Cannes. It’s getting to be a habit.
I’ve been three times on assignment in the past year and recently returned from another and very timely timely sojourn.
The reason? The Cannes International Film Festival opens tomorrow — May 17. This year marks 70 years of cinema heritage [mural pictured above].
I was there to report back on preparations for a feature in this weekend’s Telegraph Travel.
But, joining an escorted tour for a few days, I was also trying to put the glamour of the Riviera into context.
I explored some of the reports, spanning the French-Italian border, frequented by the British gentry long before the likes of Brigitte Bardot [pictured below] arrived with photographers in hot pursuit.
I’m not a natural high roller.
If I was Daniel Craig in Casino Royale, then I’d be sporting a freshly pressed tuxedo, sipping a martini, shaken not stirred of course, and nonchalantly placing all my chips on black 17.
In reality I’m budget Bond: a Ben Sherman shirt, sipping an espresso and observing the oligarchs at play from a safe distance.
Still, at least I can still admire the Belle Époque ceiling and renaissance frescos in the Europa gaming room of Monte Carlo Casino.
After all, I have paid 17 Euros just to walk inside.
Read more in Telegraph Travel this Saturday.
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