For those who understand the magic of Club 55, this iconic beach club will never be quite the same.
For more than four decades, I considered Patrice a friend. And of all the fashionable establishments that have come and gone on that famous strip, none ever came close to the authentic spirit of Club 55.
Patrice cultivated a culture that encapsulated the St. Tropez we love. He welcomed the good and the great—the billionaires, the celebrities, the politicians—alongside the ‘ordinary person.’ But he never judged by money. If you were rude to his staff or unreasonably demanding, your wealth was immaterial—you simply weren’t welcome.
It was this that made Club 55 the world’s most celebrated beach club, serving 900 covers a day at its peak without resorting to gimmicks to generate revenue.
There was no loud music, no champagne-spraying, no fake fashion shows. Just the same simple cornflower blue and white cloths, the fresh flower jugs, the humble mattresses on the sand, and the tenders ferrying the cognoscenti from their yachts offshore.
It was a place where everyone was treated the same, yet a subtle pecking order remained. As an insider, you knew the quiet prestige of a table against the wall, away from the beach, reserved for the long-time home-owners and regulars. While families with children were seated in a section on the sand at the opposite side.
And if you were really an ‘insider’, the moment of the year to truly feel the spirit of Club 55 was New Year’s Day, after which it closed until the late spring, when Patrice would travel or spend time in his vineyards
I’ll share a personal memory from the last time I saw him in July.
I had rocked up from the beach late one morning, and the restaurant, as always, was full with a waitlist. There was Patrice, overseeing the seating—more of a tactical chart than a simple booking sheet. Always tan, a mop of grey hair, dressed in his signature oversized white or pale blue shirt outside his chinos.
He greeted me warmly. I asked for a table, and he gave that knowing smile that said, “You know I am more than full”. When I explained that the suggested 12:45 seating time was too early, he gave me a slightly worried glance and then said, “OK, come at 2:30 and we’ll take care of it.”
It is no surprise that when the St. Tropez mayor instructed the other Pampelonne beach clubs to be moved back and reconstructed, Club 55 remained untouched. It was a permanent, protected structure, a testament to the Colmont family’s standing.
Patrice de Colmont was an icon among icons. In all my years of travelling, he stood out alongside the likes of Gianfranco Brignone of Careyes, Andre Balazs for Chateau Marmont, the Aga Khan for Cala di Volpe, and the late Natale Rusconi of the Cipriani. His passing truly marks the end of an era in which St. Tropez became the world’s number one jet-set playground.
With deepest respect,
Anthony