“Of all the islands of the Aegean Sea, Pholygandros can boast of the most majestic coastline,” James Bent wrote in his 1885 book, The Cyclades. “In fact, I doubt if it can be equalled anywhere.”

Windswept and rocky, this South Aegean Shetland-with-sunshine is raw and bling-free, and it barely causes a blip on the radar of the MykonosIbizaSt. Tropez set. There are more churches—somewhere around 70—than cocktail bars. No discotheques, no recognizable brands or Michelin stars, and no chain hotels. A local law bans rental beach chairs on the pebbly sand to discourage clubs from attracting the wrong sort of visitors.

Livadaki Beach feels allergic to crowds.

Folegandros’s compact but heavy-hitting topography is what makes it special; there’s glamour in its remoteness, and stillness in its hot winds and Homeric waters. Its general inaccessibility is another virtue. While some travelers arrive by private, hour-long speedboat transfers from Santorini, most take ferries from other Greek islands or in a four-hour journey from Athens.

Long before the French, Americans, and Australians (or the Sarkozys,
Wilson-Hankses, and Robbie-Ackerlys) started coming to Folegandros, the Venetians conquered it. Admiral Marco Sanudo arrived in 1207 and built the magnificent castle at Chora in 1210. Folegandros remained under Venetian rule until 1566, when it was taken by Ottoman Turks. The Greeks reclaimed the island in the 19th century during the Greek War of Independence.

Low-key dining at O Kritikos, in Chora.

Today it’s an ideal place for a warm-weather vacation. There’s no need to rent a car. Visitors (including Margot Robbie, who wheeled her own luggage off the ferry last summer) arrive at the Karavostasis terminal at the southern end of the island. From there, Agios Georgios Beach, its northernmost point, is just eight miles away, and the entire island is easily accessed by taxis (traditional and water).

From the elevated, whitewashed, cliff-hanging vantage point of Chora (pronounced ”hor-ah”), almost all of Folegandros is visible. It will be delightfully evident that renting a zippy scooter or a quad bike is the most joyful way to explore a landmass that is just 12 square miles, has only 650 registered inhabitants, three villages, and, really, just one decent road.

From ocean to plate: the catch of the day at Papalagi restaurant.

Hang a left at the bendy thrill ride’s halfway point, head down a dirt road to Agkali, and park your Piaggio portside. After a beach-facing breakfast of Greek yogurt and loukoumades doughnuts on the Blue Sand hotel’s cool veranda, pay $14 for a round-trip fare on the water taxi. It will whisk you off to an idyllic morning swim at the wild and car-inaccessible Katergo Beach.

This is where the Sarkozys took a dip last July, Carla Instagramming her against a backdrop of sheer-sided cliffs and Tanqueray-blue water. Then—at, shall we say, 2:30 or 3?—hail another boat to the neighboring cove for a lazy, breezy seafood lunch at Papalagi, high up above the Agios Nikolaos Beach with views of Homer’s sparkling, crystal-clear water.

Irini’s is a grocery store, mini-market, café, and tavern all at once.

Dry off, saddle up, and twist the throttle uphill again, enjoying the evening’s ambient hot air-conditioning blasting through your hair. At the top, turn right, aim for Chora again, and get ice cream at Gelateria Lo Zio. (Tom Hanks, the self-anointed “Unofficial Greek Citizen” and husband of Rita Wilson, who is of Greek origin, has called it “the best ice cream I have ever had in Greece.”)

The new Gundari hotel is luxurious but still devoid of bling.

Now, with zuppa Inglese cone in hand, begin a steep and zigzagging (but well worth it) 15-minute walk or quick taxi ride to one of the world’s greatest sunsets at the 17th-century Church of Panagia. Then it’s back on the scooter and downhill for dinner in the hamlet of Ano Meria. Population: 350 souls and around a dozen very sweet donkeys.

There are at least six great places to eat. Try the goat matsata (local pasta) and orange cake at Irini’s, a charming taverna inside a white-and-blue jewel box of a general store, or pick up a world-class pizza at Paulo and Flavia’s Pane e Vino Italian, on a dirt track just up the road. Pizza? Gelato? Pasta? On a tiny Cyclades archipelago? Fysiká!

Simon Mills is an editor at Wallpaper* and a writer at The Times of London