By Aurélie St. Clair
There is a specific shade of blue that exists only in the Cyclades. It isn’t just a color; it’s a feeling of absolute suspension. This week, I traded the structured elegance of Monaco for the sun-drenched, winding parapets of Santorini. But while the world flocks to the main marble walkways, I found my solace in the quiet corners where the salt air meets centuries-old stone.
Privacy, as you know, is the ultimate luxury. I spent my mornings in Imerovigli, the “balcony of the Aegean.” Positioned at the highest point of the caldera edge, it offers a vantage point that feels almost spiritual. While the rest of the island sleeps, I found a small, unmarked path leading toward the Skaros Rock. There, with the wind catching my linen silk and the scent of wild thyme in the air, the world felt beautifully distant.
One afternoon, I ventured inland to Megalochori. This is the Santorini that remains untouched by time. Behind heavy wooden doors and high stone walls lie hidden courtyards filled with blooming bougainvillea. I spent hours lost in the labyrinthine alleys, discovering a small, family-run pottery studio where the craft has remained unchanged for generations. No cameras, no fanfare—just the tactile reality of clay and tradition.
“L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.”
(“What is essential is invisible to the eye.”)
As the sun began its descent, I avoided the crowded ruins of the Oia castle. Instead, I found a secluded terrace overlooking the Ammoudi Bay from above. As the light turned to liquid gold, hitting the whitewashed walls with a warmth that felt like a secret shared only between the sun and the sea, I was reminded why I travel. Not to be seen, but to disappear into the beauty of the world.
Some places stay with you. Others change the way you breathe.
À bientôt, Santorini. You’ve kept my secrets well.