SPIRIT OF PLACE
Justine Picardie savours the history and long-standing charm of Le Bristol, a venerable Paris institution
I’m writing this at a time when Le Bristol, like every other hotel in Paris, has closed down until further notice; but it remains alluring as always in my memory, the enchanting garden scented with midsummer roses and jasmine, and lighthearted laughter rippling from the bar. For having fallen in love with the property from the moment I first walked through its elegant entrance on Rue du Faubourg Saint-honoré several decades ago, I’m certainly not going to forget about it now.
Le Bristol is a short stroll away from the Elysée Palace, the official residence of the French president, and it has always felt close to the core of Paris, rather than simply being a luxurious haven for visitors to the city. Power brokers dine at its Epicure restaurant (which holds three Michelin stars), while discreet business meetings take place in its brasserie and café. Yet for all its grandeur, it’s not a solemn place, in the manner of some opulent palace hotels. Yes, it takes immense pride in its outstanding service and professionalism, but there is also real warmth here, and a sense of playfulness; after all, this is a property with a cherished resident cat, a fluffy white Birman princeling named Fa-raon.
The hotel’s remarkable history adds to its status as a clockwise from left: the swimming pool. the epicure restaurant. fa-raon, the hotel’s resident cat. opposite: the balcony of a junior suite
uniquely Parisian landmark. Established in 1925 by Hippolyte Jammet, it was named after Frederick Hervey, the 4th Earl of Bristol, famed for his love of sumptuous accommodation and gourmet dining during his travels across Europe in the 18th century. Jammet was the son of a well-known chef, and his grandparents owned a highly regarded restaurant in Paris; as a young man, he had trained in the hotel industry, and after serving in World War I, was determined to set up his own business.
The launch of Le Bristol came at the height of the Jazz Age, when Paris was the most beguiling city in the world, and expatriate American writers such as Ernest Hemingway and F Scott Fitzgerald congregated there, mingling with avant-garde artists, musicians, fashion designers and socialites. The dancer Josephine Baker set sail from New York to Paris in 1925, where she was fêted for her performances at the Théâtre des Champs-elysées, as well as becoming a much-loved habituée of Le Bristol. Photographs of her taken at the hotel adorn my favourite room: the glamorous 1925 suite on the top floor, which also contains a jewel of a library, full of books on Baker’s life, covering her wartime role as a member of the French Resistance.
Meanwhile, as we face the immense challenge of the coronavirus pandemic, I find it oddly reassuring that Le Bristol has borne witness to – and survived – similarly cataclysmic events, from the devastation of the Wall Street Crash and the Great Depression to the German occupation of Paris during World War II. In May 1940, Hippolyte Jammet sent his wife and seven children to Brittany, along with the hotel’s most important artworks and an 18th-century Gobelins tapestry – a gift from Napoleon to his mother that had hung in Le Bristol’s magnificent lobby.
Jammet then made a swift decision to install a bomb shelter in the hotel, and signed an agreement with the American ambassador, William Bullitt, to allow US diplomats living in Paris to move in; they were soon joined by a hundred or so diplomats from other parts of the world
– Scandinavia, Spain and Latin America among them. But there were also hidden guests during the terrible years of the occupation. From June 1940, Anne Morgan, the youngest daughter of the American banker JP Morgan, and a lifelong philanthropist and Francophile, rented 14 rooms on a permanent basis at Le Bristol, to shelter a series of Jewish families until they could be smuggled out of France to Portugal, and thence to the US. (Their names never appeared on the hotel register, but Anne Morgan’s did.)
Leo Lerman, a Jewish architect who had been part of the team that developed the original hotel, also found refuge there. Jammet had offered him a room when the Jewish population of Paris was being rounded up and deported to Germany, and removed the number from the door to maintain secrecy. The proprietor asked for nothing in return, but Lerman declared that he needed to keep working in order to stay sane, and drew up detailed plans for the renovation of Le Bristol, redesigning 50 of the hotel bedrooms and the restaurant, along with the elaborate wrought-iron lift that can still be admired today.
When the war came to an end, Lerman’s plans were enacted and the artworks returned to the hotel, as was the Gobelins tapestry, which still takes pride of place on the ground floor. Thus, Le Bristol has always had hope at its very heart; and I now look forward to the day when I may return there, and raise a glass of champagne to all those who have loved it, as I do. Shining bright in the City of Light, it is a place that truly represents the spirit of Paris. Le Bristol, from around £1,425 a room a night (www.oetkercollection.com)