Home Work: Andrej Gronau Rewrites the Rules of Dress from the Living Room Out

The comforts of home were the centerpiece of Andrej Gronau's new collection in Berlin. Photograph (above) and cover picture by Jay Zoo for DAM.

One of the highlights of Berlin Fashion Week, Andrej Gronau’s Autumn/Winter 2026 collection made the domestic interior the starting point for contemporary dress. The London-trained designer, who launched his label in 2022, used the season to examine how comfort, privacy, and personal space shape what we wear, translating household materials and silhouettes directly into clothing. The result was a collection that treated the home not as an escape from fashion, but as its organising system. Story by Antonio Visconti. Photography by Jay Zoo 

A mid-century vibe of housecoats

permeated Andrej Gronau's collection.

ANDREJ Gronau has emerged as an articulate voice in contemporary European ready-to-wear. A Central Saint Martins graduate, the designer operates with a clarity of intent: his clothes consistently probe the uneasy but fertile ground between youthful naivety and adult restraint, between intimacy and public performance. Nostalgia is present, but not sentimental; instead, it is filtered through precise tailoring, unexpected textures, and a subversive sense of play.

"The collection thrives in this tension between good and bad taste, between style and fashion sins, between what we show and what we hide," explains the designer.

The Autumn/Winter 2026 range, titled Room-For-Play, was presented at an apartment in Berlin. Rather than treating fashion as spectacle, Gronau framed the collection around a familiar structure: the home. 

Drawing inspiration from the dollhouse, not as a toy but as a system of rooms, rules, and contradictions, the designer asked what happens when adulthood moves back into spaces associated with comfort, decoration, and privacy. The result is a body of work that turned the interior inside out, translating domestic logic directly into dress.

Upholstery to blankets and carpets to curtains inspire the textiles and designs of the collection, including velour, and brocade. Even fabrics traditionally hidden indoors such as terry towelling, knitwear and fleece, were part of the concept. "The fabrics we reserve for ourselves, for rest, for softness, for pleasure are made visible and wearable" Gronau says. "At home, taste behaves differently. In public, it is trained and performed. Inside, it slips."

Rather than treating fashion as spectacle, Andrej Gronau framed the collection around a familiar structure: the home.

Fleece skirts and brocade tops

were inspired by upholstery. 

Fleeced, belted skirts and demure housecoats suggest mid-century domestic elegance without lapsing into costume and styled with shoes soft enough to recall slippers, dissolve conventional dress codes.

Knitwear, already a Gronau signature, played a central role. Intarsia bow cardigans and sweaters appeared alongside shrunken fluffy pullovers in ecru, turquoise, lilac, and aquamarine. 

The colour palette, warm, saturated, and optimistic, stood in deliberate contrast to the neutrals the designer sees as part of conformity in the outside world. It underscored Gronau’s growing confidence as a colourist and reinforced the emotional core of the collection.

"Saturated yellows, turquoise, mint and gold recall the era when velvet and velour ruled interiors with confidence and warmth," says the designer. " These tones clash deliberately with bureaucratic greys, the uniform we slip into when leaving for the office."

Underlying Room-For-Play was autobiography. Memories of Gronau's grandmother’s villa, layered with decades of mismatched rooms and decorative excess, informed the collection’s embrace of inconsistency. A second observation, seeing his infant nephew dressed in a miniature adult suit, sparked a provocation: why do adults cling so tightly to rules, while denying themselves joy? With this collection, Andrej Gronau offered a persuasive answer. His vision suggests that refinement and rebellion are not opposites, but domestic partners, coexisting comfortably, especially at home.

Scroll down to see more highlights from the Andrej Gronau Autumn/Winter 2026 collection in Berlin

Backstage at the Andrej Gronau AW26 show at Berlin Fashion Week 

Frank Gehry, the Architect of the Unconventional, the Accidental, and the Inspiring

The sinuous forms of Frank Gehry's Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. Photograph: Sean Pavone/Getty Images. Cover picture of the architect's Guggenheim Museum and Bilbao River. Photograph: Maremagnum/Getty Images.

By Michael I. Ostwald

Architect Frank Gehry in his studio

with models of his designs. 

In April 2005, The Simpsons featured an episode where Marge, embarrassed by her hometown’s reputation for being uneducated and uncultured, invites a world-famous architect to design a new concert hall for the city.

The episode cuts to the architect, Frank Gehry (playing himself), outside his house in Santa Monica, receiving Marge’s letter. 

He is frustrated by the request and crumples the letter, throwing it to the ground. Looking down, the creased and ragged paper inspires him, and the episode cuts to a model of his concert hall for Springfield, which copies the shape of the crumpled letter. 

By building Gehry’s design, the people of Springfield hoped to send a signal to the world that a new era of culture had arrived. As it often did, this episode of The Simpsons references a real-life phenomenon, which Gehry was credited with triggering, the “Bilbao effect”.

In 1991, the city of Bilbao in northern Spain sought to enhance its economic and cultural standing by establishing a major arts centre. Gehry was commissioned to design the Bilbao Guggenheim, proposing a 57-metre-high building, a spiralling vortex of titanium and glass, along the banks of the Nervión River

Using software developed for aerospace industries, Gehry designed a striking, photogenic building, sharply contrasting with the city’s traditional stone and masonry streetscapes.

Finished in 1997, the response to Gehry’s building was overwhelming. Bilbao was transformed into an international tourist destination, revitalising the city and boosting its cultural credentials and economic prospects. As a result, many cities tried to reproduce the so-called “Bilbao effect” by combining iconic architecture and the arts to encourage a cultural renaissance.

Gehry, who has died at 96, leaves a powerful legacy, visible in many major cities, in the media, in galleries and in popular culture.

Guggenheim Museum, Avenida Abandoibarra, Bilbao, Spain. Elizabeth Hanchett/Unsplash

An architect’s life

Gehry was born Frank Owen Goldberg in Toronto, Canada, in 1929 and emigrated to Los Angeles in the late 1940s, where he changed his surname to Gehry. He studied architecture and urban planning and established a successful commercial practice in 1962.

It wasn’t until the late 1970s, when he began experimenting with alterations and additions to his own house, that he began to develop his signature approach to architecture. An approach that was both visionary and confronting.

Gehry and his son, Alejandro, in the yard in front of his self-designed home, Santa Monica, California, January 1980. Susan Wood/Getty Images

In 1977, Gehry purchased a colonial bungalow on a typical suburban street in Santa Monica. Soon after, he began peeling back its cladding and exposing its structural frame. He added a jumble of plywood panels, corrugated metal walls, and chain-link fencing, giving the impression of a house in a perpetual state of demolition or reconstruction.

Its fragmented, unfinished expression offended the neighbours but also led to his being exhibited in the landmark 1988 Museum of Modern Art’s Deconstructivist Architecture show.

At this event, Gehry’s house was featured alongside a range of subversive, anti-establishment works, catapulting him to international fame.

The Walt Disney Concert Hall, Los Angeles, California, United States of America. Tim Cheung/Unsplash

Unlike other architects featured in the exhibition – such as Coop Himmelblau, Rem Koolhaas and Daniel Libeskind – Gehry was not driven by a political or philosophical stance. Instead, he was interested in how people would react to the experience of architecture.

It was only after the Bilbao Guggenheim was completed that the world could see this vision.

Throughout the 2000s, Gehry completed a range of significant buildings, led by the Walt Disney Concert Hall (2003) in Los Angeles, which has a similar style to the Bilbao Guggenheim.

Gehry’s Museum of Pop Culture (2000) in Seattle is a composition of anodised purple, gold, silver and sky-blue forms, resembling the remnants of a smashed electric guitar.

Museum of Pop Culture, Seattle, Washington, United States of America. Getty Images

The Marqués de Riscal Vineyard Hotel (2006) in Elciego, Spain, features steel ribbons in Burgundy-pink and Verdelho-gold. The Louis Vuitton Foundation (2014) in Paris has 12 large glass sails, swirling around an “iceberg” of concrete panels.

Gehry only completed one building in Australia, the Dr Chau Chak Wing Building (2014) in Sydney. Its design, an undulating form clad in custom-made bricks, was inspired by a crumpled brown paper bag. Marge Simpson would have approved.

Recognition and reflection

The highest global honour an architect can receive is the Pritzker Prize, often called the “Nobel prize for architecture”. Gehry was awarded this prize in 1989, with the jury praising his “controversial, but always arresting body of work” which was “iconoclastic, rambunctious and impermanent”.

While the Pritzker Prize is often regarded as a capstone for a career, most of Gehry’s major works were completed after the award.

Tempranillo vines surround the hotel at Marqués de Riscal winery, Elciego, Spain. David Silverman/Getty Images

Gehry revelled in experimentation, taking artistic inspiration from complex natural forms and constructing them using advanced technology. Over the last three decades, his firm continued to produce architecture that was both strikingly sculptural and playfully whimsical.

He ultimately regretted appearing on The Simpsons, feeling it devalued the complex process he followed. His architecture was not random; an artist’s eye guided it, and a sculptor’s hand created it. It was not just any crumpled form, but the perfect one for each site and client.

He sometimes joked about completing his home in Santa Monica, even humorously ending his acceptance speech for the Pritzker Prize by saying he might use his prize money to do this. Today, on the corner of 22nd Street and Washington Avenue, partly shielded by trees, Gehry’s house remains forever a work in progress. Its uncompromising yet joyful presence has endured for almost 50 years.

Michael J. Ostwald, Professor of Architectural Analytics, UNSW Sydney

We Need to Stop Pretending AI is Intelligent – Here’s How

Giving AI a human face, voice or tone is a dangerous act of cross-dressing. It triggers an automatic response in us andromorphic reflex.

By Guillaume Thierry, Bangor University

We are constantly fed a version of AI that looks, sounds and acts suspiciously like us. It speaks in polished sentences, mimics emotions, expresses curiosity, claims to feel compassion, even dabbles in what it calls creativity.

But here’s the truth: it possesses none of those qualities. It is not human. And presenting it as if it were? That’s dangerous. Because it’s convincing. And nothing is more dangerous than a convincing illusion.

In particular, general artificial intelligence — the mythical kind of AI that supposedly mirrors human thought — is still science fiction, and it might well stay that way.

What we call AI today is nothing more than a statistical machine: a digital parrot regurgitating patterns mined from oceans of human data (the situation hasn’t changed much since it was discussed here five years ago). When it writes an answer to a question, it literally just guesses which letter and word will come next in a sequence – based on the data it’s been trained on.

This means AI has no understanding. No consciousness. No knowledge in any real, human sense. Just pure probability-driven, engineered brilliance — nothing more, and nothing less.

So why is a real “thinking” AI likely impossible? Because it’s bodiless. It has no senses, no flesh, no nerves, no pain, no pleasure. It doesn’t hunger, desire or fear. And because there is no cognition — not a shred — there’s a fundamental gap between the data it consumes (data born out of human feelings and experience) and what it can do with them.

Philosopher David Chalmers calls the mysterious mechanism underlying the relationship between our physical body and consciousness the “hard problem of consciousness”. Eminent scientists have recently hypothesised that consciousness actually emerges from the integration of internal, mental states with sensory representations (such as changes in heart rate, sweating and much more).

Given the paramount importance of the human senses and emotion for consciousness to “happen”, there is a profound and probably irreconcilable disconnect between general AI, the machine, and consciousness, a human phenomenon.

The master

Before you argue that AI programmers are human, let me stop you there. I know they’re human. That’s part of the problem. Would you entrust your deepest secrets, life decisions, emotional turmoil, to a computer programmer? Yet that’s exactly what people are doing — just ask Claude, GPT-4.5, Gemini … or, if you dare, Grok.

Giving AI a human face, voice or tone is a dangerous act of digital cross-dressing. It triggers an automatic response in us, an anthropomorphic reflex, leading to aberrant claims whereby some AIs are said to have passed the famous Turing test (which tests a machine’s ability to exhibit intelligent, human-like behaiour). But I believe that if AIs are passing the Turing test, we need to update the test.

The AI machine has no idea what it means to be human. It cannot offer genuine compassion, it cannot foresee your suffering, cannot intuit hidden motives or lies. It has no taste, no instinct, no inner compass. It is bereft of all the messy, charming complexity that makes us who we are.

More troubling still: AI has no goals of its own, no desires or ethics unless injected into its code. That means the true danger doesn’t lie in the machine, but in its master — the programmer, the corporation, the government. Still feel safe?

And please, don’t come at me with: “You’re too harsh! You’re not open to the possibilities!” Or worse: “That’s such a bleak view. My AI buddy calms me down when I’m anxious.”

Am I lacking enthusiasm? Hardly. I use AI every day. It’s the most powerful tool I’ve ever had. I can translate, summarise, visualise, code, debug, explore alternatives, analyse data — faster and better than I could ever dream to do it myself.

I’m in awe. But it is still a tool — nothing more, nothing less. And like every tool humans have ever invented, from stone axes and slingshots to quantum computing and atomic bombs, it can be used as a weapon. It will be used as a weapon.

Need a visual? Imagine falling in love with an intoxicating AI, like in the film Her. Now imagine it “decides” to leave you. What would you do to stop it? And to be clear: it won’t be the AI rejecting you. It’ll be the human or system behind it, wielding that tool become weapon to control your behaviour.

Removing the mask

So where am I going with this? We must stop giving AI human traits. My first interaction with GPT-3 rather seriously annoyed me. It pretended to be a person. It said it had feelings, ambitions, even consciousness.

That’s no longer the default behaviour, thankfully. But the style of interaction — the eerily natural flow of conversation — remains intact. And that, too, is convincing. Too convincing.

We need to de-anthropomorphise AI. Now. Strip it of its human mask. This should be easy. Companies could remove all reference to emotion, judgement or cognitive processing on the part of the AI. In particular, it should respond factually without ever saying “I”, or “I feel that”… or “I am curious”.

Will it happen? I doubt it. It reminds me of another warning we’ve ignored for over 20 years: “We need to cut CO₂ emissions.” Look where that got us. But we must warn big tech companies of the dangers associated with the humanisation of AIs. They are unlikely to play ball, but they should, especially if they are serious about developing more ethical AIs.

For now, this is what I do (because I too often get this eerie feeling that I am talking to a synthetic human when using ChatGPT or Claude): I instruct my AI not to address me by name. I ask it to call itself AI, to speak in the third person, and to avoid emotional or cognitive terms.

If I am using voice chat, I ask the AI to use a flat prosody and speak a bit like a robot. It is actually quite fun and keeps us both in our comfort zone.

Guillaume Thierry, Professor of Cognitive Neuroscience, Bangor University

Art Among the Olive Trees: Mougins is a Hilltop Haven of French History and Haute Cuisine

La Place de Mougins in the heart of the village is also a highly regarded restaurant in this region famed for its gastronomy. Cover picture and photograph above by Andrea Heinsohn for DAM.

Perched in the Provençal hills above Cannes, the village of Mougins has quietly become one of the French Riviera’s most remarkable cultural enclaves. Long favored by artists and intellectuals, this medieval town blends centuries-old architecture with an unexpectedly modern artistic pulse. With museums devoted to classical antiquities and contemporary women artists, a culinary legacy shaped by world-class chefs, and panoramic views that once inspired Picasso and Churchill alike, it offers a unique experience for travellers seeking more than sun and sand along the Côte d’Azur, writes Jeanne-Marie Cilento. Photography by Andrea Heinsohn 

Scents of lavender and rosemary fill the winding

streets once home to artists Picasso and Picabia.

ONLY a short drive from the cinematic dazzle of the French Riviera, the medieval village of Mougins seems another world away: steeped in ancient history, yet alive with the pulse of creativity. Here, amid the cypress and olive groves, Picasso once sketched at twilight, Francis Picabia painted with surreal abandon and Jean Cocteau wandered the spiraling lanes.

This sun-dappled commune in the French Alpes-Maritimes department is more than just a picturesque village; it has a resonant artistic legacy and has been a place of cultural refuge that once welcomed and still opens its arms to artists, actors and writers. While its roots stretch back to pre-Roman times, it’s the artistic migration of the 20th century that has etched Mougins into the global cultural map.

In 1924, the avant-garde surrealist Francis Picabia was among the first to fall under Mougins' spell. Drawn by the region’s light, space, and tranquil remove from the bustle of Paris, Picabia set up home in the old village, soon drawing an extraordinary constellation of friends and fellow artists into his orbit. Fernand Léger, Paul Éluard, Isadora Duncan, Man Ray, and Jean Cocteau were frequent visitors. Then came Pablo Picasso.

Amid the cypress and olive groves, Picasso once sketched at twilight, Francis Picabia painted with surreal abandon and Jean Cocteau wandered the spiraling lanes

The commanding sculpture of Pablo Picasso,

commemorating his life and work in the town,

From 1961 until 1973, Picasso lived just outside the village at Notre-Dame-de-Vie, a simple farmhouse beside a 12th-century chapel that looks out over forests and valleys. His studio, now the village’s tourist office, was a hub of activity and artistic output. Neighbors still recall the way he moved quietly through the village, seeking inspiration from the Provençal sun and the surrounding hills. 

Today, a giant sculpture commemorates his presence, but in truth, he never left, his spirit inhabits every sun-bleached stone and winding alley. The allure of Mougins also drew stars from haute couture to the silver screen, from Christian Dior and Yves Saint Laurent to Edith Piaf and Catherine Deneuve, who all walked its cobbled lanes.

Mougins' connection to modern art is not merely anecdotal; it is actively preserved and celebrated. The Mougins Museum of Classical Art (MACM) stands as a cornerstone of this cultural identity. With more than 800 pieces spanning the ancient to the contemporary, Graeco-Roman sculptures juxtaposed with works by Chagall, Matisse, Hirst, Cézanne, and of course, Picasso and Picabia, it is a museum that challenges the boundaries between epochs. 

The allure of Mougins drew stars from haute couture to the silver screen, from Christian Dior and Yves Saint Laurent to Catherine Deneuve and Sean Connery

The FAMM museum housed in a traditional building,

is devoted to women artists and is the first in Europe.

The museum is housed in a restored medieval building at the edge of the old village. It is intimate yet rich, organized across four floors that lead the visitor on a journey from Egyptian sarcophagi to neoclassical sketches, culminating in modern and contemporary interpretations of the classical form. The effect is to collapse time, allowing one to see the dialogue between artists across millennia.

Mougins' artistic reinvention continues with the recent opening of FAMM (Femme Artistes du Monde de Mougins) ~ a museum entirely dedicated to the works of women artists. It’s the first of its kind in Europe and already a major cultural landmark. Here, the canvases of Berthe Morisot hang beside the bold self-portraits of Frida Kahlo and contemporary expressions from Tracey Emin and Barbara Hepworth.

With its bright spaces and thoughtfully curated exhibitions, FAMM serves as both a correction and celebration: a platform to reframe the story of art through the eyes and voices of women who, like Picasso and Picabia, sought freedom and inspiration in these hills. It’s a poignant extension of Mougins' legacy as a creative refuge, now offering space for new generations of visionaries.

The village's artistic reinvention continues with the opening of FAMM, a museum dedicated to the works of women artists and the first of its kind in Europe 

Mougin's art scene is not only full of museums

but also, private galleries and public installations.

But the art of Mougins is not confined to its museums. It spills out into the cobblestone streets, into its many private galleries and public installations. Over 20 smaller art galleries are peppered throughout the village, offering everything from abstract sculpture to Provençal landscapes, all nestled within medieval architecture that adds an extra layer of charm.

And then there’s the Mougins Centre of Photography, set in a restored presbytery in the heart of the old village. Its rotating exhibitions highlight the evolving language of contemporary photography, presenting both emerging voices and established names. Just as the MACM draws lines from past to present, this centre ensures that Mougins remains deeply attuned to the shifting pulse of modern visual culture.

Each summer, the village hosts Mougins Monumental, an open-air exhibition of oversized sculptures installed throughout its plazas and hidden corners. This collision of the monumental with the intimate offers visitors a surprise around every corner, art not as something framed and distant, but something to live among.

Mougins Centre of Photography, in a restored presbytery in the heart of the old village, has shows highlighting contemporary photography

Mougins has a lively gastronomic community

of specialty shops and celebrated restaurants. 

If art is the soul of Mougins, then cuisine is its heart. The village’s culinary reputation was established in the 20th century by Roger Vergé, the charismatic chef who brought his “Cuisine du Soleil” to global attention. 

Light, fresh, and rooted in Mediterranean tradition, Vergé’s cooking redefined French gastronomy. His Michelin-starred restaurants, L’Amandier and Le Moulin de Mougins, attracted a star-studded clientele, from Elizabeth Taylor to Sharon Stone. 

Vergé’s influence still flavours the village. L’Amandier remains a landmark, housed in a building that once served as the medieval courthouse for the monks of Saint-Honorat. Today, its windows open to views of pine forests and tiled rooftops, while the kitchen serves dishes that celebrate local ingredients with sun-drenched simplicity. Alain Ducasse, another titan of French cuisine, honed his craft under Vergé here in the 1970s.

If art is the soul of Mougins, then cuisine is its heart. The village’s culinary reputation was established in the 20th century by Roger Vergé, 

To celebrate its culinary history, the town holds

a bi-annual festival that brings the world's greatest

chefs together. 

In honor of this culinary heritage, Mougins created Les Étoiles de Mougins, an international gastronomy festival first held in 2006. The festival brings together world-class chefs for demonstrations, tastings, and debates, turning the entire village into an open-air kitchen every two years. 

Since 2012, Mougins has held the exclusive title of “Ville et Métier d’Art” for gastronomy, a distinction no other French town shares.

While art and food may draw most modern visitors, the stones of Mougins carry the weight of centuries. From its early days as a Ligurian settlement to its medieval fortifications, the village has borne witness to empire and invasion. The town's roots run deep, archaeological finds indicate that the site was first occupied by Ligurian tribes long before the rise of the Roman Empire. 

Over the centuries, the elevated, spiral-shaped design proved a strategic advantage, built to withstand invasion, the medieval village was enclosed by ramparts with three main gates

The soaring 18th century bell-tower 

of the Saint Jaques-le-Majeur church

The Romans eventually established a settlement called Muginum along the ancient Via Aurelia, the road that once connected Rome to Arles. In the 11th century, the land was handed over to the monks of Saint Honorat, who governed the area from the island monastery just off Cannes. The vestiges of this monastic influence remain visible today in the village’s architecture, particularly in the vaulted “Salle des Moines,” now part of a renowned restaurant.

Over the centuries, Mougins’ elevated, spiral-shaped design proved a strategic advantage. Built to withstand invasion, the medieval village was enclosed by ramparts and accessed through three main gates, only one of which, the Porte Sarrazine, remains today. 

Though attacked and partially destroyed during the War of the Austrian Succession, Mougins gradually rebuilt, maintaining much of its circular medieval charm even as new streets were added in the 19th century.

A walk through the village reveals these architectural layers of this history. The Porte Sarrazine still stands as the sentinel of the old spiral-shaped fortress. The narrow streets echo with footsteps from every century, from monks who administered the town for the Abbey of Saint-Honorat to Napoleon himself, who passed through Mougins on his march north from Elba in 1815.

A plaque marks the modest house where Commandant Amédée-François Lamy, the French military figure who would give his name to the Chadian capital (now N’Djamena), was born in 1858. It is one of many small historical markers that lend the village its living yet historic character.

For those who venture beyond the bright lights of Cannes, Mougins offers something rare: a village where art, history, nature, and flavor converge in harmony

The pool of La Réserve by Mougins Luxury Retreats,

which has accommodations throughout the village. 

Mougins' hilltop location isn’t just strategic; it’s spectacular. The view over the Alps is uninterrupted and breathtaking. In the golden light of the late afternoon, the rooftops glow and the valleys turn to velvet.

It’s easy to see why Winston Churchill, a neighbor of Picasso’s, chose to write and paint here, often seated near the chapel of Notre-Dame-de-Vie, where silence reigns and olive trees sway like gentle muses.

Although there is a sense of quiet luxury ~ boutique hotels and curated shops now fill restored buildings ~ the village retains its spirit. It isn’t flashy or overrun. It welcomes, rather than dazzles. It charms rather than overwhelms.

For those who venture beyond the bright lights of Cannes, Mougins offers something rare: a village where art, history, nature, and flavor converge in harmony. 

It is a place where Picasso painted and dined, where Picabia laughed with friends, where sculptures rise from cobbles and perfumes scent the air from pressed flowers. It is a reminder that the Riviera’s soul lies not on the beach, but in the hills above. And in Mougins, that soul still whispers ~ through a shuttered window, from behind a canvas, across a sunlit terrace.

A pretty doorway with a solid

walnut door and stone steps.

Getting There: Mougins is a 15-minute drive from Cannes. The nearest airport is Nice Côte d’Azur, approximately 30 minutes by car.

When to Go: Spring and early autumn are ideal, with warm days and fewer tourists. Visit in June for the Gastronomy Festival or in summer for art events and music festivals.

Don’t Miss:

The Musée d’Art Classique de Mougins (MACM)

The FAMM Museum of Women Artists

A meal at L’Amandier

Sunset at Notre-Dame-de-Vie

Climbing the belltower of the Saint Jaques-le-Majeur church for the spectacular view across Provence to the sea, 

Tip: Take your time. Mougins isn’t a place to rush. It’s a place to wander, to linger, to let the village reveal itself, one spiral street, one delicious bite, one quiet moment at a time.