There's something about St. Barts. You notice it from the time your plane makes the final turn toward the rugged coastline of this 8-square-mile island. Sleek and shiny private yachts lie anchored off crescent coves backed by sharp brown hills speckled with red-roofed villas, each engaged to a brilliant-cut aquamarine pool.
The enchanting scenery fades to gray for a moment, however, when you realize the pilot is diving toward a road chiseled into the top of a mountain. But then, as the plane skims across the peak, the view bursts into blues where the sky meets the ocean, which laps at the end of the runway. Maybe it's the exhilaration of the landing, but when you step onto the tarmac and take your first look around, the light seems to have an especially fine quality, and everything appears in crisp focus.
Once the exclusive playground of the world's wealthiest and most celebrated, St. Barts' toniness has been toned down a bit over the years simply because, by definition, no place can stay trendy indefinitely. It still attracts far more than its share of A-listers, but now more real people, especially couples on romantic vacations, join the glitterati on the beaches and in the shops and restaurants.
Although it's certainly a tourist destination, St. Barts is not touristy. Aside from a few fabulous hotels, the only accommodations are in villas that, due to the mountainous topography, all have stunning sea views. Most visitors settle into their rented homes, shop for groceries at the local market and
frequent a favorite beach. This gives the island more the feel of a summer beach town, where everyone has something in common, than of a large-scale, revolving-door hotspot.
The connection people have with St. Barts, the pride the locals take in their home, and the obvious affluence has led it to become almost like an exclusive theme-park version of the Caribbean. It's remarkably clean and safe, everyone you meet appears youthful and friendly, and even the tiny candy-colored cars look like they should be attached to a track running through Gustavia, the sparkling little train set of a capital town.
It's in Gustavia -- the strange name for a French locale is a leftover from Sweden's only foray into Caribbean colonialism -- that you'll find the essence of the island's sunny, Provence-style sophistication. Visitors stroll between boutiques filled with haute couture before making their way to tables with views of the snug waterfront for leisurely two-hour lunches. The ideal St. Barts afternoon is then spent -- topless, perhaps, if you're feeling continental -- sharing a chilled bottle of wine on one of its 20 beaches.
Evenings bring spectacular sunsets from your villa, one of the western beaches or the traditional spot for a St. Barts' sundowner: the bar at the Carl Gustaf on a hillside embracing Gustavia.
As you'd imagine, the selection of restaurants is stellar. And the nightlife is fueled by the attractive young Frenchies who spend a season or two here after finishing university, adding a shot of hip and sexy to the sunny, and chic, which, all together, makes up that special something about St. Barts.
Posted online 03/23/04.
