Paris Nightlife

This article originally appeared at: TheNativeSociety. The text that can be found at that link is reproduced below.

The “egalite” portion of the French motto “liberte, egalite, fraternite,” does not apply to Parisian nightlife. If you are in town, there are only three places you want to be after 1am. They are of course: Le Baron, Le Montana and Chez Raspoutine.

Sure, there are other bars, but there are also people who wear Ed Hardy T-Shirts and live in Saint-Denis. You don’t want to party with them any more than you want to end up in some dreadful boite like Madame.

“Numero six, Avenue Marceau.” Sear those words into your brain. Le Baron has seemingly been open forever, and it’s not going anywhere. Even though some of the regulars have recently eschewed Baron for Montana, they still bring in a great crowd that is laden with people in the arts and fashion. Don’t even think of sauntering up to the door in a suit. If they smell career on you, you’ll be packing your bags and heading around the corner to BC or the bar at the George V. To explicate the “eclectic” type of people who grace this bar…an anecdote: My personal favorite patron was a gentleman who wore a bathrobe to the Baron. I asked him if he was trying to channel The Big Lebowski. He launched into a treatise on fashion. His bathrobe cost 400 euro, and he was trying to mix haute couture with looking like a homeless person…or something.

28 Rue Saint-Benoit, is it bad that I know all of these addresses by heart? Le Montana is the place to be on the left bank. Right next door to perennially hip pre-game spot Café De Flore, Montana has seemingly supplanted Le Baron atop the mountain as THE go-to destination for wannabe artist trustfund kids and the models that love them. It’s a split-level space. Upstairs there is a long bar and a few tables for early evening conversation. Downstairs amidst spotty cell phone service and revolting bathrooms is where the magic happens. There is another bar and a few tables for bottle service. Pretty much anything goes at Montana. Last week Dita Von Teese was spotted straddling her boyfriend in a booth and aggressively molesting him. The DJ plays a wide selection of music across every genre with seemingly no rhyme or reason to the progression, and the parties often end well after the sun has risen.

Finally, we have 58 rue de Bassano, Chez Raspoutine. If Montana is the ultimate prize for the hipsters of Paris, then Raspoutine is the golden ring for the slightly older and more corporate set. While a nice suit will get you nothing more than a sneer and a rejection at Montana, it would not be out of place at Raspoutine. Don’t expect your cell phone to work once you descend into the depths of the bar, but do expect a wealth of bottle service tables made up with a table cloth and a full compliment of models.


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