market research

I arrived in Provence on Wednesday with a highly-researched suitcase and a fairly under-researched itinerary. This was not an accident: with just 102 hours in the South of France with a few friends, I figured we’d let the days reveal themselves. Turns out, that’s just enough time to develop strong opinions about where to get an iced coffee, which market deserves our morning, the precise Provençal print I suddenly needed in pareo form, and whether one more basket bag can reasonably be considered research. (The answer is yes.)

Maybe because summer is suddenly starting to feel finite, I definitely found myself paying closer attention than usual on this trip. Like not trying to do Provence so much as savor the delectable details: the market vendor selling the tastiest truffled artichoke tapenade, the baguette worth lining up for (Terre et Blé, an organic farm-to-table bakery in Saint-Rémy), the beautifully appointed under-the-radar Avignon hotel I wanted to move into and the jambon buerre sandwich (La Maison Jouvaud) to fuel shopping laps around L’Isle Sur La Sorgue. So, while it’s all still fresh, my Provence file:

First: Eygalières.

A dear friend (a former Angeleno and recent transplant) described it to me as the Aspen of Provence, which initially sounded curious and then, after approximately seven minutes there, made complete sense. Tiny, beautiful, vintage Porsche-fancy, populated by people who look as though they just happened to throw on an excellent white button-down before buying tomatoes. Eygalières sits in the Alpilles, in the orbit of Saint-Rémy, Gordes, Ménerbes, L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue and the other villages people loosely group into Provence’s extremely photogenic Golden Triangle. The distances are short enough that you can market-hop, coffee-hop and village-hop without turning the trip into a road rally—which, for me, is key. I like an itinerary that leaves room for side quests. Speaking of, before hitting the market on Friday, I walked about 200 meters uphill from the center of the village to the ruins of its 13th-century château and donjon for a 360-degree view over the Alpilles. To burn off the week’s above-average baguette consumption, I trekked even further but not the roughly 10K loop toward the postcard-famous Chapelle Saint-Sixte. Next time!

Afterward, I popped into Chez Emily, below, for yes, more bread and butter, and epic people-watching.

The markets require strategy.

Saint-Rémy’s big market takes over the historic center every Wednesday morning, spilling through the streets with produce, flowers, cheese, olives, spices, textiles, baskets, ceramics and all the things you didn’t know you needed until you see them hanging from a stall flanked by pastel-painted window shutters.

Also: the basket bags. Every possible proportion, weave and handle length. I realize “buy a basket in Provence” is hardly breaking travel news, but this is one cliché I fully endorse.

L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is a different operation. Its major market days are Thursday and Sunday, with the Sunday brocante layered on top—which means produce and cheese coexist with antiques, linens, furniture and the possibility of losing several hours to something I absolutely cannot fit in my deceptively small suitcase.

My advice: don’t treat the markets as interchangeable, and go early to nab a parking spot and beat the crowds. Saint-Rémy for the full (um, overwhelming) sensory Provençal-food-and-basket fantasy; L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue when you’re game to go down the vintage/brocante rabbit hole. Eygalieres for a more mellow and tightly edited assortment (i.e., no antiques). And bring cash, sunscreen and less confidence than I did about how much your tote bag can hold.

Coffee intel, because this matters.

After enough tiny French coffees, sometimes you just want a flat white. Or, in August, an iced coffee the size of an actual beverage. Colette became our answer. It is exactly the sort of place you want to discover on vacation: cute enough to photograph and capable of supplying the caffeine required for another market.

Then there was Souleiado.

I went looking for the OG Provençal print (inspired by current Celine, naturally) and discovered Souleiado, the historic signature florals, vibrant paisleys and saturated motifs that can veer very quickly into I have purchased a tablecloth and am now wearing it. (I ended up buying a scarf and tied it around my bag, below!) I became obsessed with hunting down more versions of the print that felt most modern: a little less Provençal, a little more Michael Rider’s Céline (I snapped up the bandana shirt and pareo, below).

More of what I wore.

I packed for peak August: Bare legs + light blue plaid. Elegant pleats + silk shorts. A beaded skirt (first pic). Knit florettes. Sparkle and more sparkle (always). A brown Call It By Your Name bandana print tote. My $35 blue “M” necklace charm. A cummerbund that pulled hot and humid together. A black boat neck top and a low-slung skirt that made everything look approximately 30 percent more French. Hot pink and multi-hued fringe because, despite all this September talk, it’s still very much summer.

Maybe that’s what I loved most about these 102 hours. They landed right in that tiny, bittersweet window when summer is still fully happening but I’m suddenly conscious that it won’t be for much longer. So I squeezed the juice out of it harder. One more market. One more swim. One more completely indefensible croissant. No saving things for tomorrow when there are only so many summer tomorrows left. I’m not ready for fall. But I am ready chestnut checks and shiny black leather flats, and, thanks to Provence, carrying basket bags well past their expiration date.