Concierge

Concierge (pronounced kon-see-airzh or kawn-syerzh (French))

(1) A person who has charge of the entrance of a building and is sometimes the owner's representative; a doorkeeper.  Historically, the role is most associated with residential buildings in large French cities but the role is increasingly common in both residential and commercial buildings in many countries.

(2) A member of a hotel staff in charge of certain services for guests including (1) those provided for a fee by third parties including securing tickets for the theatre, tours or other entertainment, taxis, airport transfers etc and (2) internal hotel matters such as baggage handling, delivering and collecting laundry, providing directions etc.  Many do offer certain services such as hire-cars (and most famously prostitution) on the basis of secret commissions.

(3) An employee stationed in an apartment house lobby who screens visitors, controls operation of elevators, accepts deliveries to the tenants, etc.

(4) A custodian or warden of a prison (obsolete).

(5) As concierge medicine (also known as retainer medicine), pertaining to or being medical care for which the patient pays the doctor an annual fee, either for special or additional services or to guarantee priority attention when required.

(6) A synonym of conciergerie or concergius (obsolete).

(7) As shopping concierge, a part of the gig-economy which offers personal assistance in shopping in a particular area, additionally providing services (such as international shipping) which may not be offered by a retailer.  Shopping concierges charge usually either by time or a percentage of the transactions effected (or a combination of both) and it's assumed secret commissions are also paid by retailers.  In an informal sense, the idea has been extended to the finance sector where concierge is sometimes used as slang to describe brokers.

1640-1650: From the twelfth century French concierge (caretaker, doorkeeper of a hotel, apartment house, prison etc; porter of uncertain origin.   It may have been from the Old French cumserges, which may be from the Vulgar Latin conservius, from the Latin conservus (fellow slave), an assimilated form, the construct being con- (from com-) (with, together) + serviēns, present participle of servīre (to serve) and related both to servius (slave) and the modern “serve”.  The con- prefix was from the Middle English con-, from the Latin con-, from the preposition cum (with), from the Old Latin com, from the Proto-Italic kom, from the primitive Indo- European ḱóm (next to, at, with, along).  It was cognate with the Proto-Germanic ga- (co-), the Proto-Slavic sъ(n) (with) and the Proto-Germanic hansō.  It was used with certain words to add a notion similar to those conveyed by with, together, or joint or with certain words to intensify their meaning.  Servus was from the Proto-Italic serwos (guardian), from the primitive Indo-European serwos (guardian) which may be related to ser- (watch over, protect); it was cognate with servō and the Avestan haraiti (he heeds, protects).  In Latin, over the years, servus (genitive servī, feminine serva) could be used to mean servant, serf or slave.  The suggestion, attributed to nineteenth century French novelists, that concierge is a contraction of comte des cierges (a servant responsible for maintaining the lighting and cleanliness of medieval palaces (literally “count of candles”) is considered a figment of the literary imagination.  Like English, some languages (such as German and Portuguese adopted the French spelling while others produced variants including the Catalan conserge, the Russian консье́рж (konsʹjérž), the Serbo-Croatian консијерж (konsijerž) and the Spanish conserje.  Concierge is a noun; the noun plural is concierges.

In historic documents, concierge appears sometimes to be a synonym for a number of roles but many of these are historically (and sometimes geographically) specific including castle-keeper, lodge-keeper of a château and jailor (or keeper) in a prison.  Even in modern use, there’s some overlap in function and a caretaker, custodian or janitor will perform some of the roles associated with a concierge but not all.  The greatest degree of overlap occurs in city hotels, the larger having clear distinctions between the duties undertaken by commissioners (doormen), porters and a concierge proper but these demarcations blur or disappear in smaller operations.  Concierge can be a concept as well as an individual, some hotels having concierge departments but staffing them without using anyone with the exact title.  In the France of L'Ancien Régime, the title was once attached to a high royal official of the household.  When the spellings (the original Latinized forms) were concergius or concergerius, the role was that of the guardian of a house or castle and in the later middle ages it came to be used for the court official who acted as the custodian of a royal palace.  In Paris, circa 1360, as the Palais de la Cité ceased to be a royal residence and became the seat of the courts of justice, the Conciergerie was turned into a prison, an institution for which L'Ancien Régime sometimes had great need. As late as the year leading up to World War I (1914-1918), in Europe it was common for a hotel's concierge to be referred to as a a "Suisse", reflecting the frequency with which men from Switzerland filled the role.

The Secret Society of the Les Clefs d’Or

Escutcheon of the Secret Society of the Les Clefs d'Or.

The Secret Society of the Les Clefs d’Or is the international organization of hotel lobby concierges.  Now with chapters in many countries, it was registered originally in Paris in 1929 as the Union Internationale des Concierges d'Hôtels (UICH) and this identity was maintained formally until 1995 when, at the 42nd International Congress held in Sydney, Australia, a resolution was passed changing the name to Union Internationale des Clefs d'Or (UICO).  The international membership now exceeds 4000.  Properly pronounced as lay-clay-door, the literal translation from French is keys of gold, reflected in their membership symbol, most frequently seen as the twinned lapel pins worn by members, something remarkably similar to the escutcheon of the Holy See and neither the Vatican nor the Les Clefs d’Or has ever denied that a relationship may exist.  To become a member of Les Clefs d’Or, one must be at least twenty-one years of age, of good moral character and active within their concierge community.  Additionally, they must be employed by hotels in the usual sense of the word (not corporate or residential buildings) and have been employed thus for a minimum of five years (two if that service has been under the supervision of a member).  Also, the desk at which they work must have a sign that includes the word “concierge.”  Approval of membership is subject to the provision of documents, sponsorship by two existing members and a formal interview process.

Promotional poster for Il portiere di notte (The Night Porter (1974)), directed by Liliana Cavani (b 1933).  Note the crossed keys of the Les Clefs d'Or or Bogart's lapel.

Novelists and film makers have often been fond of concierges, presumably because they can be used as a quasi-narrator or linkage device between protagonists, the dramatic and comedic potential frequently (though not always convincingly) explored.  The best film in this sub-genre remains the cult favourite The Night Porter (1974), set in the high cold war Vienna of 1957 and starring Dirk Bogarde (1921–1999) as former Nazi concentration camp officer and Charlotte Rampling (b 1946) who had been one of his youthful inmates and one upon whom he imposed a sadomasochistic relationship.  Although not without flaws in its editing, The Night Porter is memorably evocative of the era and is more highly regarded now than at the time of its release.  In 2018 it was one of the films included in the Venice Classics at the Venice International Film Festival.

Dirk Bogart in The Night Porter with the paired crossed keys of the Les Clefs d'Or on the lapels.

Most concierges aren’t sadomasochistic (as far as is known) but they can still be involved in bizarre stuff.  One former member of the secret society is Australian Elvis Soiza (concierge at 111 Eagle Street, Brisbane) who says he can procure anything (as long as it's legal).  No longer a member because the Les Clefs d’Or restricts its rolls to those working in hotels, he notes there’s remarkably little difference between what’s done in a corporate building and a luxury hotel, the concierge still the “human face to a property” and one there to “offer advice, sooth, inform, entertain and organise”.  He sums up such buildings as “a hotel without bedrooms” (although Elon Musk may have blurred things a bit).

Lindsay Lohan usurping the escutcheon of the Les Clefs d'Or (digitally altered image).

During his years in hotels, Mr Soiza had many interesting requests but the most remarkable came in London during the 1980s when a Middle Eastern sheik asked him to arrange a pink elephant as a birthday surprise for his wife.  Thinking he needed a large stuffed toy he began to peruse the Harrods’ catalogue, only to be told the sheik wanted a real elephant, painted pink.  It took some doing, requiring Mr Soiza to coordinate a local circus, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA), local government (it's not clear which one, the Greater London Council (GLC, 1965-1986) was in 1986 dissolved by the Thatcher government with its responsibilities assigned to existing borough councils), the Indian High Commission and the Metropolitan Police but, within twelve hours, he’d secured an elephant, had it painted pink, obtained the required permit and, with a police escort, had the beast led to the hotel in time for the birthday party.  Quite remarkable.

The original image (left), the photoshopped fake (centre) and an actual African pink elephant (a form of partial albinism).

Pink elephants are of course hard to find in London but they're rare anywhere.  On the internet, there have been claims the creatures can be found in parts of India, the color the result of the red soil in the environment, the creatures spraying dust on their hides to protect themselves from biting insects.  However, it turned out to be fake news, the supporting evidence created with Photoshop and wildlife experts that while elephants cover themselves in mud, this doesn’t change the colour of their skin.  It's true there is a rare genetic disorder (technically a form of albinism) which can result in the skin of young African elephants displaying a slight pink hue but it's nothing like the vivid hot pink in the Photoshopped fake news.