Review of Saint James Paris, by Vitali Vitaliev

Is it possible to get tired of Paris? I assume it is, although the French answer to Dr. Johnson's famous cliché about London is still waiting to be coined. Let us therefore paraphrase the question slightly: How can one withdraw from the hustle-and-bustle of Paris without actually leaving Paris? The answer is by staying at Saint James Paris, the French capital's only châteaux-style hotel.

The hotel's palatial neo-classical building is all but invisible from the leafy Avenue Bugeaud in the 16th district of Chaillot Quarter - one of the quietest and plushest in Paris. The only noises reaching the ears of the lucky guests of a morning are cooing of wood pigeons and babbling of water in the garden fountains.

Inside, Saint James is full of old mirrors. Somewhat faded and stained with time, they - alongside the ubiquitous carpets - constitute an essential detail of the hotel's décor, both in its public quarters and in the rooms/suites. During 117 years of the building's history, the mirrors of Saint James have seen and reflected a lot.

The mansion was built in 1892 on the spot of Paris' first "aerodrome" (from which hot air balloons used to take off) by the widow of a former French President Louis Adolphe Thiers with the aim of "commemorating his greatness". She did so by opening in the building a boarding school for young and bright French males with financial difficulties. The youngsters were to study in that all-male school for five years, all expenses paid, the only pre-condition being total absence of female visitors , except for the charitable M-me Thiers herself, no doubt.

The life-size sculpture of Louis Adolphe Thiers now stands at Saint James' gates and wags its stone index finger at the passing guests as if reprimanding them for their extravagance of which even a short stay at this spectacular hotel is a shining example.

The dimly lit Saint James' interior has the atmosphere of a Pall Mall Club: impressive grand staircase, dusty chandeliers, spacious library-cum-bar with plush leather armchairs, so soft and deep that they negatively affect the sitter's sense of self-esteem.

All 48 rooms and suites are different, yet equally spacious, high-ceilinged and therefore in summer abound in spaces which modern air conditioners simply cannot reach. The same can be said about TV remotes. Ageing and venerable Saint James appears to have a small vendetta with modern technology - the fact that somehow only adds to its old-fashioned charm.

The bathrooms are so capacious that each can easily accommodate a couple of "junior suites" of any modern Best Western. They all have walk-in showers and are generously stuffed with inviting fluffy towels and bath robes, including mini-dressing gowns for some very young (yet already irreparably spoilt by all this luxury) guests, as well as designer toiletries.

It I were to choose a symbol of this splendid hotel, it would definitely be my weighty room key - with a huge brass knob dressed in tassel. They simply do not make keys like that any more! The key is too heavy (maybe even illegal, for it can easily double as a lethal weapon) to carry around and you are expected to leave it at the reception. Like in good old times, indeed.

So, if you are a bit tired (or bored) of Paris - if not of life, but need to be in Paris anyway, Saint James is the place.