There is a particular pleasure in arriving somewhere by accident of geography. Antiparos sits just across a thin channel from Paros, a smaller, gentler sibling that most travellers reach almost as an afterthought on a short hop on a ferry from the little port at Pounta to a low whitewashed harbour rising out of the sea. For decades the island was a favourite of campers, sailors and a small Athenian intelligentsia. Then, slowly and without much announcement, a more international crowd began to follow: discreet villa owners, under-the-radar celebrities, an excellent generation of cooks and a handful of designers who restored old houses with feeling rather than fanfare. Antiparos changed, but only just; the trick of the place is that it absorbed all of it without losing its rhythm.
What you find now is one of the most considered small islands in the Cyclades. There is one main village, a handful of beaches you can reach by car in fifteen minutes, an ancient cave whose inner column predates almost every story ever told about it, and an uninhabited islet just off the south-west coast where archaeologists are still pulling a sanctuary of Apollo from the earth. The pace is slow because the island is small; the style is low-key because Antiparos has never felt the need to be otherwise. From our experience, it rewards travellers who like their luxury understated and always in good taste.








