Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo

In the lobby of the Hôtel de Paris, Louis XIV sits on a bronze horse, and one of the horse's knees is brighter than the rest. Touching it is supposed to bring luck at the tables, and generations of guests have rubbed it until it gleams. The Casino is just across the square, where fortune comes and goes as it pleases. The hotel plays a different game, and the knee is the only gamble in the building.

It fills one side of the Place du Casino, a wedding cake of Belle Époque stone with Monte-Carlo arranged around it. A long renovation has refreshed it from cellar to roof without making it any less grand. Under the domed lobby ceiling, painted naiads and Tritons keep an eye on the comings and goings. Beyond lies a planted patio open to the sky, where palms grow between marble walls and the pastries of Cédric Grolet draw passers-by in from the street. Jewellers line it too, handy for anyone on a winning streak.

There are just over two hundred rooms, and more than half of them are suites. The smallest measures thirty-four square metres, which in Paris itself would pass for a small apartment. Nearly all of them have outdoor space, with views of the square or the sea. At the very top, the Princess Grace suite spreads over two floors with a heated pool on its terrace, for guests who find the Mediterranean a little crowded.

The evening ritual starts at the Bar Américain, where a band plays every night. From its terrace, the parade of supercars and flashbulbs on the square becomes a show to watch rather than join. Then it is back through the lobby for a hand on that knee, and across the square to the Casino. Whatever happens at the tables, the retreat is only a few steps long, and the bar is still open.

The main dining room, Le Louis XV, is where Alain Ducasse, at thirty-three, became the first chef to win three Michelin stars in a grand hotel. For decades since, it has been one of the most lavish dining rooms anywhere, all gilt and chandeliers. Oddly, the plates often make heroes of modest things, from Riviera vegetables to fish off the local boats. Le Grill makes the case for a second dinner, with a night at the Casino in between. On warm evenings, the roof of that eighth-floor dining room rolls back to let the night in.

Certainty has its drawbacks too. The square outside is busy from breakfast until late, with visitors photographing the cars as much as the building. The rooftop club has a pool, but serious spa days happen at the Thermes Marins next door, shared with guests of other hotels and day visitors. During the Grand Prix, the circuit runs right outside, and the square belongs to the engines.

Across the square, the house always wins. At the Hôtel de Paris the odds are reversed. The guest wins every night, and the horse's knee gets polished mostly out of habit.