Somewhere in the Aegean Sea, where the sun melts into cobalt water and time takes its shoes off and wanders barefoot, there’s an island you’ve almost certainly never been to but will absolutely, wholeheartedly, want to. Folegandros. Even the name sounds like a spell or a perfume, or an old myth whispered under moonlight.

While everyone else is elbowing their way through the bougainvillea-strewn streets of Mykonos or lining up to capture that one overused Santorini sunset, Folegandros has been quietly doing its own dazzling thing, entirely unbothered, entirely untouched. It hasn’t tried to reinvent itself. It hasn’t built a beach club on every cove. Instead, it’s gone for cliffside villages, hidden beaches you can only reach by boat, and a vibe best described as if Greece could hug you back.

It’s only 32 square kilometres and home to about 700 people (including, we’re fairly sure, several impossibly photogenic goats). There are three storybook villages, including Chora, the capital, a pedestrian-only warren of whitewashed alleyways and courtyards so pretty they make postcards look apologetic.