Some holiday rentals are a base. Others are the whole point of the trip. A writer for Condé Nast Traveler just made the case for the second kind with a love letter to an Airbnb in Les Goudes, a small fishing village on the edge of Marseille that has quietly become the south of France's most stylish seaside hangout.
The house itself plays it coy from the street — butter-yellow shutters closed against the July heat — but inside it's a full send on playful design. Downstairs are two identical bedrooms in identical layouts, differing only in colour: one entirely pink, the other entirely ochre, right down to the sheets, towels and tiles. Each has its own shower in an arched alcove and feather-topped bedding, which makes the cool, dark rooms a genuine relief after a day in the Provençal sun. The writer's verdict: twin rooms of equal size end all bedroom envy — a smart setup for group trips.
Upstairs, the open-plan living space doubles down. There's a candy-striped pink-and-green L-shaped sofa, wiggly ornaments, neutral walls with bursts of colour, a projector screen, a serious outdoor grill and built-in speakers. When the group played "guess the price" by image-searching the furnishings, the totals drew gasps — this is an Airbnb styled closer to a boutique hotel.
But the village deserves as much attention as the house. Les Goudes sits where Marseille spills into the calanques, and its recent glow-up has brought vintage-furnished cafés, iced coffee and a gelateria with unrelenting queues directly next door to the rental. The most famous table in town is Tuba Club, a flamboyant (and pricey) restaurant built out on the rocks that still manages to feel relaxed. More traditional harbourside spots serve classic Marseillais seafood with sunset views over bobbing boats.
The daily rhythm here is simple: swim in turquoise coves reached by stomping up and down hills, eat barbecued turbot and clams overlooking the Mediterranean, double-scoop your way past the gelateria (coconut-chocolate and strawberry sorbet got repeat orders), and collapse into bed properly, saltily exhausted. On the final night the group ate salads, cheese, charcuterie and fresh bread on the balcony under cotton-candy skies, with fig trees scenting the air.
The writer arrived a sceptic about repeat-visit holiday homes — too much world, too little time — and left converted, declaring she'd return year after year, on the condition of securing the pink bedroom. For anyone planning a group trip to the south of France who wants design, swimming, and serious food within a five-minute stroll, this corner of Marseille makes a compelling pitch.
First published by Condé Nast Traveler.
