SURRE ALISTIC PILLOW

Mandarin Oriental’s recently opened Paris outpost combines modernistic minimalism, luxurious opulence and a spacey ’60s vibe. jon wall soaks it all up

CLASSY YET UNDERSTATED, the 1930s art deco facade on Rue Saint-Honoré – one of the most fashionable thoroughfares in a city synonymous with style – hardly warrants a second glance from the well-heeled shoppers flitting between Colette and Lanvin, Goyard and Longchamp. But that, one suspects, is how guests at Mandarin Oriental, Paris – the latest foray into the French capital  by a Hong Kong-based hotel company – like it, for this elegantly restrained edifice far more suggests the headquarters of an insurance company, bank or media conglomerate than a sanctuary of contemporary urban luxury that’s destined to become a favoured pied-à-terre of A-list visitors to the City of Light.

That sophisticated persona is revealed as soon as guests step off the street, pass through the porch and enter a grand lobby whose polished stone and earth tones are offset by a vast expanse of gold leaf on the ceiling, and a palette of reds on cushions and wall panels that shade from deep burgundy to vivid rosy pink. Beyond, through a high glass wall that makes up one side of the space, is the hotel’s central garden, whose trees and greenery-filled planters appear to spill back into the building. It’s a suitably splendid introduction to a hotel whose gala official opening in September attracted such celebrity “fans” of the hospitality brand as Maggie Cheung, Liam Neeson and Kenzo Takada (another, violinist Vanessa-Mae, provided musical entertainment), and whose 138 rooms and suites have almost overnight become some of the most sought-after in the city.

Several weeks before its star-studded sendoff, I’m fortunate enough to spend a weekend sequestered within this bastion of up to-the-minute opulence in a Mandarin Terrace Room that, like most units in the property, overlooks the courtyard garden. From my small balcony above the leafy quadrangle, the effect is more that of a secluded and exclusive residence than of a hotel, an impression that rather agreeably suggests I’ll be here a lot longer than a couple of nights. At the very least I can dream.

Like the lobby, these accommodations are the work of designer Sybille de Margerie, who has drawn from the same swatch books of colours, materials and textures to create a space that’s cosy yet contemporaneous, warm yet supercool. Although the smallest in the hotel, my room is still around 430 square feet, which is spacious enough to pack in all the amenities I’d ever need, though not so expansive as to feel as if I’m sleeping in a tennis court.

Underlining the First Arrondissement’s deep-seated associations with high fashion and creativity is a wall-hung reinterpretation on silk of Man Ray’s photograph The Kiss. Chrome furnishings similarly evoke a 1930s feel, while the subtle grey-browns of the walls, floor, curtains and cushions are enlivened by bold stripes of rose and orange. Facing the bed, a pair of doors slides open onto a bathroom whose white marble, glass and mosaics conjure up a sleek, spaceage modernity that seems anchored somewhere in the ’60s or ’70s. Compared with the grand palace hotels of nearby Place Vendôme, Rue de Rivoli and Place de la Concorde, or even hip relative newcomers such as Hôtel Costes, this hotel adopts a very different approach to luxury. Just like the building’s simple exterior, the room’s apparent minimalism masks real sumptuousness and cosseting.

Unlike rooms and public areas, the hotel’s two restaurants were designed by Agence Jouin-Manku, yet a similar ambience permeates both. Chef Thierry Marx, who formerly presided over the two-Michelin-starred restaurant at Château Cordeillan-Bages in Pauillac near Bordeaux, now helms the 45-seat Sur Mesure par Thierry Marx, which serves haute “techno-emotional” cuisine in an intimate yet otherworldly white-swathed cocoon that’s also inspired by haute couture. Adjacent is Bar 8, dominated by a massive hunk of brown marble and with green walls that echo the foliage in the courtyard outside, while on the opposite side of the hotel is the 70-seat Camélia cafe, also under Marx’s stewardship. In this airy space that extends out into the garden, guests can expect to dine on such simple but authentic dishes as rabbit in mustard sauce or white pudding and sole – in 45 minutes and for €45.

Below the lobby lies the spa, which takes up almost 9,700 square feet on two levels and comprises seven treatment suites, and the swimming pool, also decorated in pinks and whites that invoke a suitably dreamy mood for lazy lengths in this watery underground cavern. It’s another uniquely surrealistic space in an urban oasis quite unlike any I’ve stayed in before.