I was 16 years old the first time I walked into the lobby of the Paris Ritz, and was immediately kicked out for wearing ripped jeans. My mother, who had begged me not to pack those jeans, gave me an I told you so glare as we walked out, but I could only think about how I had easily made it past the door of the Notre-Dame that morning, the Louvre after lunch, and L’Entrecôte for dinner. I think back on that day and now realize that the reason the Ritz is so special is because it is as holy as a medieval cathedral, as culturally significant as a canonical museum, and, perhaps, just as coveted as steak frites. —Carolina de Armas

Carolina de Armas is an Associate Editor at AIR MAIL