Outside, a classic maison with a pétanque court and olive-green shutters. Inside, a triumph of European design, animal prints, and bold color palettes. La Dolce Vita re-enacted in a 1940s Berlin. The last available room for this June weekend is a tiny embrace with fiery red walls, offering postcards of the bay. The hubbub of guests in the garden, listless flights of seagulls. From up here, you get the impression that you’re experiencing the best of this village, which, despite its fame, remains peaceful and polite. You descend the stairs and reach the dehor. Leaning against a wall of bougainvillea, seated on sugar-paper cushions, you nibble on a croissant in the quiet of the French awakening and imagine it like this: festive yet discreet, the breakfasts of the family to whom the mansion belonged in the 19th century, who used to gather here for their holidays. Despite having been converted into a hotel in the early 20th century, you can still feel that energy, caught somewhere in time. Motherly gestures, rituals, brotherhood. It’s not nostalgia, but the enchantment of places that hold ancient promises.

Words and photographs Meraviglia Paper.