I’ve always been drawn to Europe’s grand hotels, those whose walls have stories to tell and secrets to keep. To me, they represent permanence, unruffled by the turbulent world outside. Serene and privileged bastions of good living, they are both glamorous and exciting, with famous faces never far away, and at the same time reassuring, historic and full of dignity and a sense of importance. 

When I was a young and penniless, they often became havens where I would smarten myself up and while away time in their palm courts, grand cafés and terraces, dreaming that I was an honoured guest with a suite upstairs rather than a backpacker who’d blown her budget on a pot of their tea or a glass of wine....