According to Vanity Fair, Croatia is the new French riviera

Island-Hopping in Croatia (Affordably)

Dear Victoria,

I keep hearing about “new Rivieras.” Where are they?


Paris, France

Dear Fleur,

F. Scott Fitzgerald, having helped popularize the original French Riviera, should be living at this hour. If he were, he and Zelda and Gerald and Sara Murphy would undoubtedly set up camp in Croatia: hundreds of islands and miles of cove-pocked coast on the gin-clear Adriatic sea. In addition to the swimming, a main draw is the little, family-run restaurants where lobster, amberjack, bream, and shrimp jump straight onto your plate from the fisherman’s boat via the fire of a wood-burning oven.

In recent years, Croatia and the tiny, mountainous country to its south, Montenegro, have emerged as the glamour pusses of Eastern Europe, tucked up a finger of the Mediterranean opposite Italy. This is where you should be this summer, lolling on a yacht. The dream boat would be Beluga, owned by Lady Weinberg (the interior designer Anouska Hempel who gave us the hip, black-themed hotel, Blakes, in London). A 28-meter Turkish gullet with black sails, butler, antique linen swathing beds in three cabins, a private PADI diving instructor, and staff from Blakes to administer black-squid risotto to 18 for dinner, it has everything you need to momentarily believe that there’s no recession in paradise. Sail to Vis, the island with the most magical natural harbor, where Tito ran his resistance movement during the war from a cave, and then set off for Hvar, a lavender-scented isle where the streets were paved by the Venetians. Dine a couple of miles offshore at Zori (, a family-run restaurant on the car-free island of Palmizana. It’s like the South of France in the old Princess Grace days: white linen tablecloths, flowers, stuffed calamari and figs and almonds in lavender syrup.

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