We keep on going back to La Baule—just for the day, of course, since we don’t exactly own a sea-view house in this posh white sand paradise. But it’s hot, it’s sunny, La Baule is the closest beach to Nantes, and many trains run between the two cities.

So I learned a thing or two about the fascinating life of upper-class La Baule residents and their extended family who visit them in the summer.

La Baule people hate low tide

I check the train schedule and the weather when we go to La Baule, not the tide chart. We typically take the 11:09 train and get there just before noon—sometimes the tide goes up, sometimes the tide goes down. I’m okay either way. In fact, I find the landscape is quite amazing when the tide is very, very low.

But La Baule people don’t bother going to the beach when the tide is low. It’s a big no no for mysterious reasons—I mean, most of them don’t even go for a dip.

No t-shirt = hefty fine

Linguistically questionable “well dressed required” signs are posted everywhere, and the police love handing out fines to whoever dares to step out of the sand without a t-shirt on.

I saw a girl getting fined for going around in shorts and a swimsuit top. She found it hilarious, but still, it’s a €150 fine…

La Baule people hide and send the police when out-of-towners come over

In the summer, La Baule is no longer an exclusive resort. Plenty of people figured out that taking the train is cheap and easy, including teens from Nantes’ less affluent suburbs.

Which is why La Baule felt the need to post five to ten police officers right down the main avenue that goes from the train station to the beach.

Meanwhile, locals go to the beach early in the morning and late in the afternoon to avoid seeing Black people, women wearing a hijab and other terrible stuff they saw on TV.

La Baule people love old-style games

They play the nine-pin skittle game (with wooden skittles, of course), and when the tide is up, they go sailing. Yes, on their own boat, obviously.

La Baule people don’t eat like the rest of us

They never, ever eat a sandwich on the beach like the rest of us—they go home, metres from the beach, and enjoy a proper French meal with wine.

They don’t seem to go to the supermarket either. There’s only a small Carrefour City close to the train station, handy for us, the plebs, but definitely not big enough to supply the entire city.

Where do they shop? What do they cook? It’s a complete mystery. Most of them are very, very thin. Maybe they just don’t eat.

Locals constantly give out-of-towners the La Baule once-over

You can stare at a lot in La Baule if you’re not one of them. They know. They know you took the train; they know you’re not one of them. It’s actually funny. It’s like they know instinctively how much you make, what your family’s net worth is, and whether your great-great-grandfather knew their great-great-grandfather.

La Baule cultivates the “good old days” atmosphere

Locals dress conservatively, in white or navy blue, the same colours as the old-style beach huts (don’t ever think of stepping in; locals bought the right to use them three generations ago). Everything feels very retro, from storefront signs to advertisement posters.

Clearly, it was better before… before what, exactly? The revolution? The end of slavery?

Trust me, La Baule is a fascinating place to study the French bourgeoisie!