Why Nice is great in winter: With sapphire blue skies, affordable hotels and cozy restaurants, the chic French city is perfect for a rejuvenating escape without the crowds

Near the coast of Nice there is a small shop that sells vintage postcards. Most feature sunbathing beauties, but the older, black and white examples show over-coated figures looking out at an empty beach.

These are the winter visitors, the hivernants – after ‘hiver’, the French word for winter – and many of them were British, hence the name of Nice beach: the Promenade des Anglais.

From the 1860s to the 1930s, the high season on the Riviera was from November to April. It was thought that various physical and psychological ailments could be alleviated by the mild winter climate, the bracing sea air and the high blue sky. This was the ideal antidote to the ‘dark satanic mills’ of Victorian British cities.

After visiting Nice in the summer, I thought it was time to get a taste of the winter experience. Of course the hivernants went by train, the most famous being the Train Bleu sleeping car from Paris, which was so widely used by the British that breakfast in the dining car consisted of eggs and bacon.

Today, the sleek Eurostar lives up to expectations and upon arrival in Paris, the metro (much more glamorous than the metro) is great for the transfer from Gare du Nord to the south-facing Gare de Lyon. Although the train has long since stopped running, the gilded Train Bleu restaurant in the station beckons, with its frescoes depicting heavenly scenes from the Riviera.

Then it’s the TGV for a quick transfer to Nice. Even in standard class you have a spacious seat and there is a buffet car where you can eat a croque monsieur, drink wine and gaze out of the cinema windows. You only realize the speed of the train as it travels along a road – twice as fast as the cars. But they slow down as they reach the Riviera coast, and you approach Nice just as the sky turns pink over the Mediterranean.

My hotel, the three-star Villa Rivoli, was built especially for the hivernants in the 1890s. It is located a minute from the sea, cozy and quiet, with rooms with marble fireplaces and retro fabric wallpaper.

Before dinner there was time for a walk. In winter, the palm trees along the Promenade are shrouded in fairytale lights that contrast beautifully with the dark blue night sky. The waves foam more than in summer, and the sea seems louder – perhaps because there are only a few dozen people at the Prom, rather than thousands.

Outdoors all year round: ‘In winter, hardy people still dine outside,’ reveals Andrew. Above, diners sit outside a restaurant in Nice on a December day

In a small shop near Nice’s seafront, Andrew browses vintage postcards showing British holidaymakers on the Promenade des Anglais (above)

I sat down on a bench overlooking the sea to smoke a cigar. Nearby, a Frenchman did the same. When he discovered my nationality, he said, “Ten today – better tomorrow.” I thought he was telling me how many cigars he had smoked, but it turned out he was talking about the temperature. We started talking and I said I would like to retire in Nice. “Oh, but you’re clearly not old enough,” he said. Charming guy.

It was a novelty to walk through the pastel-colored labyrinth of the old city without constantly having to step aside from people. In winter you have an entire alley or a small square to yourself. On the main square, Cours Saleya, the restaurant terraces are full in summer, but hardy types still dine outside in winter, when prices are lower (although the big winter savings are on accommodation). In the unpretentious, blue-painted interior of La Cambuse, one of the smallest and oldest restaurants, I ate mussels and spaghetti – which seemed appropriate, since Nice was part of Italy until 1860.

The next morning was bright blue. During my walk I came across the cigar smoker again. He gestured to a lighted display outside a pharmacy. It gave the temperature: 11C.

“It was a novelty to walk through the pastel labyrinth of the old town (pictured) without having to constantly step aside from people,” writes Andrew

“The waves are foaming more than in summer, and the sea seems louder,” Andrew notes. Above, tourists pose on the city’s beach

You realize, in the quiet of winter, that Nice is an inherently old-fashioned place, with all the palaces and villas in the flamboyant Belle Epoque style of the late 19th century, the sleepy antique shops, the soft sound of the tram bells.

As you climb the steps of Castle Hill, on the west side of the Bay of Nice, the city lies beneath you.

Even in winter it looks warm: after all, the palms are evergreen, the sky and the sea are just as blue as in summer – and the orange trees in the streets bear their fruit in winter.

There are also orange trees in the winter garden of the Musee Massena on the Promenade, whose marble rooms contain posters and photographs from the hivernant era. Those days are also evoked in the Musee des Beaux Arts, a little way inland. I recommend the rooms with the paintings of Raoul Dufy, who lived in Nice. In wintry blues he obsessively painted the domed Casino, which stood on a short pier from 1891 to 1942 and was a social center for the hivernants.

Andrew visits the Musee Massena (pictured) on the Promenade des Anglais and notices the orange trees in the winter garden

I encountered one other person in those rooms. “Bonnejournee,” he said before leaving. Such small, civilized exchanges are a regular feature of Nice in winter.

That evening I repeated the seafood and pasta theme – this time with squid at Le Bistrot d’Antoine, a cozy, rustic-looking spot in the old town. It was packed, even though the surrounding streets were quiet. This meal, like the previous evening’s, was excellent – ​​both were around £30, with wine.

No winter visit to Nice would be complete without a walk north uphill from the train station towards the Cimiez district.

Here you can see the former hotels where the hivers lived. On a sunny winter day, their graceful white plasterwork still sparkles against the blue sky. But they are now luxury apartments with hair salons, pharmacies and banks on the ground floor.

Their older, well-preserved residents, in their custom-made cashmere coats, live a life in the heat. It doesn’t seem to hurt them.