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F&M at Hotel d'Angleterre's 260 year anniversary

gudinde

By gudinde
in Events 2015

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gudinde Newbie

gudinde

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25. april 2015

Kronprinsparret deltager i gallafest på Hotel d'Angleterre i anledning af hotellets 260-års fødselsdag, København, kl. 19.00.

25 April 2015, 7:00 pm

The Crown Princely Couple participate in gala celebration at Hotel d'Angleterre on the occasion of the hotel's 260 year anniversary,

Copenhagen.

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Vik Newbie

Vik

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The Angleterre has recently undergone an upgrade. Even now, there is so much construction out the front of the hotel at Kongens Nytorv that it's quite difficult to still get into the hotel!

Looking forward to seeing the photos from this event.

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mls Grand Master

mls

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https://scontent-fra.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/t31.0-8/s960x960/11160635_862838963783580_6541544945215766525_o.jpg

https://scontent-fra.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpa1/v/t1.0-9/11173338_862840657116744_8788828189810469391_n.jpg?oh=1ba25418e3af9e3fb30be4976e407833&oe=559B5713

http://kongehuset.dk/materialemappe/gallerier/2015/april/hotel-dangleterres-260-ars-fodselsdag/hotel-dangleterres-260-ars-fodselsdag.img

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bonsai Newbie

bonsai

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:haha::jump:

http://pagesix.com/2015/05/04/tales-from-copenhagen/

Tales from Copenhagen

By Cindy Adams May 4, 2015

I’m back. From downtown Copenhagen. I was resting my bones and celebrating the 260th anniversary of its premier hotel, the five-star d’Angleterre, circa 1755.

Now, let me tell you about practical Denmark.

You say you’re shivering in the chill? They say: “Not the weather’s problem. It’s your clothing.” Buildings bearing their “1619” date still work. They say: “These aren’t taken down in case we want them used for something else.” Three bridges are just for bicycles. Without helmets. They say: “No rules or people won’t ride bikes.”

Ask so how did your people create Lego? “Because we’re clever.” Ask isn’t it great you’ve so many hours of daylight? “Yes. Sit long, talk much.”

Oy, are they practical. Surrounded by water, canals connecting 400 islands, the country lives by its harbor. Also its wits. In ye auld days of mariners gone by and landlubber menfolk gone off, and sailors gone ashore, how might an itchy, salt-of-the-sea setting foot — or any other available part — on land after a long seafaring journey tell if his ladyfriend’s coast was clear? Little doggy statuettes on the window sill. Backside out, rump facing the road, tail pointing streetward meant go find another port to call, pal.

Socially democratic, home to Hans Christian Andersen, Sonja Henie, the famous Little Mermaid statue, Denmark appears neither judgmental nor sexist. Everyone speaks English. During WWII, it rescued Jews. In today’s feminism war, its monarch is Queen Margrethe, and 50 percent of its ministers are women.

VIP party quite fancy

I share one great unknown story: For this d’Angleterre celebration, dress code was black-tie; long dress. Attendance: 6:15 promptly for security and photography.

Ambassadors, VIPs, Europe’s titled at attention.

Music, drum roll, flashlights, announcement, anthem, aides-de-camp encamped as Their Royal Highnesses the Crown Prince Frederik and Crown Princess Mary arrived.

And, thank you for asking, no they did not exactly share their Danish at my same table.

When royalty goes to the dogs

But: A while back they’d visited New York’s elegant East Side duplex of Clinton’s former envoy to Denmark, Ambassador Edward Elson. An accident had placed the prince in a temporary leg brace.

Outside Ambassador and Susie Elson’s vestibule, awaiting an elevator, in formal official regalia, flanked by uniformed equerries, stood — with the help of crutches — these movie star gorgeous Royal Highnesses. Forget nines. They were dressed to the 12’s.

Pay attention: Nobody’d bothered to inform me I’d be sharing my small hallway with a nice king-in-waiting. So, blissfully unaware, I in my pj’s, bearing trash, flung wide a nearby apartment door. This also flung out two Yorkies. Both commoners. Jazzy and Juicy lunged for the prince and princess. Unable to disappear, I stood, in shock, balancing empty dog-food containers, a banana peel and remnants of apricot yogurt at the same time I tried — with one available hand — clawing two barking, 3 ¹/₂- pound Yorkshire terriers off Her Royal Highness’ glorious floor-length ball gown.

This pair was obviously not headed for the movies.

All the while, staring, in silence, rigid, frozen in marble, stood their sashed and bemedalled uniformed equerries.

The prince well remembered the incident.

Hotel deluxe

The d’Angleterre. Begun as a love story via King Frederick V’s chef’s daughter, reinvented by today’s chairman Else Marie Remmen, original details remain — fireplaces, centuries-old lamps, wide corridors for crinoline’d ladies to glide by. Above every modern convenience — including Michelin-starred restaurant and the largest hotel pool — are Biedermeier vitrines, Andy Warhol originals, Winterhalter’s Queen Victoria oil.

To honor the hotel’s celebration, Scandinavia’s largest airline, SAS, invited me. Unlike our domestic carriers’ Eva Brauns, their cabin crew smiled, chatted, were friendly. With today’s no leg room, no behind room, third class, poverty class, dungeon class, condemned class, SAS business class was like old-time first class. The pleasantest flight I remember having.

Anyway, I just landed and, walking through customs, passed the greatest sign in the whole world: “Welcome to the United States of America.”

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