou, Josh Fontaine and Carina Soto Velasquez and in the Mezcalería of the Hotel Inka (seriously: essential, but this bar is really hidden) because of its mojitos, its flow and its fried pork rinds —and this is exactly how I imagine my ideal cocktail bar: classic drinks, downtown dishes and all the rollazo of the world.
The villas of Les Batignolles, La Cite des Fleurs (perhaps the most beautiful street in the district) and one of the most authentic open-air markets in the city: Rue Poncelet.
There is a hidden Paris and what luck to have it so close, what luck to follow to the letter, still, that of Kerouac: “Our battered suitcases were piling up on the sidewalk again; We had long ways to go. But it doesn't matter, the road is life ”.