Take the Party Train to Paris, they told me. For One Night Only, go live it up in the City of Light. I believed the hype, recalled the good things I'd heard about Parisian nightlife and decided that the girls and I should paint the town rouge.
We stepped onto the 6pm Eurostar in our best Saturday night shoes, hoping to exchange enigmatic smiles with Gitane-wielding gentlemen and clubbing tips with other party travellers. Alas, we were seated beside a contingent of happy-clappy Christians who serenaded us with tuneful warnings about the wages of sin the whole way. Maybe they were on the Heavenly Express but we were on the Party Train. For the trifling sum of £35, you leave London on Saturday evening, party in Paris until dawn, then collapse back onto a train next morning.
The girls glared icily and ordered champagne, then started applying warpaint in industrial quantities. The singers crooned a happy little number about wanton women and we tried hard to look even more debauched by uncrossing our legs at the ankles, pouting in the manner of French starlets, and plotting the evening's activities.
The plan went something like this: arrive in Paris late evening, plenty of time for some dinner in the chic Marais area, then we'd investigate some late bars and perhaps a club or two. No sleep, best frocks, no lightweights and no stopping us.
Even our somewhat inappropriate footwear didn't seem a problem - at that point. We tottered (on vertiginous heels) into town and dined like queens in a brasserie - one of the ubiquitous neighbourhood eateries that invariably serve very haute cuisine at very reasonable prices. Our four-course dinner and several liquid refreshments cost little more than £20 each - about the same as a beer and curry feast back in Blighty. After digestifs , we entertained thoughts of trying out our waiter's recommendations, the 'ip and 'appening Buddha Bar (not least in the hope of entertaining the waiter again, bien sûr ). Sadly, we had but two pairs of walkable shoes between us, and we'd missed the last Metro.
Never try to get a taxi in Paris on a Saturday night; bring boots made for walking and a map instead. We started to sashay towards the Buddha Bar, but our strappy shoes demurred.
And that is why we ended up in the highly questionable Club Atlantis on quai d'Austerlitz, m'Lord. Honest. We were hobbling along irritably when we happened upon Atlantis. The music was pumping, the bar was serving, the Buddha Bar was too bloody far, it was midnight already and our feet were killing us. In short, our glam night out was about to be jeopardised by our unforgiving Manolos and blister-inducing Jimmy Choos. As we passed through the metal detectors in Atlantis, we assured the stern doormen that we had no need to 'check our pieces' (check in our guns) although naturally we were flattered to be asked.
Alas, Atlantis wasn't the sort of place where three nice girls can dance happily around their handbags. It was one-on-one action only, not so much bump'n'grind as 'Please! Give us room!' and 'Is that legal in France?' Swarms of would-be Romeos descended like flies. We ran for the door, footwear forgotten. A chivalrous taxi driver on his way home took pity on us and heroically brought les belles filles to a happening part of town, the 11ème. We fortified ourselves with a swift absinthe in La Buvette and then headed to nearby Rue Oberkampf where we shook our tail feathers at La Cithéa and Café Charbon. Sunday dawned as we indulged in a gleeful frenzy of bar-hopping and elegant dancing on zinc table tops.
For the price of a night out in London, we were having the time of our lives in Paris. It is a lightning visit - to get the cheap fare, you have to leave London after 4pm on Saturday and return before 10.30am on Sunday. Not really enough time to fit in the miniest of mini-breaks, no chance of any shopping or galleries. But you're there for a good time, not a long time so there'll be no sleeping or eating unless it's a late night dinner or an early croissant.
Although we stuck with the late bars, many clubbing cognoscenti make the pilgrimage to Paris on a regular basis to check out the next Laurent Garnier spin some Gallic grooves at La Fabrique or another big venue such as the Rex. Clubs stay open until way past bedtime - you won't spot the party people emerge before 7am, when they'll slink into a cafe and boost their energy levels with a couple of strong espressos.
Daybreak found us ravenous, and we teetered off our table tops and stumbled - shoes in hand - to the nearest boulangerie. Grabbing half a dozen fresh croissants, we picnicked in style near the famous Père-Lachaise cemetery, resting place of Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde among others. Too early to breakfast among the great and the dead; the gothic graveyard wouldn't be open until we were dozing en route back to London. A park across the street did nicely instead, and it turned out to be the local venue for early morning t'ai chi practice. Far too exhausted to contemplate participating, we admired the wiry old ladies solemnly going through the movements, the perfect antithesis to our night of misbehaviour.
We joined the numerous other Saturday night casualties back at Gare du Nord. The smartly dressed Parisians on their way to London looked in puzzlement at the yawning, dishevelled contingent waiting to board the Eurostar. My French was failing fast and it was all I could do to shrug and yawn our excuses. 'C'est la Party Train, you know.'
Factfile
Eurostar (08705 186186) has 'Night Clubber' fares every weekend for £35 return, leaving after 4pm Saturday and returning before 10.30am Sunday. Tickets can be booked up to 30 minutes before departure.
No time to waste once you hit the French capital so before you go check out www.novaplanet.com - the 'Funky Paris' section will save you from heading anywhere other than where the beautiful people go. Also see www.timeout.com/paris for recommendations, and www.parisbouge.com for club reviews.
The weekly Pariscope listings magazine has an English insert, available from all newsstands.
Jennifer recommends
Batofar
Quai François Mauriac.
Metro: Bibliothèque
National Boat, bar and club all in one. Safely moored so no need for sea legs.
La Flèche d'Or
102 bis rue de Bagnolet.
Metro: Alexandre Dumas
Former Metro station, now venue for anarchic tea parties and cocktails.
Buddha Bar
8 rue Boissy D'Anglas.
Metro: Concorde
So cool it's got its own CD soundtrack. People watch and pose.
La Buvette
4 rue des Panoyaux.
Metro: Ménilmontant
Set the world to rights with the regulars.
La Cithéa
114 rue Oberkampf.
Metro: Ménilmontant
A late night bar and club and laid-back crowd.
Café Charbon
109 rue Oberkampf.
Metro: Ménilmontant
Here, there's good food by day, good vibrations bar by night.
Clubs
Hotel Costes
239 rue St-Honoré.
Metro: Tuileries
Play spot the celeb on the dancefloor, if you can get past the doorkeepers.
Le Milk
4 Bld Strasbourg.
Metro: Strasbourg St Denis
Filled with a young crowd, while guest DJs keep the dancefloor heaving.
Club Atlantis
32 quai d'Austerlitz.
Metro: Gare d'Austerlitz
Dolphin décor with a mostly Caribbean crowd who like to dance close.
La Fabrique
53 rue du Fauborg Saint-Antoine.
Metro: Bastille
Big, loud and fun clubber's delight, the party goes on till the morning.
Les Bains Douches
7 rue du Bourg l'Abbé.
Metro: Étienne Marcel
It's still going, still VIP packed and still hard to get in.
Le Rex Club
46 rue Poissonnière.
Metro: Bonne Nouvelle
DJ Laurent Garnier started here - spot the next French superstar on the decks.
