There’s one thing about the French Riviera that is unmissable — the color of the buildings.
As I have explored Nice, Antibes, Cannes, Villefranche-sur-Mer, and Eze over the past few days, I’ve admired the vibrant color of the buildings. Pastel shades of yellow, orange, red, pink, green, and blue adorn the mountainsides overlooking the sea. As you walk through the narrow streets of these charming coastal towns, a vast array of color envelops you, like a whale swallowing fish. Even some of the churches are painted in this way, like the Chapelle Saint-Pierre in Villefranche-sur-Mer.
As someone who loves pastel colors, I am constantly aware of how rarely they are incorporated into modern American design or architecture. Occasionally these colors may show up in beach towns along the east coast, but they do not dominate the landscape in the same way they do here. At best, you might come across a nursery room in someone’s home painted in pastel blue or pink. But we, in America, do not often use pastel colors, especially on the outside of buildings.
This is why, as I traverse through the French Riviera, I am filled with a sense of bliss looking at these buildings. However, they are not unique to the French Riviera; these brightly colored houses can be found in Italy, Greece, Spain, and other cities and towns spanning across the Mediterranean. As it turns out, because this has become such a distinctive feature of this region of the world, there are strict guidelines that local residents must adhere to.
For example, as per Riviera Route, the regional government in Liguria, Italy declared the colors a “fundamental value” of the Ligurian people. In Nice and Monaco, every shade of color used—from the façades (that is, the front of the buildings) to the window shutters—must be chosen from a pre-approved color chart guide, known locally as the nuancier. I'm not certain how strictly this is enforced, but the documentation from the Mairie de Nice certainly seems official. And from what I’ve observed in Nice, residents do seem to abide by these guidelines. This concerted effort to establish a unified image allows the building colors to create a mesmerizing effect that seeps into the very essence of this place.
This, of course, would never fly in the United States. We care far too much about individual liberty and freedom of expression to concern ourselves with following strict rules about what color our houses can or cannot be painted.
But maybe that’s for the best. Because without the rows and rows of monotonous brick houses that I pass in South Philly, the houses and buildings in the Mediterranean would not have enchanted me the way that they have over the past week. And, in the spirit of individual liberty, one can always use these colors to inspire the design of their own home.
So that is what I will do.
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There’s one thing about the French Riviera that is unmissable — the color of the buildings.
As I have explored Nice, Antibes, Cannes, Villefranche-sur-Mer, and Eze over the past few days, I’ve admired the vibrant color of the buildings. Pastel shades of yellow, orange, red, pink, green, and blue adorn the mountainsides overlooking the sea. As you walk through the narrow streets of these charming coastal towns, a vast array of color envelops you, like a whale swallowing fish. Even some of the churches are painted in this way, like the Chapelle Saint-Pierre in Villefranche-sur-Mer.
As someone who loves pastel colors, I am constantly aware of how rarely they are incorporated into modern American design or architecture. Occasionally these colors may show up in beach towns along the east coast, but they do not dominate the landscape in the same way they do here. At best, you might come across a nursery room in someone’s home painted in pastel blue or pink. But we, in America, do not often use pastel colors, especially on the outside of buildings.
This is why, as I traverse through the French Riviera, I am filled with a sense of bliss looking at these buildings. However, they are not unique to the French Riviera; these brightly colored houses can be found in Italy, Greece, Spain, and other cities and towns spanning across the Mediterranean. As it turns out, because this has become such a distinctive feature of this region of the world, there are strict guidelines that local residents must adhere to.
For example, as per Riviera Route, the regional government in Liguria, Italy declared the colors a “fundamental value” of the Ligurian people. In Nice and Monaco, every shade of color used—from the façades (that is, the front of the buildings) to the window shutters—must be chosen from a pre-approved color chart guide, known locally as the nuancier. I'm not certain how strictly this is enforced, but the documentation from the Mairie de Nice certainly seems official. And from what I’ve observed in Nice, residents do seem to abide by these guidelines. This concerted effort to establish a unified image allows the building colors to create a mesmerizing effect that seeps into the very essence of this place.
This, of course, would never fly in the United States. We care far too much about individual liberty and freedom of expression to concern ourselves with following strict rules about what color our houses can or cannot be painted.
But maybe that’s for the best. Because without the rows and rows of monotonous brick houses that I pass in South Philly, the houses and buildings in the Mediterranean would not have enchanted me the way that they have over the past week. And, in the spirit of individual liberty, one can always use these colors to inspire the design of their own home.
So that is what I will do.
