I’ve never thought of myself as the vacation type. My nature is restless; I organize, plan, clean, do. Doing much of nothing doesn’t come naturally. But for the last few years, I’ve been plagued by a kind of scrolling envy, watching people I know (and don’t) post their European holidays; sunlit afternoons, endless blue horizons, and above all, that crystalline Mediterranean Sea. I wanted to swim in that water. That was the goal this summer.
So, like seemingly everyone else on the planet, I packed up my son and met my brother and niece in Greece.
At first, it felt like a checklist: sunsets; check. Ocean swims; check. Grilled fish; check. Three days in and I was already wondering if it was time to go home. But then, somewhere between day four and five, something shifted. I began to soften. The rhythm of the island worked its way into me, and I could feel myself letting go even as I knew that re-entry would be brutal. And it was. I landed back in Paris only to get sick, as if my body couldn’t quite reconcile the sudden swing from serenity to schedule.
By the end of our ten days, I felt a quiet sadness at saying goodbye. Goodbye to summer, to the Aegean’s impossible blue, to the joy of watching my son fall in love with the sea as he snorkeled beside his uncle. Goodbye to the first holiday we shared as a family; days of doing nothing and yet feeling like everything.
I carried home gratitude. Gratitude for grilled fish and laughter, for long afternoons on the sand, for the reminder that stopping, even briefly, can make life’s colors sharper when you return.
A Few Favorites from Paros & Antiparos
Thalassamou (in the south, on the port): we ended our boat trip here and it was the best meal of the trip; fresh, simple, unforgettable.
Yrian Cruising: the boat trip itself was our highlight, moving from cove to cove, diving into that impossible blue. My son was in heaven. At the Blue Lagoon he spotted an octopus, which became his story of the summer.
Naoussa: The small town in the North- though too touristic for me, we did love Sigi Iltios, and a little further out, Siparos, which was excellent.
Parasporos Beach: the place I could have returned to every day. Reserve beds and lunch; it’s worth it.
If I could do it again, I would stay in Antiparos. It’s more my rhythm; slower, a little rustic, less polished. There, we had one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten at The Rooster, and then watched the sunset with friends at a simple spot aptly named Sunset.
September, of course, waits for no one. It is the busiest month in my calendar: shooting Resort 25, fitting Pre-Fall 26, selling Spring 25, while designing Fall 26. A collision of collections, exhausting and exhilarating in equal measure.
And yet, I feel ready. Paris already smells of autumn, and I can’t wait to start wearing Fall 25; those rich textures and saturated colors that feel like the wardrobe equivalent of a new beginning. Every season brings uncertainty, but also possibility.
My son started seventh grade this week and suddenly teetering on the edge of teenagerhood. A turning point for him, and for me. And just days after Greece, I had the joy of attending the wedding of Charles Porch and Robert Denning in Paris; three luminous days of celebration where I was reminded of the sheer pleasure of dressing up, of stepping fully into joy and of laughter with my dear old friends Jessica De Ruiter and her husband Jed Lind who attended from Toronto and of course my forever date Garance Dore.
