Simple flavors are the best. We seek out local spices, meat cooked with herbs, or just a perfect piece of fish. Admittedly, it’s hard to resist the rich indulgence of foie gras, served with fig jam and warm toasted bread. Delightful cheeses to pair with jellies, marmalades or honey. But the star of any meal is always the wine – that delicate rosé that delights the palate. This, for me, is what a true vacation tastes like.
And finally, it’s just the two of us. The only choice we have to make is where we want to go. French cuisine, or something more exotic? In Saint Tropez, flavors come together, ethnic influences merge. It’s impossible to resist the myriad scents and tastes.
The sun’s about to set and I’m going to watch it from the Plage de la Ponche, the tiny beach that Brigitte Bardot made into a legend. We take a seat on a tiled bench, with the gulf and bay spread out ahead of us. The sky is so clear that we can see all the way to Sainte Maxime, the last sailboats to come in from the bay are gliding through the fading light.
Simple, convivial, unforgettable: in Saint Tropez, cocktail hour is a ritual. Ice cold rosé, fresh oysters and good company. At Chez Madeleine – a chic little kiosk near the fish market – I know I’ll always find all three. A perfect evening seems to always begin here.
I wish this week would go on forever. I’d love to be able to take everything here with me, back to the city. The small village squares are full of tiny shops, and just beneath the Citadelle is where the art galleries are. I’m constantly on the lookout for little objects and mementoes, local products and regional specialties – I’d love to fill my home with furnishings and décor in Provencal style.
In the late afternoon, stopping in the shade of the trees in a square, unhurried. It’s a symphony of flowers: spilling off balconies, in vases on bar tables. Who ever had time to notice the flowers before? A whole afternoon races by, while seated at an iron table, playing cards with friends.
On a walk through the pine trees, I let myself drink in the perfumes and colours of Provence. And then, an unexpected surprise: I come across a typical wooden kiosk, welcoming and elegant and blending in perfectly with the surroundings. I sit down, order chèvre salad with warm bread, and try to memorize the taste of every bite.
It doesn’t take much to find yourself. A hidden little corner, green and pristine, tucked away among the plants. I hang a hammock on the thick branches of the trees and read, or else daydream the time away.
Sitting in the shade at a café in the Place des Lices, watching the petanque match. The spirit of competition is contagious. I’m sipping a bière pression and have given in, once again, to the tempting tarte tropézienne – here they serve the original recipe, from the pastry chef Alexandre Micka, who invented it in 1955. It was Brigitte Bardot who gave the dessert its name, and as legend has it, it was her favorite indulgence.
One of Saint Tropez’s timeless rituals: playing boules in Place des Lices in the late afternoon. Laughter is shared, rosé is poured. Teams are made up of friends and locals, and the surrounding cafés always have balls to lend out to anyone who feels up for a game – although for many, petanque is more than just a game. Some people like to bet, some just enjoy watching and commenting, and some take the game quite seriously. But never too seriously.
It’s pool time. Reading a book, stretched out on a deck chair, lazing about, and then a swim. Sitting at the side of the pool, legs dangling in the water, sipping a cocktail. Moments of pure relaxation.
When you’re not in the mood for mingling in high society, for parties, cocktails, or even a walk through the town, luckily there’s a gorgeous villa awaiting with a swimming pool. Surrounded by gardens and the perfume of flowers, there’s nothing to do or decide except for when to take the next dip.
Every sensation is amplified in Saint Tropez, even on the golf course. Away from the beach, nature becomes the protagonist. Taking golf lesson surrounded by the lush surrounding vegetation of vineyards and pine trees. Here, nature is at its most pristine.
Sea, sand, sailing…and that’s not all. A Saint Tropez vacation also means a good tennis match against friends. I love the sound of the red earth crunching under my shoes, the hot sun making my skin glow, the competitive spirit getting stronger with every serve. We choose a different court every time, surrounded by the green pines.
Sporting life in Saint Tropez means Les Voiles, the famed regatta that’s been animating the bay since 1981. What began as just a friendly race has now become one of the most glorious spectacles of the season, when the water is dotted with some of the world’s most elegant sailboats. I take it all in from my special “front row seat” on the wall alongside the ancient Tower by the port.
It’s impossible not to lose yourself in the immensity of the Saint Tropez sea. I leave solid ground behind me and finally see the coastline from the open water. The crisp, vivid scents of Provence are recognizable even from here. The wind is tenacious, but sweet, billowing the sails and cradling the boat.
The flavors of Saint Tropez reflect the place itself: simple, natural and authentic. Beach restaurants’ cuisine is fresh and genuine, everything prepared and presented with attention and care. A vibrant plate of raw, perfectly cut vegetables stand out against a backdrop of wooden bark. To accompany them, an aromatic olive oil and a cold glass of rosé. The soundtrack? Nothing more than the chirping of the cicadas.
Lunching with friends at the beach is the ultimate – and discrete – luxury. Protected by the shade of the trees, immersed in nature, the atmosphere is serene and leisurely. The décor blends in perfectly with the landscape, the colour of the sea and sky. Gorgeous and wild.
The rhythm is slow, time seems to expand. I adore my solitude, but take great pleasure in a meal at a beachside kiosk. This is where countless friendships and love affairs have begun. Little shops always manage to tempt me: today’s irresistible finds are a blue and white striped straw bag and a collection of silver beaded bracelets. And when the sun begins to scorch, I give in and take a plunge in the sea.
My mornings at the beach are rejuvenating and luxurious, seeped in understated elegance. Sunbeams filter through the bamboo huts and the salt-bleached wooden deck chair warms my skin. I spend hours gazing out towards the yachts and tourists. I sip an icy glass of rosé and letting the sound of the waves send me into a state of relaxed bliss.
All the ingredients for success are here: magic, joie de vivre, light-heartedness, the international jet set. This is what goes into the most famous establishments of the Pampelonne. Understated elegance, private little oases of leisure where the views of the bay are incredible.
The sea in Saint Tropez is gorgeous, and so are its beaches. Starting in the village, the first ones I come across are La Ponche and La Fontanette, the location of the memorable scene from “Et Dieu… créa la femme” with Brigitte Bardot and Jean-Louis Trintignant. At the end of Route des Salins, there’s the Plage des Salins, with its white sand beaches amidst the Mediterranean fauna. This is the oldest beach, where the residents of Saint Tropez go. The water, transparent and turquoise leaves you dazzled. And then I head towards the Route des Plages, with its exclusive beach clubs and breathtaking views.
From the terrace of the Citadelle de Saint Tropez. The view is breathtaking, overlooking the coastline, the jagged rocks and the dazzling blue of the sea. There’s nothing more suggestive of the past – the drawbridge that leads to the inner courtyard of this fort, with its hexagonal stone walls. Inside, I’m greeted by the spectacle of parading peacocks – proud and colorful. The charm of the church, the bell tower, the piazzetta, has remained unchanged over the centuries.
I begin to head away from the port, the tourists, the yachts, and seek out a more intimate, private Saint Tropez. I come across a small fishing village with homes and shops nestled in the quiet, narrow streets. Here is where the old and new come together. And it’s the perfect place to take a coffee and enjoy a delicate slice of tarte tropézienne.
In one of the town’s most suggestive spots, the market at in the Place des Lices, I find a treasure trove of antique finds and lovely objects. I buy straw bags and vintage trunks, I linger in front of the brightly colored spices and herbs, helplessly enchanted by the lavender. When it’s time for a break, I take a table at Clemenceau and order a glass of rosé, watching the people come and go, locals and tourists carrying bags full of flowers and bread.
Early morning is a special time here in Saint Tropez. I stroll towards the port to watch the sun come up; and with it, everything seems to awaken: smells, voices, colors. The town’s Saturday morning rituals have begun. I buy some fresh fish at the Place aux Herbes, and walk down the charming tiled road to pick up cheese and flowers in the small piazzetta.
Relaxing on the beach, water sports, golf, and – of course – polo. Here in Saint Tropez one can’t miss the International Cup, the polo tournament that draws people in from all over the world. Famous for its timeless elegance, the opening ceremony is a perfect mix of nobility, competition and allure.
A barefoot run along the beach in early morning – when the sand is still compact and solid – is one of my most treasured holiday rituals. The gentle rays start to warm my skin, and light fills up the bay before me.
Strolling barefoot over red earth, through low vineyards, with the blue sea glinting just ahead, carrying a pair of leather sandals I just bought in town. Further down, this solitary trail opens up onto a breathtaking beach.
A fast drive towards the sea with the wind whipping my hair and rising sun in my face. Nothing but vineyards surround me, with the beach ahead that awaits me. Today is all about being free.
Waves break against rocks, trees lean and bend in the wind, and I take an early morning walk down the beach towards the lighthouse, from Plage de l’Escalet to Cap Camarat.
I awake slowly, silently, in this magical, pristine place, immersed in green. The salt of the air mixes with the scent of Maritime Pines. The sun rises with gentle, tepid rays – shortly the whole bay will illuminated with bright light.