The palace high up on the hill looks down on the cars as they fly around the tight little track below, indulging Formula 1 and trading off it too, the bringing together of two fairytale lives. The image and profile of these two entities - Monte Carlo and F1 - mark them as heroic glamour survivors in a toned-down age, when men no longer walk the moon and Concorde no longer flies, an age when 'jet set' can otherwise only be used with an ironic post-modern raised eyebrow.
But Monaco and F1, they're full-fat jet set, aren't they? Their annual coupling, greased by money, recharges the batteries of each, adds lustre to the respective images.
Graham Hill (BRM P261) 1965 Grand Prix of Monaco © LAT
When 'Mr Monaco' Graham Hill took his fifth and final victory around here, Neil Armstrong was just a couple of months from taking that historic first step. Look at any F1 picture of that time and it's clear that the sport was so in tune with those wondrous times when anything seemed possible - indeed seemed likely.
The cars had recently sprouted wings and were being painted in ever more lurid colours, going around the tracks at ever more outrageous speeds. The hair of the drivers was growing longer, emphasising their pirate credentials, followers of no rules other than their own in keeping with a generation in general that had begun to question things and reject previously accepted social mores. Everything was up for grabs in this rocket-powered, wild-coloured age where the doors of perception really did seem to be opening.