The captivating history of Paris's world-famous Hôtel Ritz—a breathtaking tale of glamour, opulence, and celebrity; dangerous liaisons, espionage, and resistance—from the New York Times bestselling author of The Widow Clicquot and The Secret of Chanel No. 5--sets against the backdrop of the Nazi occupation of World War II.
The Hôtel Ritz, which opened in 1898 on Place Vendôme in the heart of Paris, became an immediate symbol of the city, attracting cinema stars and renowned authors, American heiresses and risqué flappers, politicians, playboys, and princes. By Adolf Hitler's decree, it was the only luxury hotel of its sort allowed in the occupied city after France surrendered to the Germans in June 1940.
Tilar J. Mazzeo chronicles the history of this cultural icon, beginning with its establishment in late-nineteenth-century Paris. The Hotel on Place Vendôme is an exceptional account of life at the Ritz during WWII, when the Hôtel served as both a headquarters for high-ranking German commanders like as Reichsmarshal Hermann Göring and a residence for elite clientele such as Coco Chanel. Mazzeo takes us inside the grand palace's suites, bars, dining rooms, and wine cellars, revealing a hotbed of illicit affairs and deadly intrigue, as well as stunning acts of defiance and treachery, where refugees were hidden in secret rooms, a Jewish bartender passed coded messages for the German resistance, and Wehrmacht officers plotted the Führer's assassination. However, as she points out, not everyone at the Ritz in the spring of 1940 would live to see the conclusion of the war.
The Hotel on Place Vendôme is a remarkable look at this extraordinary place and the people and events that made it legend; the crucible where the future of post-war France—and all of post-war Europe—was transformed. Rich in detail and illustrated with black-and-white photos, The Hotel on Place Vendôme is a remarkable look at this extraordinary place and the people and events that made it legend; the crucible where the future of post-war France—and all of post-war Europe.
It was the heart of any true moment of decadence: the knowledge that an epoque is already slipping from us, inexorably, even in the moment of its glory.
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