Eleven years in the making, Villa Constance is less a house than a piece of the hillside that learned to hold a family. From the coastal road it cannot be seen; from the water it reads only as rock. Inside, six hundred and forty square metres unfold in pale Burgundy stone, lit by concealed light wells that move the sun through the rooms across the day.
The accommodation is arranged over three levels cut into the cliff: a principal salon and kitchen at the entrance level, four sea-facing bedroom suites below, and a self-contained guest and staff floor beneath that. The infinity terrace appears to end at the horizon. There is no marble and no gilding — only oak that will silver, brass that will darken, and stone chosen for how it ages.
The villa featured in our Côte d'Azur report, "The house that learned to disappear." It is offered quietly, by introduction only.
