In swank St. Barth’s, it’s hard to imagine that it’s only the Gucci-clad glitterati that live here. In an effort to see for myself, I rented a jeep and on a quiet Sunday morning drove around the island. I stopped at L’Orient Beach where my question was answered. Families played in the turquoise sea, suntanned, surfed, ate sandwiches while leaning against the colorful surf shack. It was the antithesis of the rosé-fueled scene at Nikki Beach on the other side of the island. I sat and watched for an hour, trying to take photos, but slipped away, feeling very much the interloper.
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Surf's Up
In swank St. Barth’s, it’s hard to imagine that it’s only the Gucci-clad glitterati that live here. In an effort to see for myself, I rented a jeep and on a quiet Sunday morning drove around the island. I stopped at L’Orient Beach where my question was answered. Families played in the turquoise sea, suntanned, surfed, ate sandwiches while leaning against the colorful surf shack. It was the antithesis of the rosé-fueled scene at Nikki Beach on the other side of the island. I sat and watched for an hour, trying to take photos, but slipped away, feeling very much the interloper.
