“It was a hot summer, but the air was dry, and it was cool in the evening, and the water was that wonderful jade-andamethyst colour,” wrote avant-garde American painter Gerald Murphy, describing the sleepy Cap d’Antibes in the 1920s. “We bathed there and sat in the sun, and decided that this was where we wanted to be.” Along with friends Pablo Picasso, Ferdinand Léger, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda, Murphy established the tiny La Garoupe beach as the unofficial headquarters for an international enclave of artists and writers who picnicked and swam together, swapping ideas under parasols over sherry. So began a new era of the Riviera, centred around art, sunbathing, lavish parties, jazz and the construction of seaside palaces and casinos.

Now, eighty years later, the Côte d’Azur’s golden era of unmitigated glamour may appear to have receded with the overdevelopment and skyrocketing real estate, yet certain essential things really haven’t changed. As you wind down the coastal road, la Basse Corniche, you’re suddenly hit with a breathtaking vista of violet bougainvillea, windswept pines, and the sparkling blue curve of the sea. If you care to look, there are still old women bent over their hand- crocheted fishnets at the tiny port of Villefranche, Jean Cocteau’s favourite haunt, where the artist’s painted miniature pink chapel still stands. Over on the rocks are the sun-wizened locals, patiently casting their lines into the turquoise shallows. As noon is approaching, they trudge off with pails full of baby squid and tiny fish for a noontime meal of petite friture washed down with some chilled rosé from the neighbouring hills behind Nice. Whether it’s a walk through the fragrant historic exotic gardens in Menton or a visit to resplendent Belle Epoque architecture on the hilltop of Cimiez, the beauty of the landscape is as arresting as ever.

And of course, there’s the legendary climate. Through the ages, the Côte d’Azur, built on Mediterranean shores first colonised by the Greeks and Romans, has attracted a steady stream of wayfarers and free spirits in search of refuge, whether from barbaric invaders, chilly winters or urban strife. Even today, the dazzling sun holds the mythical promise of the good life.

The region’s pervasive joie de vivre bubbles up unexpectedly, perhaps while you’re savouring the heavenly taste of a vine tomato or nibbling on socca (a paper-thin savoury pancake made of chickpea flour in the open-air market of Nice’s Cour Saleya) or in a café at sunset, watching the deepening pinks and ochres of Italian-inspired architecture, while sipping Pastis. Then again, it might strike beneath the ornate frescoed ceilings of a Baroque church in the Royal Valley, or atop of the medieval perched village of Eze.

I first experienced one of those exquisite, unpredictable moments in the unlikely month of January, during a brief visit to Nice before making it my home. Only hours after leaving the cold, slushy streets of New York, I came face-to- face with an impossibly beautiful almond tree in full bloom. It seemed identical to the one in Pierre Bonnard’s celebrated final canvas, painted by the ailing artist from his bedside as he looked out at his garden in Le Cannet. Like Bonnard’s, my tree’s delicate snowy-white petals had an uncanny shimmering quality in the morning light.

On the Côte d’Azur, every season mixes its own palette of surprises. In July, vast fields of lavender colour the hillsides near Grasse, France’s perfume capital, where you can watch the process step by step at the Fragonard Museum, and also visit the Museum of Provençal Costumes and Jewellery. After the autumn rains, the warm browns and beiges of chestnuts and wild mushrooms carpet backcountry forests. Take a drive to the Mercantour National Park, near
Tende in the Vallée des Merveilles – the Valley of Marvels. Here the rock faces of Mont Bégo form an extraordinary open-air museum of nearly 30,000 rock engravings.

In winter, the landscape is splashed with the vivid yellow of mimosa and blossoming lemon trees. It’s the perfect time to explore Menton, the warmest spot on the Riviera, where lemon trees are the raison d’être for the annual citrus carnival. Only a few miles up the road the charming village of Ste-Agnès (the highest village on the coast) is perched on cliffs 2,500 feet above sea level. From this narrow cobblestone maze of artisan’s boutiques filled with sweet-smelling soaps and herbs, visitors enjoy one of the most spectacular views of the surrounding coast.

For an impressive encounter with Riviera art through the ages, there’s no need to venture further than Nice and the Roman arena of hilltop Cimiez, formerly the playground of javelin-throwing gladiators. Adjacent to the Gallo-Roman ruins you’ll find the Musée Archéologique, with artefacts from as early as 1100 BC; a medieval Franciscan monastery with vast rose gardens; and the Musée Matisse, a 17th century red-ochre village with mint-green trompe l’oeil shutters.

The Musée Matisse’s fascinating collection ranges from the artist’s early works to his late-in-life experimentation with colourful paper cut-outs. He explored their stark simplicity further in his decoration of the Chapelle du Rosaire in nearby Vence. The wooded hills inland offer the luxury of basking in art while surrounded by verdant gardens. Only a short hop away from Vence is the Fondation Maeght in St-Paul-de-
Vence, set in a pine grove, with works by 20th century masters, including everything from towering sculptures by Miro and Calder to Georges Braque’s violet stained- glass dove in the museum’s small stone chapel.

It’s probably true that every man’s home is his castle, particularly if it overlooks the sapphire-blue Mediterranean. Above the ancient ramparts of Antibes, Picasso lived and worked for a year in the 12th century Château Grimaldi, now a museum of his works. Several wealthy Riviera dreamers built their own seaside follies that are now open to the public: The Villa Kérylos, constructed by turn-of- the-century Greekophile Théodore Reinach is a faithful copy of a fifth century Athenian palace; the Château Musée in Mandelieula-Napoule, is a medieval- style castle built by eccentric 1920s expatriate artist Henry Clews, who adorned his dream mansion with his own bizarre sculptures.

The Côte d’Azur is still for dreamers. In the past several years, the younger artsy generation have flocked to the Riviera and exciting new galleries, ultra-modern restaurants and high tech innovative hotels have been popping up everywhere. Nice may be one of France’s largest cities, but the urban rhythms are more gentle than in northern climes. And where else can you dine on flowers – bright yellow zucchini blossoms – in just about any neighbourhood restaurant?

These visions, like the resplendent almond tree in the dead of winter, awaken the artist in us all. RH