1936 On the Continent

bought, the ingredients checked and the liquid composed before your very eyes. The various factories of Grasse, which is a town of some 20,000 inhabitants, sacrifice about 10,000 tons of flowers each year on the altar of sex-appeal! Would you have believed, dear lady, that it is the flowers of the Côte d’Azur which add that fatal touch of sorcery to your already irresistible charm?
The Gorges du Loup
    Come with me just a few miles further inland and you can claim to have seen one of the most amazing natural spectacles in the whole of the South of France: the Gorges du Loup. Even the road is worth seeing, dug, as it is out of the rock, through the valley of the Wolf to the Wolf’sjump (Saut du Loup). Then another winding road will lead you up to Gourdin, a small village located at an altitude of nearly 3,000 feet. When the famous American millionaire Gould saw the view from this village, he was so carried away that he asked an architect how much it would cost to reproduce the same countryside, with the view over sea, valley and gorge, in California!
    But we must get back to the sea. If I take you any further inland I shall soon be describing Paris to you! Just after Cagnes, there is Antibes. A very peculiar place indeed. This is nothing to do with its fort, handsome and impressive as that is; but Antibes has the unique privilege of having more cats than anywhere else in the world. And since you have no doubt come to the Riviera as a visitor, and you might find it difficult to get around with half-a-dozen cats (Antibes has thousands of them), we shall pass on hastily to Juan-Les-Pins.
    I’m sure you must have had this charming beach described to you already; perhaps as the most immoral, or at any rate least respectable, of France’s post-War resorts. This may, for all I know, have been the reason which impelled you to come and see it. It is always best to check up these rumours first hand!
    A little earlier I pointed out that unlike Mentone and even Nice, Juan is essentially a beach for the younger generation. You will find ten times as many less-than-thirties there than more-than-sixties. And I may add, for what the information is worth, that despite a decree of the prefect of police stuck up on all the walls, but which nobody reads, you needn’t be afraid of any gendarme coming to check up the length or weight of your swimming suit. And since the sand on the beach is soft and of excellent texture, do not fly the very innocent temptations of Juan-Les-Pins, but come and see for yourself that besides being a famous centre for all forms of water sports (for instance, water-ski), it is really no less virtuous a spot for lounging and bathing than anywhere else in Europe. At Le Provençal, one of the most up-to-date hotels on the Riviera, you can get full pension from 50 francs upwards.
    Golfe-Juan, between Juan-Les-Pins and Cannes, became famous last year when the then Prince of Wales came to spend his holidays there in the magnificent Villa Le Roc.
    I should need a whole chapter to tell all the stories going around concerning the last holidays of King Edward VIII, who spent most of his time either sailing about in his yacht or at Cannes, where I need hardly add he was accompanied at every step by hundreds of journalists, photographers and sightseers.
Cannes
    Cannes, which has been nicknamed the most silent town in the world, has always been a particularly popular resort for English society people. It has a casino, several dance-halls, a number of first-class hotels, a magnificent promenade called the Croisette, and has none of the noise or other drawbacks of a big town. That is why many people prefer it to Nice.
    Its beaches are the smartest on the Riviera—the famous Palm Beach, which used to be the favourite beach of the Prince of Wales, heading the list. If the Promenade des Anglaise in Nice gives you in winter a panorama of “all Europe,” the Croisette of Cannes offers in summer an admirable selection, and none the worse for being a selection, of all those who really count in the capitals of Europe or America.
Hullo, Georges!
    In August you’d think you were in Paris when the season is in full swing. The barman of the Malmaison of the Grand Hotel is none other than the famous ex-heavy-weight champion of the world, Georges Carpentier; big advertisements announce the arrival of Antoine, the king of hairdressers; that slim negress, with the perfect back, coming out of Miramar, is Josephine Baker, the Black