Most people know Montmartre for its hoards of tour groups with big butts searching endlessly for the Butte while street vendors try to sell them friendship bracelets. It's hot, it's sweaty and it smells of fried food.
But if you get off the main drag and walk down the avenue Junot, you'll find yourself in another world: fairytale villas down leafy side-streets; hidden staircases winding up the Butte Montmartre; a boule pitch where the voyous (goodfellas) of the quartier still congregate to boast about their 10-year stretches between games.
And, if you wander down one of those magical alleys, (just turn left by the Sorcerer's Stone - a mystical relic of old rural Montmartre) you’ll find one of the hidden jewels of the quartier - the Hotel Particulier .
Morgane Rousseau, the magically-named former curator of the Chateau Bionnay, famous for her conceptual art installations, has woven a spell in this former townhouse. A year ago, she invited five artists to participate in the creation of five individual suites - each different. Her purpose was to create the ultimate luxe b&b, where guests can feel at home to come and go as they please.
The garden, designed by Louis Bénech, who recently revamped the Tuilleries, continues the principles of the hotel; a series of secret spaces where guests can be as public or as private as they wish. When I stayed, one of the guests had taken over the terrace to host a private candlelit dinner which went on late into the hot May night.
The hotel, which doesn’t usually offer dinner, has a chef service bookable 24 hours in advance; a daily sumptuous French breakfast; and an honesty bar in the lobby, which is furnished with 20th century classics (all for sale) and all the art books and movies you could wish to borrow.
I stayed in the arbres et oreilles (trees and ears) suite (photo below) with its fabulous hand-printed, Japanese-influenced wallpaper by designer and illustrator, Pierre Fichefeux; family-sized bed and a separate, chaise-lounge-d reading/tv area.
After a bath in the massive rectangular tub, I put my ear to one of the rubber apertures in the wall, each marked 'press this button to hear a secret'. I wonder what it will whisper to me.
Maybe it will tell me more about Morgane's future plans: a private members’ club in the hotel during the Winter months, and another hotel in Paris. Where? That will have to remain one of her fairy secrets...






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