My favorite fragrance used to be Le Ritz Paris. It was a deep amber that hit you the minute you spun through the hotel’s revolving door. It felt warm and rich and, to my wholly American sensibilities, like the distillation of French luxury.
I’m not entirely sure if I really loved the fragrance or the place itself and its almost comical opulence: satin duvets and gold swan faucets, cocktails garnished with roses, sweet butter stamped with swirly R’s, gym equipment wrapped in peach terry cloth, and music piped underwater in the pool.
