Hôtel du Collectionneur

In 1925, Paris was invited to inspect the home of a very rich man who did not exist. For the International Exhibition of Decorative Arts, Jacques-Émile Ruhlmann furnished an entire mansion for an imaginary collector. Pierre Patout designed the building; artists supplied paintings and sculpture; visitors could see what impeccable taste looked like when money was no obstacle. When the exhibition ended, the house disappeared. Its owner had never needed a forwarding address.

Almost eighty years later, someone gave him a hotel. The Hilton Arc de Triomphe opened on rue de Courcelles in 2004, an enormous new building dressed in the glamour of the great French ocean liners. It became Hôtel du Collectionneur in 2012, borrowing the name of Ruhlmann's famous pavilion. The joke has survived better than you might expect: the original collector's home was a beautifully staged fantasy, and here is another one, ready to rent by the night.

Only this collector has a great many houseguests. There are 497 rooms and suites, and the marble-and-brass lobby has the scale to match. The curves, symmetry and gleaming surfaces make a persuasive case for a voyage in first class. So does the steady traffic through the public rooms. This is a large hotel with meetings and celebrations as well as holidaymakers; at busy times you may feel less like the owner of an Art Deco mansion than one passenger among several hundred. For some travellers that bustle is part of a grand hotel's appeal. Others will miss a front door that feels like their own.

Upstairs, however, the practicalities are better than the theatrical introduction suggests. Many rooms measure a comfortable thirty square metres, with pale marble bathrooms and headboards decorated with alabaster. The useful decision is often not how big a room to book but which way it faces. A Deluxe Garden looks onto the hotel's greenery. A Prestige Balcony gives you somewhere to sit above Paris, while a Prestige Eiffel buys the famous landmark without necessarily buying extra floor space. The hotel lists only seven rooms in that last category. Ask for the outlook you actually want, not simply the grandest adjective.

The patio is a particularly good reason to stay downstairs. Behind the restaurant, sixty seats are tucked between green walls, a welcome alternative to the formality of the lobby. Lunch here feels like an escape from the hotel's size. The bar is more sociable, with a long granite counter and enough people passing through to make a drink interesting. Just check the dining arrangements: the hotel's current information promotes restaurant lunch and Sunday brunch, rather than promising a full dinner service every night. Room service, at least, runs around the clock.

There is a newly refreshed Art Deco spa, with a proper indoor swimming pool, sauna and hammam. It is a substantial pleasure in a city where a hotel pool is often little more than an elaborate bathtub. But note the booking conditions: complimentary spa access is advertised for stays reserved directly with the hotel. A guest booking elsewhere should check what is included before making swimming plans.

Beyond the doors, Parc Monceau is practically across the road, and the Musée Nissim de Camondo offers another extraordinary collector's house within walking distance—this time one that really was lived in. The Champs-Élysées and Arc de Triomphe are close too, though this is a quieter corner of the eighth arrondissement than the great shopping avenues.

Ruhlmann built a house to be admired. The more interesting question here is whether you enjoy living in it alongside everyone else. In a comfortable room above the garden, that can be a very pleasant answer.