Poolside In Provence

Holidaying with the I-Change-Three-Times-Before-Lunch-Set

Let me tell you a hard truth I learned after five days’ vacation at a house in the very smartest part of Provence, the part close to St. Remy and Arles where all of Paris’ interesting Rive Gauche people spend their Julys and Augusts: you will never, ever, as an English or American, out-chic the Parisienne girl poolside. Don’t even try. Don’t even sweat it. Simply accept that sartorial humiliation will occur immediately, observe and learn.

My wardrobe withered in the face of the relentless stylishness of Anh Duong’s vacation looks. I LOVE her long shorts, I HATE my scruffy trainers. I must stop dressing for comfort when I’m around French people. It simply doesn’t work. Photo by Ristérd Keating.

My sartorial humiliation commenced even before the journey began. Since my trip was only five days long, including two days of travel, I reasoned that I only needed three days’ worth of ‘nice’ clothes. I could take that small amount as carry-on, avoid the check-in queues at Heathrow and zip out of the airport at Marseilles without the bore of waiting at a carousel. It would all be so quick and easy, I thought smugly to myself.

‘I’m just bringing hand luggage,’ I told my host, Ristéard, by telephone the day before I set off. ‘So I can only bring one evening dress - is that enough?’

There was a pause at the other end of the line, and I detected an air of disappointment. Then came the words, ‘Don’t worry. Anh will make up for it. She usually has at least three changes of clothes before lunchtime each day.’