Old Fashioned, Pine Air, and the Riviera
A Pause Between Chapters: Antibes
Stepping Away to Tune In
Late afternoon light slipped across the tiled streets of Antibes, warm enough to carry the scent of salt from the harbour. The breeze moved slowly, as if it knew there was no rush. I had come here without a plan, without a clock to answer to.
Only weeks earlier, I had closed a meaningful chapter in Dresden and stepped away from my professional role. It was not the urge to begin something new that guided me, but the need to stand still long enough to hear my own thoughts again. The instinct to pause brought me to the French Riviera. I did not question it. I simply followed the current until it placed me here.
An Evening at Eden-Roc
One evening I walked into the legendary Hotel du Cap-Eden-Roc. I was not staying there, yet a room is not required to feel its presence. From the first step beyond the threshold, the air shifted — pine and salt braided together in a breeze that felt intentional.
There was no ostentation, only an elegance that spoke in the low voice of polished wood and weathered stone. Beyond the terrace, the sea folded into itself under the fading light. Beauty here did not ask to be noticed, it simply was.
I found a quiet corner, ordered an old fashioned with just enough ice to slow its amber weight, and lit a cigar. The intention was simple: to sit in stillness and let the Riviera’s calm take root.
A Conversation That Stayed With Me
Not long after I arrived, a conversation began with Daniel Marshall. It started lightly, prompted by the arc of a seagull over the terrace, and deepened without force.
We spoke of craft, of travel, of leadership, and the quiet discipline behind intentional work. The exchange was unhurried, giving space for silences to shape the rhythm.
At one point I said, “I do not smoke, but I like to taste cigars.”
He replied, “Exactly. We do not smoke cigars, we taste them.”
The line was more than about cigars. It was a way of approaching life — to savour instead of consume, to choose presence over pace.
Why Cigars Mean Something More
My own cigar ritual began with my brother. Later, it became something shared with a mentor. Now it belongs to evenings with my father. When I return home, we sit with a cigar and a well-crafted cocktail, speaking not of the surface but of the undercurrents — the patterns recognised, the turns unseen, and the lessons that stay.
Cigars, for me, create a space that asks for the right company and the right energy. That evening in Antibes offered both.
Vibe Is Everything
As the sun dropped behind the trees and the sea turned a deeper blue, a stillness settled over the terrace. It was not emptiness, but a presence so complete it required no explanation.
It confirmed something I have always known. The feeling is everything. In a place, in a creation, in a person, it is the feeling that endures long after the details fade. This is the essence of hospitality. It is the root of connection. It is the measure of meaningful work.
Looking Ahead
Antibes was more than a destination. It became a golden pause between chapters, a reminder that clarity rarely arrives at speed. It appears when you slow down enough to notice the colour of the dusk, the weight of a glass in your hand, the sound of the sea answering the wind.
I left with that evening still on my breath, carrying the taste of oak, the scent of pine, and the calm of a horizon that refused to be rushed.
Clarity doesn’t arrive with noise or haste. It waits in stillness, in places like Antibes where the sea listens more than it speaks.