Paris: The City of Lights by Suzanne Wright Paris, it must be said, manages to be glorious any time of year, even in the dead of winter, with slushy streets and gray skies, when you should be bundled up like a French version of the Michelin man. The City of Lights has a certain je nais c’est quois — just ask couples of any sort. You do remember Tom Cruise popping the question to Katie Holmes at the Eiffel Tower last summer, don’t you? An eight-hour plane ride will land you in Paris. Really, is there any better place to practice the art of amour for a long romantic weekend? (Can you say “brownie points?”) Do as any self-respecting Parisian would do: check into an unabashedly sumptuous hotel immediately. We split our time at Christmas between two very esteemed properties. You will feel tres chic. We checked into the George V, a Four Seasons property located off the Champs-Elysses. In front of the stately white Art Deco facade, a well-behaved crowd of mostly teens and twentysomethings was standing behind ropes; we later learned Mariah Carey was staying in the hotel. It is the unique ability of five-star hotels to effortlessly make everyone feel like a superstar. Our suite was done up in golden tones with French Provincial furniture (my childhood bedroom set was never this smart). The rooms, said to be the largest in the city, demand you loll, and I can assure you I have cultivated a fine sense of lazing about in luxe surroundings. Pampered as we felt in the room, we swooned at the magnificent spa and pool. The sky above is blue with fluffy white clouds and frescoes that recall the gardens of Versailles looming over the swimming pool. Bottles of Evian and fat white towels were placed on the poolside lounges. Suddenly, it was summer. There is surely no better way to arrest jet lag. The hotel’s restaurant has three Michelin stars, but I botched our reservation. Still, in a city of such culinary magnitude, a solution presented itself. Around the corner and recommended by both a taxi driver and the concierge, we dined at Restaurant Noura, with superb Lebanese food, solicitous staff and arresting purple and fuchsia décor. Paris with the right person is magical. Walking the streets hand-in-hand. Strolling past the banks of the River Seine. Ascending by funicular to Sacred Coeur with its breathtaking views. Letting macaroons dissolve like a whisper on your tongue at Laduree. Nuzzling your honey while languidly sipping a cappuccino at a darkened café. Taking in the avant garde art at the Pompidou Center. Marveling over the flying buttresses of Notre Dame. Even the tantalizingly vexing one-hour queue for chocolate at Maison du Chocolat is soothed with your sweetie by your side — and a cup of steaming hot chocolate. We had dinner at Chez Flottes, a wood-paneled brasserie with stained glass windows tucked off the Place de la Concorde. A Jack Russell terrier named Taxi sat politely by my feet on the marble floor while our waiter, who bore an uncanny resemblance to actor Paul Sorvino, brought us perfect crocks of onion soup and a definitive version of roasted chicken with wild mushrooms. We almost didn’t notice the wafting smoke of our fellow patrons, so enthralled were we with this neighborhood haunt. Next we checked into Le Meurice, part of the Leading Hotels of the World, facing the Tuileries Gardens and near the Louvre. Our room faced the interior courtyard and was both spacious and serene, an oasis in the city. The yellow and rose Louis XVII interiors were well-appointed, but it was the bathroom that knocked us out, with its expanses of white and gray marble, dual sinks and clawfoot tub. Again, we took watery refuge to rejuvenate us from the frosty weather. That evening, after cocktails at Le Jardin d’Hiver (literally, a winter garden) under the soaring Art Nouveau glass ceiling, we dined at the hotel’s lavish gastronomic, three-star Michelin restaurant. Course after course materialized during our nearly four-hour meal, including sea scallops with foie gras and sea urchin; sweetbreads with frog legs and asparagus; and a pear-roasted tart with vanilla caramel ice cream. Dreams were indeed sweet that night. And what’s Paris without a little shopping? I bought a jaunty hot pink beret and a knockoff watch for 15 Euros. But mostly, we enjoyed wandering the quiet cobblestone streets, admiring the striking displays in window after window. We wrote a couple of postcards home in a cozy café. I feel this is Paris at its best. For our final meal, we headed to Mon Vieil Ami (literally, my old friend), a snug and simple restaurant with a few closely placed tables and sweet-natured service. We tucked into green lentils with Arabic spices; a warm salad of seasonal vegetables; and parmentier, a casserole with beef, garlic and onion confit and mashed potatoes. On the taxi ride back to the hotel, we sailed in silence past the glittering nightscape, a Ferris wheel erected for the holidays, building after regal building, snow-banked streets, couples arm-in-arm. A moment later, the Eiffel Tower began twinkling, something it does but once an hour. It’s magical, Paris. For reservations: George V: www.paris.fourseasons.com or (800) 819-5053; Le Meurice: www.meuricehotel.com or (800) 745-8883.
				Above: Images of the romantic city Paris France.