Photography: Lara Blackwell

Among many things (fear, confusion, grief, all-out panic), the whole pandemic has no doubt ushered in moments of reflection. For me, that’s spanned myriad things, but an overriding feeling has been travel. The age-old platitude, absence makes the heart grow fonder couldn’t resonate more; every day, at some point in the day, I think about travels past. But I think about one place more than others: Greece. This has been compounded by the fact I was currently meant to be overseas; attending friend’s glamorous weddings, enjoying (then regretting) debauched 30th’s, seeing family and of course, just holidaying. I miss eating fried calamari, iced rosé (because it’s acceptable in Greece), the 200-year-old, family-run pharmacy with its polished joinery, its homemade lotions and potions and perfumes. I miss all of it. But with Covid robbing these plans, the inevitable lament set it.

This photoshoot represented the closest to Corinthian columns I’m going to get for a while.

People often ask me where my favourite place in Greece is, and for me, it’s an impossible question, forever changing. I have a close infinity to Ithaca, the island my grandmother came from, not only because it has a deeply personal connection but because it stands for everything typical Greek tourism doesn’t; there’s not a blue-and-white, rather lines of pine trees, white pebble beaches and green seas. But I am always drawn back to a little island called Hydra (pronounced I-thra). Its beaches are nowhere near the brilliant cyan of Anti Paxos, or crystalline, It’s a feeling. That same feeling lured creatives the world over, with Hydra somewhat of an artistic hotbed. Composers, musicism, painters, poets and fashion designers flock to this tiny isle for a reason difficult to quantify.

This is me in Hydra, dressed in Jacquemus, in my dreams. Hopefully, not to soon, they will be my reality. Until then, I’ll wait…

Photography Lara Blackwell
Photography Lara Blackwell