Rezé Unveiled: An Art Critic’s Guide to Nantes’ Most Stylish Neighbor
Darling, if you have come to this corner of France expecting the gilded flourishes of the Louvre, you are in the wrong department. But if you, like me, find a certain eroticism in raw concrete and the way a perfectly shucked oyster mirrors the gray-blue hues of the Loire, then welcome to Rezé. Coming from Haarlem, I am used to things being old, flat, and sensible. Rezé is none of those things. It is the rebellious, artistic sibling of Nantes, sitting just across the river with its paint-splattered boots and a history that stretches back to the Romans.
Grab your oversized glasses and a sensible scarf. We are going on a journey through a single day in this "vertical village" and its surrounding secrets. Wear comfortable shoes; we are looking at art, not walking a runway, though I expect you to look fabulous regardless.
The Morning: Concrete Poetry and Caffeine
We begin our morning at the Maison Radieuse. Now, don't make that face. I know it looks like a giant concrete filing cabinet from the outside, but this is Le Corbusier’s masterpiece. As an art critic, I insist you look past the Brutalism. Built in the mid-1950s, this is one of only five "Unités d'Habitation" in the world. It was designed as a "machine for living," and frankly, I wish my apartment in Haarlem functioned half as well as this vertical city.
Note that you cannot just wander into people's living rooms, tempting as it is to critique their mid-century modern furniture. You must book a guided tour through the Nantes Tourism office in advance. They usually run on Wednesday and Saturday mornings. If you miss the tour, the park surrounding it is still worth a stroll to admire the "pilotis"—those giant concrete stilts that hold the whole thing up.
After we have argued about whether Brutalism is "honest" or just "aggressive," we need coffee. Head a few blocks over to a local boulangerie and look for anything involving salted butter. We are in the Pays de la Loire, darling; if your heart doesn't skip a beat from the cholesterol, you aren't doing it right. I prefer a simple black coffee—strong enough to wake up my critical faculties—and a croissant that shatters like a broken promise when you bite into it.
Late Morning: Digging into Ratiatum
Next, we head to Le Chronographe. This is not your grandmother's dusty archaeological museum; it is a sleek, contemporary space built right on top of an active archaeological site. Before Rezé was Rezé, it was Ratiatum, a major Roman port. The museum does a brilliant job of showing how the ancient world intersects with the modern. The architecture of the building itself is a work of art—all sharp angles and wood that smells of intellectual ambition.
This site provides the cultural context for the entire region. You’ll see how the Romans lived here, their pottery, and their trade routes. For an art lover, the Roman glass fragments are particularly inspiring—the colors are surprisingly vibrant after two millennia underground. It’s a reminder that beauty is resilient, even if empires are not.
Midday: The Kaleidoscope of Trentemoult
By now, the sun should be high enough to illuminate our next stop: Trentemoult. This was once a traditional fishing village, but it has since been colonized by artists, dreamers, and people who aren't afraid of the color fuchsia. The houses here are painted in every shade of the rainbow—a local tradition started by fishermen who used leftover paint from their boats to brighten their homes.
This is the perfect place for a "healthy" lunch. And by healthy, I mean oysters. We are looking for a spot overlooking the Loire. The oysters here are briny, fresh, and served with that wonderful rye bread and salted butter. If you’re feeling particularly Dutch, you might miss the herring, but one bite of a local Fine de Claire oyster and you’ll forget Haarlem even exists. For the main course, look for a "Salade Folle" or anything featuring fresh fish from the river. It’s light, vibrant, and won’t make you want to nap when we should be looking at books.
The Afternoon: Art, Ink, and Equestrian Echoes
After lunch, we wander. Trentemoult is a labyrinth of tiny alleys where you’ll find hidden gardens and small artist studios. Keep an eye out for local galleries tucked behind ivy-covered walls. There is a strong community of contemporary ceramicists and painters here. Unlike the stuffy galleries in Paris, the artists here will actually talk to you without checking your bank balance first.
We must find a bookstore. I have a weakness for independent shops that smell of old paper and new ideas. Look for La Case des Pins or similar local kiosks. I’m looking for a monograph on French landscape painting or perhaps a quirky graphic novel—the French are the masters of the "bande dessinée," after all. It’s art you can carry in your bag.
If you see people riding horses along the river paths toward the outskirts of the town, don't be surprised. Rezé has a surprisingly leafy, pastoral side. While we won't be saddling up today—I find it difficult to maintain my dignity in breeches—the sight of a horse silhouetted against the Loire is a living painting that even the most cynical critic would appreciate.
Evening: Sunset and Reflection
As the light begins to turn that delicious honey-gold color, we make our way back toward the riverbank. The view of Nantes across the water as the city lights begin to flicker on is breathtaking. It’s the best time to reflect on the day. We’ve moved from the rigid, functional beauty of Le Corbusier to the chaotic, colorful joy of Trentemoult, with a stop in the Roman Empire in between.
For dinner, we stay in Rezé. Avoid the tourist traps; we want a bistro that focuses on seasonal ingredients. I’m looking for something with roasted root vegetables, perhaps some goat cheese from a nearby farm, and a glass of Muscadet—the local white wine. It’s crisp, acidic, and cuts through the richness of the day perfectly.
To get back to Nantes, take the Navibus. It’s a public transit boat that costs the price of a bus ticket, but it feels like a private cruise. Standing on the deck, feeling the wind in your hair as you leave the colorful houses of Trentemoult behind, is the only way to end an art-filled day. It’s cinematic, it’s practical, and it’s very, very Inna. Now, let's go. That concrete isn't going to admire itself, and those oysters are calling my name.