The same Frenchman who yesterday directed us to the finest butcher in Aix offered one additional piece of local intelligence. When Dad asked his favorite beach to take his family, his answer was emphatic:
Saint-Tropez.
And so here we sit tonight after a glorious day on Pampelonne Beach in Ramatuelle—the quintessential Saint-Tropez beach, despite technically lying just south of town.
Saint-Tropez's mythology is surprisingly modern. Its transformation from Provençal fishing village into an international synonym for sex, celebrity, and Mediterranean excess accelerated in 1956, when 22-year-old Brigitte Bardotfilmed the scandalously sensual And God Created Woman here. Bardot became an international sex symbol, and Saint-Tropez became inseparable from her image.
Seventy years later, it has become something like the unofficial summer capital of French hedonism—beach clubs, champagne, celebrities, topless sunbathing, and superyachts.
Unfortunately, we arrived in shoulder season.
The reputed spectacle of nude celebrities packed elbow-to-elbow beneath a horizon of megayachts has largely given way to families, retirees, and an astonishing number of tiny purebred lapdogs.
But Pampelonne needs no celebrity enhancement. The beach is spectacular, with Mediterranean water as blue and crystalline as any we've seen.
Afterward, Kris and I headed into old Saint-Tropez for dinner. We split a sea bass, had floating island desserts, and spoke with the restaurant owner. The restaurant had been converted from his childhood home, and he'd been working there for sixty years. That's a love of hospitality—and an appreciation for hard work.
Perhaps peak-season Saint-Tropez would have been more entertaining.
But I'm not convinced it would have been more beautiful.
Yesterday a stranger in a butcher shop told us where he buys his meat and where he takes his family to the beach.
So far, the Frenchman is two for two.