Hotel Pigalle
When you need that little bit of old-world plush
‘Bon voyage’, the lift intones in a slightly raspy, filmic voice. You very nearly give it a ‘Merci’ in return. The French, Moulin Rouge-like atmosphere at Pigalle grabs you immediately. Key cards? Pas du tout. A brass lump with a tassel is the thing here. And if a somewhat naughty feeling has already begun to creep over you, the room will let you wallow in it: the fringes here are more numerous and more golden, the pile of the rug deeper, the medallions on the wall more florid and the pillows, well they’re the size of small mattresses. And despite the presence of an uncountable number of pendant-dripping chandeliers and twee sconces, the room is cloaked in a gloom well suited to the décor. Yes, of course it’s romantic! Breakfast is served on the fourth floor, which doubles as a cosy restaurant. If it’s chilly outdoors, a crackling fire is lit here. Pi-galle is within easy suitcase rolling distance of the Central Station, and smack in the middle of the downtown shopping area. In the small, library-like bar by the reception you can take a mo-ment to check your email – best before the cocktail hour