An ancient fishing village turned a glamorous jet-setters’ haven. In the midst of Mediterranean shores, the famous and the beautiful sip their Aperol in their high fashion couture. Dashing Marcello Mastroianni whispers sweet nothings to a young actress. Sophia Loren stands on the balcony and watches people pass her by on their Lambrettas. Everyone has style, everyone is gorgeous…
Jean Paul Belmondo walks the Boulevard in St Tropez, and it’s all light and fun. A cigarette dangles from his mouth, a cap fancifully tilted on his head. A jacket, slightly too small, creamy and wrinkled on his back, a tie, lazily fastened, under his chin. He walks and we watch, holding our breath… And Brigitte Bardot walks the strand. Her hair, golden blonde with a red ribbon flowing in the salty air. Her nautical striped dress captured by the playboy photographer, Gunter Sachs. She smiles delicately at us and with that glimpse in her eye, we know, we know that God created woman….
The '60s in the Riviera seem to be a lost time capsule. The lost days of passion, style and devastating love affairs. Some objects, some people, some smells; sunglasses, Anouk Aimée, the sound of a Vespa passing you by... Those are timeless reminders, icons of style, things we want to remember for forever. We yearn for them, we want to encapsulate them, but they shine only there, under the Mediterranean sun.
Life has a different pace on the Riviera. It requires a different attitude; Relaxed, but not careless. Chic but not too fashionable. Luxurious but not ostentatious. A life of quality. A life reflected in the blue sea that mingles seamlessly with the blue sky; of red Citroens whizzing through serpentine roads above Monte Carlo; of yachts, white in the distance, with little sparkles on the deck, where the sun tenderly touches the cocktail glasses.
We must treasure those relics of the Riviera and add some glamour to our mundane lives. We can put the sunglasses on and see us sitting on the terrace overlooking the sea. Brigitte Bardot is giggling in the corner, Johnny Hallyday singing a tune that is swept away in the air. Far away, we can see Alan Delon running along the pier with an army of teenage girls at his heels… and we, we sit back and look at the Mediterranean backdrop of our lives.
