My mom was a francophile. I’m not sure why, because her French was not that great and she was more of a worldly American trapped in East Tennessee than anything else. She loved Paris especially. Whenever she visited with dad, she always stayed at Lutéce on Ile St Louis.
I stayed here myself a couple of times years ago, and felt drawn to the island to share a bit of my mother’s ghost with Romey. This is the only way they will meet.
The hotel has seen an excellent facelift as a result of COVID, and remains a beautiful little quirky gem. Of course, when you learn anything about Paris (and Lutèce) you find out that ile saint louis is all very new and once was the domain of more cows than people—kind of like where we live now only with much less city. Thanks to Victor Hugo, Notre Dame was rescued from decrepitude and became, once again, the heart of the world.
Speaking of which, here we are standing together on the dot that was once the center of planet earth from which every other place was measured. Our friends Yo and Caroline trained down from Leuven to join us for the weekend—time we will always treasure.
We dropped our bags on a rainy morning (having come down from Hotel de Nell) and headed back up for lunch at Habile. Not to state the obvious, but the French are excellent cooks. Food plays a central role in human existence, and the French have known this for centuries. This is something my mother knew to her core as well.
Habile is superb and fun and neon colored and eclectic. It is also situated in the heart of a set of high-end vintage clothing stores. A coat that immediately caugfht Romey’s eye in the window was a Hermes for a mere 2500 euros. We had fun perusing the stores.
This is the “arc of participation prize.”
Eventually we ran out of steam and stopped for a drink in a random street cafe.
Around sunset we made it down to the seine.
We parted ways for the evening over a glass of champagne in the lobby and headed up to room 61.
61 is a very cool room with an excellent bathroom.
And then it was off to Pur for a delicious old school dinner.
Bright and early the next morning we walked together to the Musée d’Orsay.
View from 61.
After a very brief rest came an excellent private tour of the newly-renovated Notre Dame.
Then it was off for some shopping at Galleries Lafayette. Just go. Nothing was purchased.
We returned to Ile Saint Louis in the very nick of time for a delightful oyster fest at
Poget & De Witte, featuring two bottles of wine and five renditions of the happy birthday song: english, chinese, dutch, german, french and “pissed off drunk guy.”
Romey and Caroline were busy conjuring up words for the various translations.
After dinner we had more mandatory pommes frites at Le Saint-Regis which is about as touristy as they come. Then we packed up and readied ourselves for the trip home.
A warning: we were shanghaied by Dior in the airport somehow on our way out of town the next morning. LOL. A cherished keepsake is now in the inventory.
We had an excellent adventure filled with lots of walking, lots of talking, and lots of love.
Five showerheads and fond memories for Lutèce.