When arriving in the blazing sunshine of a relentless July afternoon, the house is sleeping, its windows peacefully shuttered against the Mediterranean heat. Painted a delicate shade of butter yellow, the exterior acts as a modest yet charming introduction to the playful interior within—a delightful ode to treating the consistency of traditional design rules as entirely optional.
Downstairs, behind those protective shutters, lie two identical bedrooms that differ only in their striking color palettes. One room is bathed entirely in vibrant pink, while the other is drenched in rich ochre. From crisp sheets and matching ceramic sinks to fluffy towels and vibrant tiles, every single element obediently adheres to its respective color scheme. Soft muslin linen and squashy feather bedding cover comfortable mattresses, while individual showers are cleverly tucked away into arched alcoves.
These identical, color-blocked chambers present a compelling argument for the complete eradication of the traditional primary suite. After all, a holiday is no time to feel aggrieved by the comparative square footage of a travel companion’s quarters. There is something profoundly luxurious about stepping directly out of the blistering heat of the day into these cool, dark sanctuaries, resting under full and fluffed duvets regardless of the thermometer outside. As a result, guests sleep soundly through the night.
On this particular getaway, a group of friends have gathered in search of the classic three S’s: sun, sea, and uninterrupted sleep. Situated right in the middle of the tiny, picturesque village of Les Goudes on the outskirts of Marseille, the apartment serves as an ideal base. The location operates as a veritable utopia for creative professionals and anyone harboring ambitions of joining their ranks.
Much like other gentrified periphery towns across Europe, Les Goudes has inspired a clutch of chic, bijou openings during its recent rise to cultural stardom. Where visitors might once have struggled to find a simple iced coffee, they can now source artisanal brews from multiple shops featuring hand-painted signage and eclectic vintage furniture spilling out onto the sidewalks.
The village is perhaps most famous for housing the Tuba Club, an irresistibly ostentatious and wildly expensive restaurant set directly on the rugged rocks, which moonlights as a laidback seaside hangout. Of course, the area also features more traditional restaurants that have profited from their proximity to the sea for generations. These establishments serve authentic Marseillais cuisine while offering panoramic sunset views across boats bobbing merrily in the harbor, their hulls illuminated by the dancing reflections of crystal-clear waters.
Yet, despite the culinary pedigree of the neighborhood, there is one local spot that commands the most unrelenting queues, located conveniently right beside the front door of the apartment: the village gelateria.
In what might serve as an informal study on human happiness, satisfaction levels among the traveling group increased in direct proportion to their proximity to this local ice cream shop. Trips next door yielded double scoops of gelato twice a day—flavors ranging from coconut and chocolate to mini stracciatella and refreshing strawberry sorbet—proving that few things put a skip in a traveler’s step quite as quickly.
To balance out the steady stream of ice cream, the group spends their sun-drenched days star-fishing in the turquoise Mediterranean waters, eating barbecued turbot and fresh clams while overlooking the sea, and hiking up and down rugged coastal hills in search of secluded rocky coves to claim as their own. Impossibly chic French families can be seen sprawling beneath striped parasols and eating fresh peaches, while visitors apply generous layers of SPF 50 and momentarily daydream of a life blessed with naturally olive skin.
It is a recipe for a particular kind of salty, satisfying exhaustion—the sort of profound tiredness that encourages long afternoons lounging in the comfort of a beach house, or cabana, as the locals call it.
Upstairs, the energy of the home shifts in the expansive open-plan living space. The upper level is a vibrant clash of textures, featuring neutral walls offset by bold pops of color, fantastically wiggly ornaments, and a statement L-shaped sofa upholstered in pink and green candy stripes that provides ample room for everyone to sprawl out comfortably.
It is immediately clear that no expense was spared during the renovation process. This becomes evident during an enthusiastic game of "guess the price," where guests use reverse image search tools on their phones to look up items and gasp aloud at their monetary value. Beyond the shock factor, however, there is a deep appreciation for the deliberate thought behind every design decision. No stone has been left unturned in the pursuit of modern comfort. The space is equipped with a massive, high-end projector screen, a top-of-the-range outdoor grill, and a sophisticated built-in sound system that makes the property feel less like a standard vacation rental and more like a boutique luxury hotel.
Just off the lounge, an expansive balcony offers views of cotton candy skies as the group sits down for the ultimate leisurely dinner on their final night. With the fragrant scent of nearby fig trees drifting on the evening breeze, they enjoy a spread of crisp salads, fresh bread, artisanal cheese, and charcuterie before eventually tumbling into bed, harboring a collective heartbreak over the fact that their time in the village has come to an end.
Repeat-visit holiday homes have long been viewed as a peculiar concept. With an entire world left to explore and experience, the logic of returning to the exact same destination year after year can seem questionable. Yet, a single visit to Les Goudes has completely turned that philosophy on its head. This is a place worthy of returning to time and time again—provided, of course, that the pink bedroom remains available.
