Travel & Hotspots
WHY YOUR LIFE IS RUINED FOREVER IF YOU'VE SLEPT AT LE MEURICE
It will not surprise anyone: I really want to go to Paris soon. Kiki has just been and May-Britt goes a hundred times a year and then I can't fall behind, right? Or am I crazy? Well, I don't think so, and so I've been diligently searching for a nice hotel these past few days. That's just a bit easier said than done. You see, I am ruined.
I will now tell you by whom.
It's actually all Chanel's fault. Or rather: hotel Le Meurice. Because I got to sleep there – when I went to the amazing Métiers d’Art show by Chanel in Paris a few years ago with May-Britt – at Chanel's expense. And I still can't get over how incredibly ridiculous luxurious and stylish that was.
“And then that Marie Antoinette-style decor of the dining room, with all those rich chandeliers: it's just so amazing and luxurious that it makes you feel sick”
At Le Meurice, they have been rocking the marble trend for centuries, for example. And in such a way that it always remains current. And there's more. In the bathrooms, you find the most beautiful classic faucets, you sleep in fantastic hotel-like beds, the sofas and armchairs are made of beautiful velvet, and the carpeting is butter-soft. And then that Marie Antoinette-style decor of the dining room, with all those rich chandeliers: it's just so amazing and luxurious that it makes you feel sick. Moreover, the service is impeccable and the scale shows six kilos less. And so I am now ruined, because all the hotels you visit after Le Meurice, well, they just don't compare to Le Meurice. No matter how hard other hotels try. Secretly, I always think: SUPER nice try, people, don't get me wrong. But still a shame.
The simple soul now says: duh, then you should just sleep at Le Meurice from now on? But that's a super stupid solution, because I want to see more than just Paris AND I'm unfortunately a bit less fortunate than we all might think.
“It's either saving until I weigh an ounce or hiding in the suitcase of a rich French businessman”
So what now? What will become of my trip to Paris? I don't know. There's a blackout. It's either saving until I weigh an ounce or hiding in the suitcase of a rich French businessman or you all need to give me money immediately. Personally, I prefer the latter, because you have to have talent for saving, I think. And I don't have that. And that businessman plan, well, that's of course a stupid plan, because I don't fit in a suitcase at all. In short: you have no choice, it's going to be money transfers, people, all for a good cause, shall we say.
Renske's account number is known to the editorial staff.
