A Note From Mr & Mrs Smith

The lingering impression of Provence is typically its soft, golden light that douses lavender fields and animates poolside scenes with a nostalgia filter, along with the garlic-infused air that purges the lungs of urban soot and stress. The retreat to simplicity, to nursing rosé and observing the sky’s mood or the region’s dramatic topography, is Provence’s forte, albeit an elevated rendition along stretches of the Cote d’Azur. This is the land of Van Gogh, Matisse and Picasso; of Giona, Pagnol and Mistral – the latter declaring “When the Good Lord begins to doubt the world, he remembers that he created Provence.” Naturally, the region plays host to scores of lovely (and often legendary) hotels, whose architecture toys with the unfiltered sunlight and weaves through herb-sprouting rock, pine groves and vineyards. Having scoured this varied landscape, we’ve curated a Provence portfolio of boutique hotels featuring secret walled gardens of lemon and lavender and Slim-Aarons-grade hotels with pools sculpted into coastal rock. We’ve handpicked three that speak to the Collagerie coterie – all of which artfully reference Provençal spirit and the near-mythical landscape – adding a selection of homewares to bring a little pastoral je ne sais quoi home.

Les Roches Rouges

This is sedate, film-star territory, clinging to the edge of a rocky coast which stares back in awe at the menacing Massif de L’Esterel mountain range surging behind it. Sunbathers cool off in a terracotta-lined modernist pool that overlaps the sea, or a particularly photogenic one carved into the rocks. The Slim Aarons currency moves inside, where an earthy shades of peach and caramel warm the vintage furniture.

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Style

An inky illustration of a reclining sunbather stretches out behind the bar and reaffirms the assignment. Cane chairs and low-slung, linen-dressed sofas belong to a far cooler era – a ’60s and ’70s mash-up reinforced by a tan palette of peaches, terracottas, creams and coffees. Near-brutalist balconies, softened with white and pinned with tanned butterfly chairs, tip over the glistening French Riviera where sunbathers are dealt the occasional spray of crashing waves. It’s a modish, coastal scene by French hotel group Beaumier – one of abstract art, retro touches and raffia, with oat-linen curtains framing that pure Riviera light.

The food

Overseen by Chef José Bailly, both restaurants honour the poet René Jouveau’s 1963 Traditional Provençal Cuisine cookbook, with hip renditions of Provençal classics for exultant foodies. La Plage is the easygoing, all-day spot where olive and anchovy pissaladière, just-caught seafood and braised lamb with roasted aubergine caviar spread out across lacquered tables. Here, hearty salads and back-to-basics plates leave local, seasonal ingredients to do the talking. Michelin-starred Récif ramps up the simplicity, showing off the daily coastal plunder with elaborate plates of stuffed purple artichokes and squid, sprinkled in edible flowers and washed down with organic wines. For something stronger, clamber up to the third-floor bar, where peach-laced rinquinquin cocktails swing over in time for knockout sunsets. Breakfast is an elegantly unfussy affair – a curated buffet of granola and viennoiserie, with eggs and omelettes to order.

The location

Wedged between Nice and Saint Tropez, Les Roches Rouges has the best of both worlds – the drama and cut-adrift thrill dealt by its seclusion, and the cool design pilgrims familiar with Saint Tropez’ boutique hotel scene. The sleepy, sandstone port town of Saint Raphaël is a short drive away and weekly guided tours through the cinematic Esterel National Park or off the back of a boat with a fishing rod edge this hotel out of modish mundanity and into more adventure-forward aesthete territory.

The spa

Pocket-sized and facial-focused, the spa cocoons and pampers weary guests for an hour or so – depositing them back on their poolside beds in a delicious state of delirium. Various nourishing creams from Institut Esthederm are lathered onto sun-kissed skin with revitalising massages or following rigorous scrubs.

Le Moulin

Set in a novel-worthy Provençal village at the foot of the Luberon, this sensitively reimagined 18th-century oil mill churns pastoral notions into a modernist retro romance, courtesy of hip design group, Jaune.

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Rooms are perfumed with lavender, white shutters blink over games of pétanque and all is grainy and wheat-hued, echoing the bucolic, sun-baked idylls surrounding the village. The raw, pastoral theme is gently dialled up with glossed terracotta bathrooms, framed cult illustrations of fruit and good-looking woven chairs. Headboards seemingly disappear into the wall in woven sisal and battered books from legends such as Camus and Cézanne are a potent reminder of the region’s literary and artistic heritage. There is no pool on site, (this is more rosé-in-the-orchard-with-cicadas-and-Proust territory), but sister property Le Galinier’s inviting pool, framed by a tangle of olive trees and ivy, is a five-minute espadrilled crunch away.

The food

Pared down Provençal plates are given an inventive jolt by Chef Julien, whose locavore menu networks hard with local fisherman and farmers for top-notch ingredients. It follows that fresh seafood and the region’s kaleidoscopic vegetable harvest take centre stage, with rosemary fougasse, carpaccio with goats cheese and chargrilled seabream served under a sun-sieved pergola, or inside amid terracotta vases, sloped ceilings and glazed tiles. Pudding is a sweet finalé of sheep-yoghurt cheesecake with bee pollen and Lourmarin’s raspberry pavlova lathered in whipped cream and sprinkled in Lauris mint. And while breakfast is a languorous affair here, the menu is short and chic – Provençal toast with local farm goats cheese, fresh-from-the-oven pain au chocolat and eggs-done-anyway.

The location

A flat interlude after the voluptuous Luberon with its snaking roads, and between Avignon and Aix, Lourmarin is a film-set French town of chipped shutters and marché mores. It springs to life every Friday morning, with vendors selling the region’s sweet and varied harvest and artisanal pieces, from dried flowers and olives to linens and pretty sun hats. Locals nurse Gentiane de Lure in the shade of bistros, the soulful sort that are impossible to replicate. Le Moulin can arrange scenic hikes, horse riding and vineyard visits, as well as coastal adventures on canoes or kayaks. Gastronomes should make a point of perusing Le Moulin’s deli and boutique next door for homemade jams and local ceramics.

The spa

Lourmarin’s docile rhythms are a welcome substitute for a spa – relaxation is served differently here. It’s not scheduled in, selected from a treatment menu or kneaded into tense shoulders. It is ubiquitous, relentless even, with its easygoing mornings that stretch into long, hot afternoons of reading, resting and mopping up crisp-and-pale rosé and olive tapenade with freshly-baked bread.

Hôtel Lou Pinet

The Riviera’s sharp light bounces off a turquoise-tiled pool, whose slovenly, water winks at the olive trees and wrought-iron sunbeds, smug in its blatant allure. For nothing could be more alluring than a fragrant, elegantly calm courtyard amid saint Tropez’ bustle, where those in the know (mainly about the charming Maison Pariente hotel group) catch their breath after a morning scouring Places de Lices’s market for tapenade and bohemian earrings.

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Style

Mint shutters adorn the classically Provencal exteriors of a cluster of farm-style houses, while inside a more modish ’60s and ’70s theme is restrained by subdued shades of wheat, olive and terracotta – all referencing the region’s pastoral spirit. Buttermilk banquet seats and wicker chairs scatter a blonde parquet floor which spills onto a citrus-infused terrace. Choreographed by Charles Zana, this calm and considered picture of artisanal flair and ’60s groove receives the occasional jolt of primary colour and contemporary art – a bold nod to droves of artistic legends who found themselves in the grip of Provence’s relentless, melancholic beauty.

The food

The aesthetic may riff on Provence with ’60s accents but the restaurant menu is decidedly cosmopolitan. An outpost of Riccardo Giraudi’s Monte Carlo Beefbar, this is a carnivore reverie, blending Japanese Wagyu with Mediterranean carpaccio. Truffle pasta and yellowtail sashimi beckon once the premium cuts appeal wears thin, as do spruce waiters and sommeliers, running through regional lists and cooking nous amid a colourful mural by local artist Alexandre Benjamin Navet. The terrace hosts Kir Royals and Champagne as the sun dips under the pine and the pool’s water passes through shades of deep khaki then tar.

The location

Saint Tropez’ red-lacquered Café Sénéquier, superyachts lining up along the harbour and warren of soap-and-summer-dress boutiques are mere moments from Lou Pinet, yet worlds away from it once guests clamber back inside its walls, in a tarte Tropèzienne sugar rush. Shuttles whisk kaftan’d guests to France’s chicest stretch of sand, Pampelonne, where Club 55 and beach club outposts of Saint Tropez’ main players plate up lobsters, oysters and seafood linguine under makeshift pergolas and pastel parasols.

The spa

Fully stocked with Tata Harper’s toxin-free potions and organic ideology, the subterranean spa is both a sanctuary and a relief for those with sensitive skin or simply averse to rich, perfumed products. Smooth, curved walls accented with indignant splashes of colour host morning yoga sessions well as delightful facials and massages, with detoxification front and centre.