Perfect Paris in just 24 hours
Fancy showing someone the French capital for the first time? Then take a tip from Richard Glover and discover…
PARIS for the first time. What to show a 17-year-old daughter fresh from her final school exams? I am torn between adopting the giddy lightness of Audrey Hepburn, who declared simply that ‘ Paris is always a good idea’, and the worthiness of Thomas Jefferson who said: ‘A walk around Paris will provide lessons in history, beauty, and in the point of Life.’ Our compromise is a madcap list of ten things to see, do or eat, combining the sensible and sybaritic.
After our Eurostar arrives at Gare du Nord, we bundle into an Uber (gone is the once obligatory hour- l ong wait f or a grumpy Parisian taxi). Number One on our list is simply driving to Place Vendome, possibly the most beautiful public space of any city. In 1835 the novelist Frances Trollope inquired: ‘Did Greece ever show any combination of stones and mortar more graceful and majestic than this?
‘If she did, it was in the days of her youth… no ruin can possibly meet the eye with such perfect symmetry of loveliness, so completely fill and satisfy the mind.’
Maybe, but it also happens to be just a few yards from Number Two, the discreet luxury of our hotel, the Mandarin Oriental.
Here we wake up to the perfect petit dejeuner – croissants fresh from the oven, fruit, cakes and cappuccino so delicious that we almost decide to stay there all morning.
A couple with a St Bernard turn up and the receptionists don’t even raise an eyebrow. This is the equivalent of Harrods of yesteryear, where anything from an elephant to pink meringues can be sought and bought. Opposite is Brioni, where James Bond buys his suits.
The hotel is also just a short walk from the Louvre, aka Number Three. We rush straight to Leonardo’s Mona Lisa to try to see it on our own. No such luck – already there is a swarm of tourists – but the masterpiece is beguiling, and of course we join the selfie crowd to have us and that smile snapped.
Most people ignore the Botticellis and other Leonardos en route, so they are surprisingly deserted, allowing us an uninterrupted moment to take in the incredible Madonna And Child by Cimabue, and Leonardo’s Virgin Of The Rocks.
We deliberately leave out Versailles for a future visit and head to Number Four, the Musee d’Orsay, which has the best collection of Impressionist and post-Impressionist art anywhere. We particularly enjoy Manet’s Olympia and relish the breadth and depth of the gallery’s collection.
Next we put culture on hold and duck into a cafe, seeking solace in a hot chocolate and espresso. We call this boulevard cafe our Number Five, for its perfect Parisian vibe.
Nearby, an accordion player plays in the street, which leaves only for an onion- seller on a bicycle to appear to make us feel as if we have been whisked into a fantasy Paris as it lives up to every cliche.
We are on a marathon mission and head next to Notre Dame (Number Six) where the 13th Century Gothic splendour makes a thousand years of history seem as assuring as it is s t unning. And f r om t here to Number Seven, Sainte-Chapelle, indisputably the finest royal chapel in France. The 15 stained glass windows are astounding. Tip: get there early as, like all iconic places, there is a queue.
We go to Number Seven by Metro: the Arc De Triomphe, where the grandeur of Paris is magical.
And just as I am flagging my daughter insists we head to Number Eight, the Eiffel Tower. It is almost sunset when we arrive, and as we pose under the iron structure, images of a hundred film scenes come to mind. It is creaking and amazing, and like a giant Meccano set, but somehow it is also pure romance. We go to the top in cranky lifts and the view below is worth every bit of mild dizziness.
Greed trumps culture for Number Nine, and we find the perfect traditional bistro Flottes, where the delicious onion soup and foie gras could have been brought to the table for Audrey Hepburn all those decades ago.
One big difference is the service. Gallic charm in full swing – sweet and engaging, everything that Parisian waiters once refused to show to ‘les rosbifs’. Then it’s back to the Mandarin Oriental for a night’s rest before Number Ten. It is Paris’s cultural secret: the Musee Jacquemart-André. No queues, simply an amazing private museum with extraordinary art – Botticelli, Botticini and Perugino, and Uccello’s celebrated St George And The Dragon. It is London’s Wallace Collection. Small yet utterly memorable. We head to the Gare du Nord, giving Paris ten out of ten.