If __ Wins the Election, I’m Moving To … . St. Barths

Tell your Facebook feed enough times that you’re leaving the country if that guy (or gal) gets elected and eventually, you’re going to have to put your passport where your mouth is. Well, you’re in luck: this is our new series on some of the world’s best expat destinations for dissatisfied Americans.

Territory of honor: Saint Barthélemy

In brief: Like a little lost slice of the South of France, St. Barths brings the motherland’s love of liberté, égalité and rosé to the Caribbean.

Chief language: French, as well as the international tongues of the yachting set (English, Russian).

Chief hassles: Internecine struggles between natives, sun-deprived Parisians and non-francophone interlopers. Also, Kardashians. Also, the world’s third-most dangerous airport.

Shack up here: Set aside a few mill (cash only, of course) for a villa, or test out the vibe at hyper-styled Le Sereno, from the same designer as our very own Mercer Hotel in Manhattan.

Toast your new life here: The Sand Bar (Get it?) at St. Jean Bay, with your feet in the water and your mitts wrapped around another glass of rosé. (Honestly, it’s ubiquitous. Don’t fight it.)

Immigration situation: No visa needed for stays under 90 days. If you’re looking to stay longer, get comfortable with a photocopier, notarized translations and inch-thick stacks of banking records: prove to the French that you can cover your yearlong stay — in cash, not investments — and they’ll probably permit you the pleasure of buying properties and otherwise on their land. If you need to work, lawyer up.