Toile Blanche

For those of you juggling a freelance schedule, house renovation and a two-year-old determined to live up to the ‘terrible’ stereotype, you’ll appreciate that a child-free minibreak with my other half sounded like the stuff dreams are made of – no pressure on our South of France getaway to deliver, then. The joys of child-free travel came flooding back from the get-go. Watching a couple with a screaming toddler negotiate the queue at passport control squashed any regrets we may have felt for leaving ours behind. Guilt-free, we landed in the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region; and, what felt like mere minutes after stepping off the plane, a driver our hotel had kindly organised dropped us off at centuries-old farmhouse-turned-hotel Toile Blanche, where the unwind could begin.
 
It’s hard not to fall into an instant sense of serenity at Toile Blanche. A personal welcome at the gate and a smooth check-in instantly made us feel like we were staying with the kind of ‘estate-owning friends’ everyone wishes they had. After a quick tour of the rustic yet manicured grounds we were left to our own devices, and in the time it took for me to drop our bags, Mr Smith was half undressed and spread out like a basking lizard on a sunlounger in our rose-clad private terrace.
 
Neutrally hued decor and the sound of birdsong add to the sense of calm here – it was the antithesis of the plastic debris, kids’ show jingles and overall chaos we experience on a daily basis at home. I was already getting excited about the humongous bed that demanded at least a 12-hour sleep – yes, sleep! But I was already near-somnambulant at that point, as we’d booked massages on arrival – an absolute luxury thanks to Amandine, who’s been lowering guests’ stress levels here for the last 14 years. We took ours in the intimacy of our room, which was complete bliss (FYI Amandine’s services are cash only, so be sure to make a pit-stop at the ATM at Nice airport beforehand).
 
But before sleep, there was food to be had. In low season the hotel restaurant closes on Mondays, but this gave us an excuse to explore what mediaeval commune Saint-Paul de Vence (beloved by Picasso, Sartre, James Baldwin and other creative sorts) had to offer. A cocktail at the hotel bar was definitely in order before dinner. There’s nothing quite like the kickstart of a negroni to get the blood pumping for the 20-minute uphill walk into town – not for the faint-hearted, but you’re well-rewarded on arrival. This ancient village had numerous passageways and cobbled streets that led to little squares and arresting vistas – altogether an absolute delight. We ate at picturesque restaurant Le Tilleul in one of the main squares, and on this perfect late summer’s evening felt like characters from a Woody Allen movie without the imminent love-triangle drama.
 
Back at Toile Blanche the next day – and not being ones for closing curtains – we woke to soft sunlight, nursing a fogginess from the previous night’s rosé and the heaviness of a very good night’s sleep, delighted that breakfast awaited us on the terrace. Both Mr Smith and I are a sucker for a croissant and the French did not disappoint. Maybe it’s eating them against a backdrop of rolling Provençal hills that instantly makes everything taste better…who knows? With lunch booked at the nearby La Colombe D’or, we tried not to overindulge in fresh fruit, bread baskets, cheeses, yoghurt and granola. However, sitting there, peacefully drinking my coffee – having given in and eaten everything in sight – watching clouds float off to reveal bright blue sky, I questioned why we would bother to visit anywhere else.
 
Our real lives briefly crept back in after lunch, as I thought about how much our son would have loved the pool; with two to choose from there would have been plenty of splashing about. The hotel does cater for children and I know our son would have been more than welcome; however they try to limit the number of under-16s in respect for honeymooners or those looking for tranquility. But Mr Smith did his best job of jumping in like a carefree child himself while I freshened up in our to-die-for rainfall shower. Call me old-fashioned, but I love an excuse to get a little dressed up in the evening, and as it was our last night we decided to eat at the hotel. Low-key but refined, the food was delicious; especially the prawns in a black-garlic reduction. Sitting on the rooftop terrace, you dine against a backdrop of twinkling lights from the buildings dotting the surrounding hillsides and to the sound of trickling water from the fountain below. It was magical. 
 
As our break drew to a close, we were sad that it had come around so soon. I spoke with Caroline, one of the owners, who told me excitedly about upcoming renovations over the winter period – a new restaurant interior, and upgrades to the pool, bar, the villas and dedicated spa area – which made the prospect of returning to this slice of heaven even more tempting. There’s no denying that Saint-Paul de Vence was, and still is, a haven for artists, and the hotel name Toile Blanche seems relatively apt considering it offers a holistic ‘palette cleanse’ – and it’s owned by artists the Leroy Brothers, with numerous examples of their work decorating each room – but thinking of this place as simply a ‘blank canvas’ doesn’t do it justice.
 
This is no hotel void of life – I found it layered with familial friendliness and casual charm and vibrant with nature. Staff even offered to have a tree planted instead of having your room cleaned for a day, showing one of the ways this hotel is as invested in the community and the planet as they are their guests. We headed back to the airport with a renewed vigour, ready to tackle potty-training on our return (you really can go from the lap of luxury to knee deep in poop in the space of a few hours) and were grateful that in the trying times ahead, we had the comfort of looking back on our days at Toile Blanche and feeling so grateful for the chance to reset in the sort of warm embrace grown-ups and parents desperately need from time to time.