Out of Office: Villa Belrose, Saint-Tropez
Saint-Tropez has changed, but this hotel still feels like the 60s.
I know I’m not the only one who finds myself rewatching vintage films of a bygone era in anticipation of upcoming summer holidays. Picturing myself with even an ounce of Alain Delon’s coolness is a good way to get excited about the slow schedule of al fresco dining, salt-stained espadrilles, and cicada soundscapes that lie ahead. This is no original experience, though. It is not special nor unique of me to fill this mental summer moodboard of mine with sun-soaked 60s Tropezian imagery. What is unique, however, is having those images bear close resemblance to the experience that actually awaits at the destination.
Never has this ritual been more prophetic than on a recent getaway to Villa Belrose. Perched a couple hundred metres up the hill in Gassin – the tiny commune just a 10-minute drive (or 40, on market days) from Saint-Tropez town – it’s precisely this location that lends itself to the careless, time-agnostic essence that always captivated me about La Piscine.
Many will tell you that Saint-Tropez is a fragment of what it used to be, and whether or not that’s worth complaining about, up here, looking down at the bay and east to the Med, it’s a conversation that never crosses the mind. From Belrose’s pooldeck, the town looks the same as it has done for decades – just far enough that no supercar crawling the quai will beg for your attention, no gold leaf or truffle gluttony will spoil the mood. And if you really want, you can even picture Le Sénéquier in all its pre-Instagram glory.
The point is, what Althoff Collection has created here is really a bastion of the Saint-Tropez experience that I, and perhaps you, too, envision when a Riviera retreat is what’s called for. Most of Belrose’s primarily European guests spend the vast majority of their time at the hotel. Between the well-stocked pool bar and excellent service, it’s easy to slip into a rosé-fuelled, sun-bed-supported afternoon slumber, not checking the time, simply relying on the position of the sun above to remind you when it’s time to head back to the suite and get ready for dinner. Which, the house car will be happy to whisk you into town for – that is, if you’re not dining at Le Belrose, the property’s restaurant under Michelin-starred chef Jimmy Coutel (you should be, and order the red mullet).
Beyond the 60s-inspired interior design (one of the least 60s things about the place), I think the reason I was more than happy to draw this comparison to La Piscine, is that Belrose does a wonderful job at creating a residential atmosphere. The place feels like your own, more than many of its local hospitality counterparts. The room count does help on that front, just 40, but it’s more than that. It’s the privacy, the terrace space, the fact that, after all, this was once, as the name suggests, a villa – the homely design is in its bones. And though, in the film, the villa’s idyll is swiftly dismantled by some not-so-moodboard-worthy behaviour, I can assure you our comparison here in Villa Belrose is a haven for nothing more sinister than some well-deserved indulgence.