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Voulez-vous coucher…at the Moulin Rouge? Grab an extra pair of knickers (or not!) and pack your toothbrush because for the first time in its 133-year-old history the moulin has been transformed into an exquisite Airbnb—and we got an exclusive peek. While Airbnb offers wild windmill stays all over the world, perhaps none are as iconic as this one on Paris’s Boulevard de Clichy in Montmartre.
Starting on Tuesday, May 17 at 1 p.m. EST, anyone with a verified Airbnb account and positive ratings will have a shot at booking one of three nights (June 13, 20, or 27) inside the 270-square-foot windmill. What’s more, it’ll only cost €1—including dinner, a performance of the longstanding show Féerie, and backstage access to meet your Airbnb host (and principle dancer) Claudine Van Den Bergh and the artisans affixing feathers, beads, and rhinestones to the show’s made-to-measure costumes.
As an adopted Parisian for over seven years now—and a lover of the stage and sequins—I was giddy at the idea of sleeping atop the famed nightclub during a media preview. Rather than being one of the hordes of tourists snapping selfies from the boulevard below, I’d get to photobomb them—but I’d have to be patient. The room reveal would happen after the 9 p.m. show, which considering its run of over 20 years now was slightly hokey and outdated, but still an entertaining 90 minutes filled with snakes, clowns, nipples, thongs, and jaw-dropping acrobatic feats. I sat at one of the theater’s four exclusive two-tops (tables are otherwise communal) during the three-course meal, curated by resident chef Arnaud Demerville. It was tasty and seasonal: a tartare of green and snow peas with raw prawns, monkfish with buttery braised cabbage, and an “After Eight”-inspired chocolate tart. Our coups, of course, were never empty.
I was hesitant to drink too much, though, because the only downside to sleeping inside a centuries-old windmill that’s otherwise been used for storage is that there’s no en suite bathroom. To reach the nearest bathroom, I’d have to walk outside onto the terrace, descend a set of stairs, and enter the club next door, Le Bar à Bulles. It wasn’t that bad, but once was enough so instead of pairing my pajamas with heels to brush my teeth alongside partygoers still sipping Champagne post-show (pro tip: pack slippers), I did as they did back in the early 1900s and filled a porcelain bowl with water to wash up in the room.
This brings me to the space itself. It’s glorious—absolutely out-of-this-world dreamy. Less sexy boudoir and Lady Marmalade, more romantic fairytale and Lady Mary. With soaring 16-foot-high ceilings, from which pastel fabrics drape over hanging wrought-iron bird cages and feather light fixtures above the four-poster bed, it is filled to the brim with antique furnishings and decor from the Belle Epoque.
