Hayley Peppin
Most of us know the south of France, even if we’ve never been. The feeling flows from the uncorking of your first summer rosé to the scent of lavender sachets lightly perfuming one’s intimates. It’s there in the wistful imagery from films like La Piscine with Jane Birkin and Alain Delon, and the TikToks inspiring us to leave it all behind for the good life: “POV: You quit your job to move to a vineyard in the south of France.”
It’s a temptation I’ve indulgently tasted five or six times (the wine haze makes it a little difficult to separate) over the past two years, and somehow it never wears off. You can dip your toes in the sandpit at Saint-Tropez’s eye-wateringly expensive beach clubs, or retreat to the slower, “touching grass” corners of a region that stretches from rugged mountains to sun-baked fields and sapphire coastlines. It’s this high-low tension that makes the south of France as seductive as it is approachable.
I’ve made jambon-beurres at a party for my friend’s 30th birthday on a rural farmstead just outside Nîmes, and dined on organic escargot and lobster bisque pasta at La Rotonde, the gold-leaf and carousel-horse dining room inside Nice’s grand dame, Le Negresco. I’ve even hugged my parents (and an obligatory bowl of frites and a Campari Spritz) while watching a local pétanque game in Saint-Paul-de-Vence.
But it was my most recent visit, for winemaker Whispering Angel’s 20th anniversary – which was serendipitously timed with the Cannes Lions International Festival of Creativity – that captured this euphoria best. There was rosé sipped in the shower, then dancing under the moonlight at Zuma, the izakaya-style destination that seemed to twinkle even more with the glam festival crowd pouring through it.
By the next morning, back in Nice, the Riviera had slipped into its easygoing Mediterranean warmth, freshly baked croissants and all. That’s the beauty of the Riviera: it lets you lose yourself in the night, then return to the ease of the morning after.
Now the south of France hardly needs more buzz online, but if you’re planning your own escape, allow me to sweet talk you into a few of my favourites. If you’re a first-timer, base yourself in Nice. Few cities layer history, culture and nature so effortlessly. It’s also home to the region’s main international airport and is well-connected by public transport.
If you want the best of both worlds, stay at Anantara Plaza Nice. Belle Époque grandeur meets earthy, minimalist interiors, with the historic Old Town on one side and the Mediterranean on the other. Take it all in from SEEN, the sweeping rooftop restaurant and bar, with 360-degree views of the rolling hills, palm-fringed Jardin Albert 1er public gardens and the people-watching parade of the Promenade des Anglais.
Against the hotel’s honeyed façade, it’s golden hour the Niçoise way (the sun shines here more than 300 days a year). Craving something softer? Antibes is a gentler alternative just along the coast, where the Cap d’Antibes Beach Hotel feels wonderfully secluded, fusing Palm Springs-inspired geometry with classic Mediterranean villa styling.
Then head to Ruhl Plage, one of the oldest beach clubs in Nice. Just steps from Anantara on the Baie des Anges (Bay of Angels), the institution built in 1920 is all blue-and-white parasols, blond wood and maritime motifs, with sunbeds that won’t smash your daily budget — though you can spend €130 on a front-row double bed if you fancy. It was once the beach club of the old Hotel Ruhl, where F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald wrote of dining on the terrace as “stars fell in our plates … and we were alone with the deep blue grandeur and the filet de sole Ruhl, and the second bottle of champagne”.
From Nice, it’s a 30-minute taxi to the Fondation Maeght museum in Saint-Paul-de-Vence (public transport more than doubles the journey). Art lovers will know it, Dua Lipa fans might, too, since the English singer hosted a Service95 Book Club event there in June. France’s first private art foundation was born from grief: after losing their young son, art dealers Aimé and Marguerite Maeght built a Catalan-inspired village on a pine-covered hill where artists could gather, create and exhibit. Come for the sculpture garden, stay for the views over medieval Saint-Paul-de-Vence and the scent of pine resin and rosemary.
Save another day for Èze, a winding taxi ride (or bus) from Nice. Inhale the boundless sky from the cactus-filled Jardin Exotique, perched high in the “eagle’s nest” village, then settle in at the luxurious Château de la Chèvre d’Or hotel. The menu may induce financial vertigo (though the complimentary snacks are replenishable), but the yacht-dotted views over Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat are worth nursing one glass of champagne.
Rosé purists should make the pilgrimage inland to the home of the summer tonic: Château d’Esclans, the inland Provence estate behind Whispering Angel, about 90 minutes’ drive from Nice. Book a tour and tasting among the vines, and enjoy the view of the surreal blue hydrangeas while you’re there.
And no south of France visit is complete without a beach picnic. It can be as curated as a feast from one of the region’s markets – Nice’s Marché aux Fleurs, Cannes’ Marché Forville or my favourite, Antibes’ Marché Provençal – or as simple as a deli run. One of my most memorable afternoons was also the least complicated: a cheap bottle of rosé, paper cups and a bag of crisps on the beach in Italianate Villefranche-sur-Mer.
Moments like that make leaving feel impossible. So when my flight out of Nice was delayed by three hours, I didn’t mind in the slightest.
The writer was hosted by Whispering Angel.
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