[I] know, a chateau can hardly be called a hideaway but that is how it felt staying at this 1892 mansion in the sixteenth arrondissement: the Saint James Paris. Tucked away behind old stone walls that seemed to hug you as you walked through the grand entrance, it was like a childhood dream to stay in a place so whimsical and Parisian. A porthole to the city, a Alice and Wonderland seeming staircase, a glowing aura of magical things to come. From the roaring fireplace when you walk through the doors to the resident cat who will paw at the window until you let him in, this place floats in my mind as a safe haven tucked away in a corner of Paris…

My long running affinity for Paris continues here…