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THE ARLINGTONGRAND
Book
revolving brass doors from the avenue, dusk
marble lobby, velvet armchairs, a white-gloved porter
slow tilt up into the lobby chandelier
through the bar doors: evening cocktails on brass
rooftop terrace at night, city skyline through tall windows
I · 12 avenue Gabriel

Since 1924, the city has come to us.

A doorman in a grey greatcoat, a brass revolving door, and the warm breath of the lobby on a cold evening.

II · The Lobby

Some addresses need no introduction.

Forty-two kinds of marble underfoot and a porter who will remember your name tomorrow. The velvet armchairs have heard everything. None of them talk.

III · Look up

Eleven thousand crystals, cleaned by hand.

Hung for the opening night ball and lowered every Tuesday at dawn. It has watched a century of arrivals and kept every one of their secrets.

IV · The Fan Bar · from six

A martini, made the same way since 1931.

Bordeaux velvet, a brass rail polished to a mirror, and a bartender who measures by eye. Glance in. You will stay for one.

V · Floor R

And above it all, Paris at night.

The tower sparkling on the hour, the avenue in motion below, the rooftops silvered to the hills. Nobody up here is in a hurry.

12 avenue Gabriel · Paris · Since 1924

A palace that kept its manners.

Built for an opera season that never quite ended, The Arlington Grand has spent a century perfecting the unhurried evening. Eighty-one rooms above the avenue, a ballroom with a sprung floor, a bar with a long memory and a rooftop that sees the whole of Paris at once.

The Fan Bar at night, the tower lit beyond the glass
Floor R · The Fan Bar

The rooftop keeps late hours.

Bordeaux velvet, a brass rail polished to a mirror, and a view that stops conversations on the hour when the tower begins to sparkle. The martini has been made the same way since 1931. We see no reason to change it.

Take the lift up
The last grand hotel in Paris where the doorman still remembers how you take your coffee, and would never dream of mentioning it.
Le Voyageur · Winter 2025

Letters from the avenueFour a year, never more.

THE ARLINGTONGRAND