“On this trip to Warsaw, I’m pretending I’m in a different century,” I tell my butler, Maciej, as he escorts me to my room at Raffles Europejski Warsaw, which has been around since 1857. Seeing as I make this declaration under a Bohemia glass chandelier modelled after the ones in the nearby Royal Castle and to my very own butler – they come standard with every room at this grand dame – I feel like I’m already making good on this promise.
Maciej gamely plays along and calls me “madame”, while showing me the neoclassical view from my windows. I focus on the elegant square in front of the Saxon Gardens, resolutely ignoring the skyscrapers sprouting from the tree line. I already knew Warsaw was booming economically, and everyone who has visited is quick to toot its up-and-coming coolness (especially in the gritty Brooklyn-esque Praga neighbourhood). But I was wondering if it could still be picturesque, romantic, and classically beautiful. Was it still deserving of its interwar moniker: the Paris of the North?
