Hidden behind food, clothing and other decorative objects, this element of the building has not changed since 1930.
In one of the busiest stores in the capital, a piece of the building, more or less hidden, discreetly offers itself to curious eyes. Under its appearance of an ordinary supermarket, this place actually houses a precious element, far from the shelves of everyday consumer products.
In the 1920s, Théophile Bader, visionary and founder of Galeries Lafayette, took a close interest in this popular building, located in the heart of the 8th arrondissement of Paris. His project? A department store in the style of the temples of American consumption. An ambitious dream which, ultimately, was slowed down by the crisis of 1929. The project aborted, and this prestigious corner of the capital changed hands. It was then the First National City Bank that moved into this location, transforming the space into a financial center.
For curious visitors, this memory of another era is only revealed in the basement of the Monoprix. Built in 1930 in an Art Deco style, designed by the architect André-Louis Arfvidson, the place hides an imposing clue to its past as a bank. Going down to the basement is like entering another time, where a detail (and not the least) catches the eye. Indeed, among the shelves, a large armored door appeals to the most attentive visitors. Enigmatic, it sits there, protected by glass, recalling the glory days of international finance in this former bank.
In the 1990s, when the location was a Virgin Megastore, this solid steel door led to the book section, a nod for fans of detective novels and gangster stories. Today, it simply serves as decoration, but its presence is enough to arouse the fascination of those who notice it.
With its armored door, the Monoprix at 52 avenue des Champs-Élysées clearly illustrates the history of the capital: a place where modern consumption meets a financial and artistic heritage. So, during your next visit to this Monoprix, don’t forget to take a look at the basement.
