A flash of cheek, a smile and thirty years of shared adventures. Véro tells the story.
A true seasonal worker
I’m from Marseille, a seasonal worker at heart, and I had no reason whatsoever to stop in Saint-Raphaël. Ten winter seasons at Val Thorens, summers in Corsica – I had my rhythm and my bearings. And then Laurent, my best friend, called me one day in July 1999. He had just taken charge of the bar that Aurore had entirely redone. He was short of staff. “Come.” I wasn’t interested; at first I said no. Then he begged me. I agreed to July and August, no more.
Aurore n’était pas là à mon arrivée. Elle vivait à Paris, elle faisait des allers-retours. J’ai commencé à travailler sans l’avoir jamais vue. Et puis un matin, une femme passe derrière mon comptoir comme si elle était chez elle. Je lui dis sans réfléchir : « Ma grande, tu vas où, là ? » Elle se retourne, me regarde et dit : « Je suis Aurore Laroche. » Je ne m’attendais vraiment pas à ce petit bout de femme. Elle a souri : “You – I’m going to love you”, a-t-elle ajouté. Elle avait vu juste. L’aventure a commencé comme ça, sur une impudence et un sourire.
In September, I left, telling her that Saint-Raphaël really wasn’t my thing. She came to celebrate New Year’s Eve at Val Thorens with her whole family. She convinced me to come back. And I never left again.
Everywhere at once
What you have to understand about my work here is that I’m not behind a desk. I never knew how to do that. I’m on every front, at every hour: in the morning to check the stock at the shop, at the restaurant at midday to make sure the service holds up, at the mini-market at the end of the day, at the bar in the evening. The purchasing, the recruitment, the teams, the décor, the orders, the suppliers. Today, I oversee all of the campsite’s businesses: the two restaurants, the ice-cream parlour, the bar, the snack bar, the mini-market, the shop, the spa. I’m here from March to October.
That’s exactly what has kept me here for thirty years: the impossibility of being bored. When I took over the mini-market last year, I knew nothing about it. I did training courses, I threw myself in, and we exceeded our targets. Before that, the spa. Before that again, the nightclub. Each time, a new challenge, a new skill to acquire. Aurore has always given us that freedom – the freedom to grow, to try, to fail sometimes, and to start again. I know I can count on our trio: Aurore and Sabine are there, we help one another, we move in the same direction. A family spirit, truly.
At home, here
For several years, I did both seasons: winter at Val Thorens, summer at Esterel Caravaning. No holidays, no break. Two weeks at my parents’ between the two, and I’d carry straight on. At some point, you start asking yourself questions. You tell yourself that this isn’t what life is about. So I gave up the mountains. And I stayed in Saint-Raphaël, from opening to closing.
I have my apartment on the campsite. My husband – American, a photographer and DJ – does the season with me. He has become part of campsite life. Several times a week, he plays sessions at the bar, and the guests love it. Today, there are two of us who have found our place here.
Bali, the other life
From November to March, I’m in Bali. It’s not a luxury, it’s a necessity. After a whole season of running in every direction, of living twenty-four hours a day surrounded by people and noise, the break becomes essential. Bali is my pied-à-terre, my oxygen. I need that island to recharge and come back in good shape.
It’s there, too, that Aurore and I became true friends, beyond work. We have a great deal in common: the love of Bali, partying, décor, a taste for improbable adventures. We even set up a company together to have collections made. The jewellery did well. The clothes? We laughed a lot. Designing clothes is another story altogether!
In winter mode
But this adventure opened doors for us. It was through that Balinese network that we began working on the containers for the campsite – the furniture, the accessories, the decorative objects. My role during my winters in Bali was to go hunting: to find the stones for the jewellery, to track down the right artisans, to select the materials, to negotiate. The same eye, the same instincts, but applied to everything that would furnish Esterel Caravaning. Gérard had paved the way with Aurore on the furniture. We carried it on, broadened it, renewed it. Ever since, every object that passes through our gates has gone through our hands, somewhere between Bali and Saint-Raphaël.
Just between us
Aurore’s words
Thirty years. I don’t know where to begin. Véro is my friend. The one I work with, the one I live with, the one I share everything with: the laughter, the moments of happiness and the moments when life stops pretending to be simple. Together we have been through things we don’t talk about, because they belong to us. Funny things, so funny that we still cry laughing about them. And much darker things, where one of us held the other up. That’s what true friendship is – not the kind you show, the kind you live.
We have the same values, the same passions, the same outlook on life, the same character, which means we understand each other without explaining ourselves. The only thing we don’t share is sport. Every time she has tried to get me to follow her lead, it ended badly. I don’t know what that says about me.
Summing up thirty years in a few lines is impossible. So I’ll just say this: Véro can ask me for anything, at any moment of the day or night. She is a person for whom I would give everything, without hesitating, without counting the cost. What we share is love. Strong, strong, strong. I had already found a big sister in Calou, my cousin, the one who has always been there. And then Véro arrived. Two sisters that life gave me, that I hadn’t asked for, and without whom I would not be quite myself.
– Aurore
