The Croisette curves along the bay like a grand theatrical set, its white stone façades and striped awnings facing the Lérins Islands. Behind the promenade, Le Suquet rises steeply — the old fishing quarter where narrow streets smell of grilled sardines and jasmine. The port divides old from new: superyachts on one side, wooden pointu boats on the other. Each May, the film festival transforms the city into a paparazzi-lined spectacle, but the rest of the year belongs to locals drinking pastis at Forville market.
Dining here follows a Mediterranean rhythm. Long lunches stretch past three o'clock in the restaurants behind Rue Meynadier, where chefs work with rouget from the morning catch and courgette flowers from the hills above Mougins. The palace hotels along the waterfront maintain formal dining rooms with starched linens, while the backstreets of Le Suquet hide family-run spots serving pissaladière and socca. Rooftop bars catch the evening light as it turns the Esterel mountains pink.