FOR sun, sea and sophistication, nowhere does it better than the French Riviera. Laid-back and chic, here is a heady mix of culture and celebrity, a fusion of art, music and literature with more brash attractions of casinos, fast cars and luxurious yachts. 

From Menton in the east, past Monaco and west to Nice, Antibes, Cannes and St Tropez, are dozens of towns and villages that sparkle like gems along this Mediterranean coastline. One of the smaller towns – but still a hugely popular jet-set playground – is Juan Les Pins, on the Cap d’Antibes. 

Juan, crowded onto the edge of a pine forest and fringed by beautiful golden sands, was first made popular around 90 years ago when A-listers of the day claimed this destination as their own. Hollywood stars, artists and writers flocked here to bask in the year-round warmth – and still do.

Among those early visitors to Juan were American writer F Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda. The couple came to stay in 1925 and 1926, splashing the proceeds from Fitzgerald’s tour de force The Great Gatsby. With this tragic tale of greed and loss currently being filmed by Baz Luhrmann – and starring Leonardo DiCaprio – it was the perfect motivation for spending a few summer days in Juan to soak up that rarefied Riviera atmosphere.

We decided to drive there and chose to do most of the travelling in France, rather than tackle the madness of London’s M25, by heading to Newcastle for the ferry to Amsterdam. For Scotland-based drivers this is a handy gateway to Europe and after a relaxing overnight crossing we darted through the Netherlands and Belgium into France, overnighting in Dijon before heading south.

You can fly to Nice then pick up a hire car but the benefits of being able to load up with our own home comforts, explore France – and cram in a few cases of wine for home – made the ferry a must. Just don’t forget to add in road tolls and fuel costs if you are doing the sums. And do beware of vehicle envy. Once we hit Juan Les Pins, we joined the Lamborghinis and Aston Martins weaving through the crowd along the narrow beachside road that winds up and on to Antibes.

Of course, it’s not just slebs that love to chill here and beach-bag laden families, couples and groups of teenagers mingle with designer-clad locals dragging tiny dogs behind them. In July, quite simply, Juan jumps.

The Jazz Age may be long gone but the music is still hugely important in this part of the world. The renowned annual festival Jazz à Juan brings the coolest sounds on the planet to this town – and some of the coolest performers to the Beach Garden Hotel, where we stayed for two sizzling nights.

Away from the shoreline, the pedestrianised main streets of cafes and restaurants offer everything from ice creams and coffees to traditional Provencal dishes, seafood or pizzas. The park opposite our hotel is shaded by the trees that give Juan Les Pins its name and during the festival a small outdoor stage here allows passers-by to sit and enjoy fringe acts for free.

Just 100 yards on, the pines extend down onto the beach, and this is where we spent two magical evenings, watching headliners such as Curtis Stigers and Jamie Cullum, as the sun set over the sea behind the stage. We also rubbed shoulders with the stars – quite literally – squeezing into the hotel lift with US R&B legend Raphael Saadiq and bumping into French soul singer Imany at breakfast.

A casino neighbours the Beach Garden but the only gamble we took was in choosing not to spend money on a lounger  – and it paid off, with plenty of room to spread out on the private beach. Sunshine, rose wine and film-star glamour – plus the world-famous Picasso museum a short hop away in Antibes – Juan Les Pins is a seductive package.

For me, the highlight was lunch at the magnificent Belles Rives. It was here as the Villa Saint-Louis where the Fitzgeralds settled for a while in 1926. Now impeccably restored, this five-star hotel with its waters-edge restaurant and terrace is an Art Deco palace. Elegant and luxurious, this is how to do the Cap d’Antibes. Especially if you follow the  Jazz Age example – and head there out of season.

First published in the Daily Record, 2012