Maison Armance, Paris 

The location… Maison Armance is tucked away in a courtyard behind one of those massive old blue doors on Rue Cambon in the 1st arrondissement. A whisper from Rue de Rivoli, with the English bookstore Smith and Son on the corner, the hotel faces Brasserie Flottes and an always-tempting Pierre Hermé macaron boutique—quintessentially Parisian.

The vibe… The Maison, with its quiet residential courtyard, was once home to the 19th-century French author Stendhal and is named for his first novel, Armance. With 20 guest rooms starting on the third floor and the lobby at the top on the 6th floor—all connected by a perfectly creaky spiral staircase and small elevator—it feels more like staying in a pied-a-terre than a hotel. We settled down for six nights in two rooms with king beds, connected by a hallway with a separate entryway door (rooms 34 and 35, a family suite).  

The rooms… The rooms are intuitively designed with outlets and USB ports just about everywhere you reach for one, while the furnishings, lighting and decor are modern but timeless: all blues and pale golds, muted browns and cream. The bathrooms are small but modern, with products from Codage. 

The food and drink… The upstairs lobby is well designed with a nice little café area, coffee-table art books, and comfy couches, understated and elegant. They serve a breakfast of good coffee and pastries, and in the afternoon there’s a well-curated honor bar and tea service (with chocolat-chaud, which our girls loved!). We saw a few smartly dressed guests enjoying a morning bite while discussing their plans, or ending their evenings with a nightcap, but it never felt crowded and there was always a cozy spot available to sit. 

Parting words… I really can’t say enough about how welcoming the hotel was. It’s not fancy, with standard rooms starting at 270€, but it hits all the right notes: a sense of place and charm, warm service, good location. And the property is even home to a French bulldog named Filou (his owner has a small business in one of the offices in the courtyard). Maya, our dog-obsessed 9-year-old daughter, waited for him to greet her each morning or afternoon for a belly rub. It was always like, “Cue the cute French bulldog!”