Folegandros is one of the smallest islands in the Cyclades, little more than a lump of rock covered with terraced fields, sprinked with white-washed hamlets and fringed by coves tucked into the steeply raked coastline. There's no airport - you need to take a ferry from nearby Santorini, or from Athens (neither of which runs daily except in high season); and there's only one road to speak of (much better, if you want to explore, to hop on the round-the-island cruise which operates in summer).
What there is, in spades, is charm - that elusive, lazy, blindingly blue-and-white Greek charm sought out, usually in vain, by Shirley-Valentine and Mamma-Mia aficionados heading dutifully to Mykonos and Skopelos, only to find that they're 30 years too late. Folegandros fans might tell you you're a decade too late here, too, but we appreciate the recent changes: some gorgeous little hotels in the immaculately flower-strewn hora, a scattering of open-air tavernas serving surprisingly good seafood and wine, and the beginnings of a (very laid back, predominantly Athenian) party scene in July and August.