Cédric Grolet: When Luxury Means Waiting
Edouard Amoiel
01 août 2026
One morning at 9:10 a.m., I went to the pastry shop Cédric Grolet’s’s pastry shop, in the heart of Saint-Tropez. My goal is simple: to buy a cake for my son, who is as much of a sweet tooth as he is a foodie, and who can’t wait to dig in. The shop opened ten minutes earlier.
A nightclub… by day
In front of the entrance, barriers, ropes, and a receptionist—who is, incidentally, smiling—screen visitors. The scene is more reminiscent of the entrance to a nightclub than that of a pastry shop. Inside, there are three customers. Behind the counter, two young employees are bustling about energetically. They serve customers, pack orders, and respond to them with a smile. They’re doing the best they can, and it’s clear that they aren’t the focus of this column. The subject is elsewhere.
Outside, about fifteen people are already waiting. If a team is overwhelmed, I’ve never minded waiting. That’s often the price of success. On the other hand, waiting because an organization seems to have made that wait a part of the experience leaves me much more perplexed.
Pastry for… 18 euros
In recent years, part of the luxury industry seems to have turned waiting into a full-fledged marketing tool. The longer the line, the more desirable the product appears. The more restricted access is, the more exclusive the experience seems. It’s as if the act of waiting or desiring a product increases its perceived value. You know me… I don’t buy into that idea.
The price of 18 euros for a cake includes more than just its size or quality. It includes an experience that lives up to expectations. A seamless process. Consideration for the customer’s time. A few minutes later, we head out. Not because we’re impatient. By choice—and perhaps as a form of protest…
A few streets down, we walk into the bakery Les Deux Frères. Behind the counter, four or five people are serving customers nonstop. Orders come one after another, as do the smiles, and everyone leaves within moments. The comparison, of course, isn’t about the products. It’s about the way they welcome customers.
Refined Luxury
Cédric Grolet’s boutique in Saint-Tropez is operated in partnership with the Les Airellesgroup, a company renowned for its presence in the luxury hospitality sector. It is precisely for this reason that this experience raises questions for me. Given that we know demand will be high throughout the summer season, why not adjust staffing levels accordingly? Why let fifteen people wait outside when two employees—no matter how dedicated they may be—simply cannot handle such a large volume of customers? Isn’t true luxury precisely about saving customers time rather than making them waste it?
So what bothers me isn’t the success of this establishment. I understand that perfectly well. What puzzles me is the organizational approach that goes along with it. Saint-Tropez is often portrayed as a stage for appearances. Yet anyone who truly knows the village knows that it’s also built on a culture of hospitality, on shopkeepers who know their regulars, and on a certain simplicity behind the prestige. That’s the kind of luxury I love—a luxury that welcomes rather than excludes. A luxury that simplifies rather than complicates. A luxury that recognizes that the customer’s time is just as valuable as the product they’ve just purchased.
(Un)distinguished Welcome
By turning certain stores into settings where waiting becomes a marketing tool, we sometimes end up losing sight of what really matters. After all, a great store isn’t defined solely by what it sells. It’s also defined by its art of welcoming guests—and that, ultimately, is where true hospitality begins.
