THE ROMANTIC VALENTINE'S DAY WEEKEND IN MONTREAL

Posted by

(Warning: Super-romantic post ahead. Gentlemen readers may want to brace for impact.) Once upon a time, a knight in shining armour called me up and said, “My Lady, allow me to show you a Valentine’s Day in Montreal you’ll never forget.” Not one to resist such chivalry, I jumped out of my slippers and PJs, threw on some red lipstick and donned my cutest LBD…

Our first stop was Le Maître Chocolatier, where we picked up a box of haute, hand-made chocolates. I nibbled on these all the way down to the ultra-luxurious Hôtel Le St-James. A dapper doorman greeted us and, once inside, the receptionist slipped us the room key. But first there were welcome cocktails waiting in the chic XO Lounge. Who needs mistletoe when there are sparkly chandeliers? Next, it was up the elevator to our posh digs, complete with king-size bed, plush down comforter and exquisite marble floors. “Cherie d’amour,” said my Romeo (whom in my dream is French, by the way – yes, way too many viewings of Camelot), “do not get too comfortable. We have a rendez-vous at Le Spa.”

The spa’s private dressing room was an experience in itself. The elegant and private space, large enough for two, boasts a built-in dry sauna and steam room, Molten Brown amenities, plus two soft-as-heaven Frette robes. The rain shower (yup, large enough for two) had jets aimed at us from all angles. And what better way to get you into the mood than a couple’s massage? In the dreamy Old World treatment room (it used to be a vault), we were surrounded by original stonewalls, soothing candles and calming music – and treated to a rub-down of 60 blissful minutes.

Back in our room, there was a package from Holt Renfrew waiting on the bed, a large magenta box containing a shimmery Michael Kors dress. Apparently, “someone” had arranged an appointment with a personal shopper at the high-end department store the day before. “Merci, mon petit chou!” (Oh yeah, in my dream, I speak fluent French too.) On the nightstand, a beautiful exotic bouquet (also from Holt’s) had already been arranged in a crystal vase. I read the handwritten note aloud: “The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses. ~ e. e. cummings.” Dot, dot, dot…

At 8 p.m., we drove to Le Club Chasse & Peche, one of my favourite restaurants in Old Montreal. The mysterious ambiance of this sophisticated Modern French restaurant was filled with hushed whisperings from neighbouring tables, punctuated only by the angelic clinking of our champagne flutes. Before retiring back to our hotel, Prince Charming and I spent a of couple hours taking in smooth musical riffs at the Upstairs Jazz Bar. Just before midnight, I looked lovingly at my man (whom by the way was a retired fashion model turned real-estate tycoon) and the magic of true love swelled in my heart. And yes, of course, we lived happily ever after in Montreal…

Top