St Barths

St Barths is what happens when France packs the Riviera into eight square miles of Caribbean. Gustavia's harbour fills with superyachts, the boutiques carry next season before Paris does, and lunch, the island's sacred institution, unfolds over three hours at beach clubs where rosé arrives by the magnum and shoes are optional. Yet beyond the gloss, the island is startlingly pretty and surprisingly relaxed. Fourteen beaches range from the scene at St Jean, where planes buzz the sand on approach, to the wild, empty arc of Saline, reached barefoot over the dunes. Villas with infinity pools tumble down green hillsides. The cooking is genuinely French, the produce flown in daily. St Barths is an indulgence, unapologetically. Done right, it is also one of travel's great pleasures.