The Christmas season has officially arrived, and Cannes is glowing. I decided to walk into town for a mulled wine and a few festive treats, letting the holiday spirit guide my steps. Every street seemed dressed for the occasion, proudly wearing its finest winter attire. Above me, delicate strands of lights were draped across the streets like lace—this year’s décor resembling a collage of white etchings stitched together and suspended in the air. Twinkling white and soft yellow lights shimmered overhead, creating a magical canopy.
Homes and apartment buildings joined the celebration, each adding their own personal flair. Terraces flickered with lights that blinked on and off or burst into bold colors all at once. Red, gold, and deep blue appeared to be this season’s favorites. On my own terrace, a row of multicolored lights waits patiently for the darkest evenings, flashing joyfully and unapologetically once night falls.
Every village that can hosts a Christmas market—it’s a beloved tradition—and this year I look forward to joining. I arrive at the Cannes Christmas Market on a sunny Sunday afternoon, greeted by cheerful crowds and the hum of excitement. Families with children fill the square, talk and laughter floating through the air. Brown wooden huts are clustered in long cozy semi-circles, and an ice-skating rink divides the market into two distinct worlds: one devoted to food, the other to handmade and artistic goods.
Each stall is festooned with bright colors, while the scents of a carnival swirl around us. I was instantly drawn to a familiar, irresistible aroma—something sweet, warm, and nostalgic. Churros. I watched as long strands of dough sizzled in popping oil, then disappeared under generous showers of white, fluffly sugar. The smell transported me straight back to childhood festivals and sticky-fingered joy. At the stand, the vendor added a hearty scoop of Nutella for dipping—buyer’s choice, of course. I happily placed my order and lingered, watching the crêpe maker next door work at lightning speed. With a line ten people long, it was clearly the most popular stop in the food section.
Being a French Christmas market, wine and champagne flowed freely. With churros in hand, I made my way to order a coupe of champagne for my partner and me. We found a picnic table among many scattered throughout the market, each filled with people indulging in raclette, burgers, deep fried calamari and other festive food and drink. We sat quietly, soaking it all in, sugar dusting our clothes and table as we enjoyed our prize. Families passed by with little ones in tow, couples wandered hand in hand, and even a few pets be-decked in Christmas attire followed along.
Once thoroughly infused with sugar, it was time to explore. We strolled past stalls filled with handcrafted goods and festive treasures, eventually stopping to watch the skaters at the ice-skating rink. Adults and children glided—or carefully shuffled—around the ice, slightly bent and determined to keep their balance.
Our final stop was the Palais des Festivals, where even more wonders awaited inside: rows of clothing, home goods, and holiday finds. After weaving through the bustling hall, we decided it was time to call it a day. We had reached our festive limit—enough sugar, champagne, Christmas cheer, and crowds to last until next year.
And with that, we left the market glowing just as brightly as the lights overhead, carrying a little bit of Christmas magic home with us.