The sun has set in Monte-Carlo and the playboy’s paradise is gearing up for another night of gambling and glamour. Having over-indulged on exquisitely crafted cakes made by rock star pastry chef Cédric Grolet earlier that day, I’m feeling a little woozy. Hoping a cold shower and a cocktail dress will sort me out, I freshen up and head for Casino Square, home to Charles Garnier’s magnificent opera house.
Presenting my passport to the warden, I’m ushered into the Salle Europe, the casino’s hedonistic heart. In one corner ballerina Bambis turn like sugar plum fairies around a Christmas tree. In another, a row of slot machines flash their neon lights, beckoning me to sit down and play. Croupiers in black tie man the roulette tables, spinning vintage wheels for smartly dressed punters hoping lady luck is shining on them. A woman in a gypsy-like headdress reclines on a velvet sofa as if waiting to tell fortunes.
Walking through its labyrinth of rooms, I’m struck by how breathtakingly beautiful the Beaux-Arts space is, with its soaring ceilings, glinting chandeliers, ornate stucco work and abundance of gold. Slot machines aside, the scene I’m witnessing feels like it could have taken place in any number of centuries.
Monte-Carlo has long been a byword for luxury living. The name alone conjures images of classic cars and high rollers misbehaving on the French Riviera. The billionaire’s playground is synonymous with decadence, debauchery, and the finer things in life.
During my short stay I’m privy to many of them, being plied with Perrier-Joüet Champagne at Belle Epoque beauty the Hôtel Hermitage; nibbling on creamy caviar slathered generously onto potato rosti at Cédric Grolet; devouring lobster claws at Pavyllon, celebrity chef Yannick Alléno’s Monaco bolthole; and necking oysters dotted like Dalmatians at two Michelin-starred Japanese restaurant L’Abysse, where I’m given a front row seat to the action at the kitchen counter.
It’s almost too much of a good thing, but that’s the thing about Monte-Carlo; you have instant access to 24/7 luxury if you want it. All you need is a strong stomach and deep pockets. Spanning just 500 acres, the city-state of Monaco is only slightly larger than Hyde Park, so navigating its gilded streets in the height of summer can be fraught, making off-season the perfect time to visit. While I’m there in late November the sun shines constantly and it’s t-shirt weather, which seems at odds with all the Christmas preparations going on.
Hotel lobbies smell of cinnamon and inside the Hôtel de Paris – a home from home for Elizabeth Taylor – is a towering tree designed by Chopard featuring hundreds of gold baubles floating up to the ceiling like bubbles in a Champagne flute.
After my slightly surreal casino visit I head to the Bar Américain in the Hôtel de Paris’s former reading room, where everyone from Frank Sinatra to Lady Gaga have tickled the ivories. Musicians in pale pink blazers and dickie bows perform crowd-pleasing jazz tracks while bartenders shake up classic cocktails.
Still feeling fragile, I stick to fresh mint tea poured from a gleaming silver pot. Enjoying the music, I think about all the stars that have been here before, from Richard Burton to Sir Roger Moore, who visited so often that he had his own table.
French author Colette ordered the same thing whenever she swung by: a glass of barley water and a handful of radishes. The next morning I fling open the shutters of my spacious suite at the Hôtel Hermitage and am greeted by clear blue skies and the odd seagull that stops to perch on my balcony.
Everything about the Hôtel Hermitage feels like stepping back in time, from its Belle Epoque artworks by Henri Gervex and Gabriel Ferrier, and the spectacular stained glass roof in the Winter Garden designed by Gustave Eiffel, to its ample corridors that allowed for two ladies in gowns with wide crinoline petticoats to pass each other with ease.
Fresh flowers have been left by my bedside along with a box containing a pair of madeleines shaped like scallop shells, which I scoff on my terrace with a cup of lime blossom tea, thinking how much Proust would have approved of this moment of revery. Savouring it, I drink in the view in front of me: the yachts floating in the harbour, the sunlight sparkling off the water, the villas carved into the cliffs.
Le Limún bar just beyond the lobby is one of the prime people-watching spots in Monaco. With its elegant eau de nil paintwork, stucco ceiling, Art Nouveau mirrors and dainty cakes behind glass, it’s one of the prettiest hotel spaces I’ve had the pleasure of dining in.
Ladies with big hair and bigger sunglasses sit at marble-topped tables chatting and drinking endless cups of coffee, small dogs with eager faces sat patiently by their side. I order the steak tartare adorned with crispy fried onions and a giant caper. My fries are served with a tiny pot of Hôtel Hermitage-branded mayonnaise. The lunch is perfection in its simplicity.
Afterwards I’m led deep underground to the cellars of the Hôtel de Paris, which were created in 1864 by Marie Blanc, the enterprising wife of the hotel’s founder, François Blanc. I’ve seen some impressive cellars in my time but nothing quite like this. The breadth of its inventory is astonishing.
Every big name you can imagine is here, from Château Lafite, Margaux and Yquem to Pétrus, DRC and Krug. It’s an oenophile’s delight stocked with over 300,000 bottles of the finest wines known to humanity. Just as well, as the hotel’s guests guzzle over 100,000 bottles of Champagne a year.
I’m told by Laura, the sparky sommelier leading my tour, that I’m walking in the footsteps of Sir Winston Churchill, a regular guest of the Hôtel de Paris, where he kept a pair of parrots. While marvelling at some of the cellar’s oldest bottles, I spot a framed photograph of actress Grace Kelly, who swapped the Hollywood hills for the French Riviera when she married Prince Rainier III of Monaco in 1956. Just a year earlier she starred alongside Carry Grant in the Alfred Hitchcock caper To Catch a Thief, which was filmed in and around Monte-Carlo.
Those seeking the last word in luxury can book the Hôtel de Paris’s €50,000 a night Grace Kelly suite, which is always filled with white roses (her favourite flower) and features a room modelled on her office at the Prince’s Palace. For the best views of Monte-Carlo and the Med beyond, take a stroll through the Jardin Exotique, which featured in the 2020 adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. With its giant cacti and tropical blooms, it’s worth the climb.
Double rooms at the Hôtel Hermitage start at £320 a night. For more information or to book visit montecarlosbm.com or booking.com
