St Tropez – nothing succeeds like excess

St Tropez is quiet simply, the most famous resort in Europe – and it has attracted the artistic and dissolute long before BB ( Brigitte Barbot).  

But it was BB who transformed this village into a worldwide reputation for illicit pleasures and the place has never looked back.

The great, the rich and the A-listers still come in by the Yachtful, as do any amount of flotsam and jetsam, whose obsession with air-headed extravagance can get on anyones nerves ( especial y mine, if you must know) 

Yes, the  wooded, rocky peninsula is spectacular, the views across the sea to the Maures mountain s are outstanding, but beyond that, unless you fancy paying ( in summer July and August) 15 euros for a  coke,  and being   with some other 30,000 people a day ( just getting in is like driving on the 405 freeway during rush hour) and pay constantly queuing and paying for over prices food and drink I say, forget it, unless you have a private yacht and can call Pop stars by their first name.

For those you don’t know, the famous beach is NOT in town, but 15 minutes away and then its basically private clubs that charge a fortune for you to sit in the sand.

It’s all about BLINGE on steroids.

I can’t tell you how many clients who begged to go and then once there called and said 'get me out'.

OK, should you still go, the months of May, June, September and October would be fine, but be aware many of the bling places are closed and once again, this charming village returns to a little Med port