King George

Of all the hotels in the world, and I do love hotels, the George V Paris has always been my favorite.  Ah, if only so rich to call this place home each time I visit this great city.  Opulent yet understated, luxurious yet not flamboyant, this bastion of style and refinement is a haven for the who's who of the who's who.  Discretion is paramount, privacy has primacy.

"Good morning, Mrs. Danyluk, shall I call you a car?  Good afternoon Mrs. Danyluk, how was your shopping excursion?  Good evening Mrs. Danyluk, your dinner reservations are confirmed."  The counter behind the concierge overflows with the ribbon bedecked boxes of every major luxury design house from Avenue Montainge to Rue St. Honoré.  The spa - heaven, equipped with a pre-treatment relaxation room overlooking the Romanesque pool - befitting the Queen herself.  My husband came back from the gym remarking wouldn't it be nice if someone always handed him a chilled, mint-infused towel halfway through his workout.

If not impressed with the marble on marble on more marble architecture, the accompanying Greg Leatham orgasm of flowers is enough to make one well  ...enough said.

Alas, our fairy tale ends tomorrow.  Can't stay here too long, the creditors will soon find us.  Got to keep moving anyway, there is much to do and see.  Tomorrow it's off to the South.

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