The room initially looked beautifully curated and moody, but was very cold when we returned around midnight, and the non‑backlit temperature panel in the already dim space meant using a phone torch to operate basic heating. Once the heating and ventilation were switched off, a relentless, loud ventilation noise made sleep almost impossible.
No one answered our two late‑night calls to the “24‑hour” front desk, so my spouse had to go down in person, where staff admitted there was a known ventilation issue and offered only to move us, in the middle of the night, to a smaller room with a smaller bed on the seventh floor. The next morning, no one proactively followed up; when we raised the issue, reception first tried to normalise the noise by citing French regulations, then changed their tone only after we played them a recording and they acknowledged the problem was known on the first and second floors.
Instead of meaningful recovery—such as waiving our €90 fee for late checkout or offering breakfast—service felt performative, including small talk about whether I worked in fashion, which implied treatment might depend on a guest’s perceived status. We were ultimately given a business card with a handwritten email and told to “send an email”, while the hotel continues to sell affected rooms as “soundproofed”.
Other small details, like a poorly sealed shower door that floods the bathroom floor, reinforce the impression of style over basic comfort.
