Why should I go? Forget a weekend in Nice, which is still being torn to shreds by town planners and plagued by closures (including the Matisse Museum, until June), and opt instead for this self-contained little bay to the east, a dent in the Côte d’Azur just before the promontory of Cap Ferrat. What Villefranche-sur-Mer has, against all the odds, is soul. Imagine a Portofino that hasn’t yet been Chaneled and Guccied to death, where you can still buy fish from the fisherfolk on the seafront and eat reasonably priced meals, and where there are genuine locals, not just cash-flash expats.

Why against the odds? Well, Villefranche has had at least two bursts of celebrity notoriety. The first began in the 1920s, when the poet, artist and film-maker Jean Cocteau made it his base and muse (he filmed Orphée here). He was drawn, like everyone else, by the combination of lovely, unspoilt front, blue sea, marvellous climate — and, in his case, a surfeit of big, butch sailor boys. Errol Flynn used to drop anchor here for similar reasons.

Then, in the 1970s, the Rolling Stones brought their rock’n’roll circus to town to record parts of Exile on Main Street. As well as Keef and co, the likes of William Burroughs and Gram Parsons strolled these cobbled streets when they weren’t hanging out at the Villa Nellcote. It still attracts A-listers — Tina Turner lives here, and U2, John Travolta and Lance Armstrong have been spotted in the fancier eateries — but somehow, unlike many of its Côte d’Azur neighbours, Villefranche simply takes them in its stride.

Where should I stay? The best address in town is Cocteau’s old haunt, the Welcome Hotel (3 Quai de l’Amiral Courbet; 00 33-4 93 76 27 62, www.welcomehotel.com), which really does live up to its name. Rooms are simple, but you will insist, of course, on one with a balcony and sea view, so you can while away a portion of your weekend watching the comings and goings along the front. Rooms start at £98; breakfast is £8 extra. Some say it is overpriced for what it is, but you must remember where it is (location, location, etc) and what it once was (the pictures in the lobby of Picasso, Kiki and others tell that story). There’s no restaurant, but a good wine bar on the ground floor. Where should I eat? La Mãre Germaine (04 93 01 71 39) is the most famous, atmospheric, reliable and pricey of the seafood joints that line the front. If you are on a budget, the bill at L’Oursin Bleu (04 93 01 90 12), which also serves a decent bouillabaisse, will be less intimidating, although not by much. Carpaccio (Promenade des Mariniãres; 04 93 01 72 97) draws the gold-chain-and-black-Amex crowd in summer, but is relatively reasonably priced, considering Bono and crew eat there, and as well as delicious raw slivers of beef, bresaola, squid and octopus, you can simply have a pizza.

I prefer more relaxed places such as Michel’s (Place Amelie Pollonnais; 04 93 76 73 24), up on the square, and its more workaday neighbour Le Cosmo Bar (04 93 01 84 05). Both do a good salade niçoise, with the former serving an excellent fish soup. Up in the old town, along Rue du Poilu, a variety of hole-in-the-wall eateries provides Provençal and Niçoise specials: see what is on the board of Café des Délices, at number 15 (04 93 76 60 91).

When the cruise ships come in to take advantage of Villefranche’s deep anchorage, you can escape the (temporary) crowds by walking around the base of the citadel to Port de la Darse and having a salad and omelette at the alfresco Baleine Joyeuse (06 22 28 09 57), on the harbour’s edge. Good for Sunday lunch, but get there early.

What should I do? Villefranche is not overburdened with attractions — something of an attraction in itself. Don’t miss the 14th-century Chapelle St-Pierre des Pêcheurs, which Cocteau managed to wrestle (possibly literally) from the local fishermen who once used it to store their nets. In 1957, he decorated every inch of it in his inimitable style, with scenes of St Peter, local gypsies and fishergirls. Tiny though the place is, the impact is quite dazzling when you first step inside.

Legend has it that Anita Pallenberg took shelter in the town’s other church, the handsome Italianate Eglise St-Michel, when the excesses at the Villa Nellcote became too much for her. Make sure you walk down the covered Rue Obscure, the spooky setting for Cocteau’s Orphée and long the town’s shelter against bombardment, right up until the second world war.

The town’s massive citadel is home to a number of small museums, as well as the town hall, and hosts cinema and theatre shows during the summer season. There is a small Provençal market in the new town on Saturday mornings, and an antiques/ bric-a-brac market on the square on Sunday mornings.

At the eastern end of the bay is a small shale beach with safe swimming for children and none of that beach-club nonsense popular elsewhere.

For me, there is enough within Villefranche to keep me happy for an instant weekend. Should you feel the urge, though, there are frequent trains that will whisk you to Nice (10 minutes), for a stroll in the old town and the flower market; or, in less than half an hour, the opposite way to the genteel gardens of Menton (and a Cocteau museum) or the gaudier pleasures of Monte Carlo.

Or you could just sit on your balcony at the Welcome with a glass of Côtes de Provence and watch this little world go by.

How do I get there? The nearest airport is Nice, served by British Airways (0870 850 9850, www.ba.com ) from Heathrow; EasyJet (www.easyjet.com ) from Gatwick, Luton, Stansted, Belfast, Bristol and Liverpool; and BMI Baby (0871 224 0224, www.bmibaby.com ) from Birmingham. Returns start at £50. A cab to Villefranche costs about £35; or take a bus to Nice station, then a train (£6 each way).

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