Celebrities and Artists Flock to this Spanish Island off the Coast of Spain—Now It’s Getting More Luxury Hotels

I hid beneath a Berber camel-hair tent on the beach, to shield myself from the scorching Mediterranean sun. Next to me was a young Atlantan woman who was typing out poetry on an old typewriter. She asked me for a word—the first that popped into my head—to add to her psychic verse. A German healer, dressed in a backless goddess gown with no tan marks, was nearby talking about breathwork. An artist in a crocheted bikini came by and sought help dragging a large metal sign that read, “SAVE ME,” into the sea.

I laughed, for without ever standing up I had discovered the essence of Formentera—a pristine island four miles south of Ibiza It has a bohemian feel from a bygone era. It does not have megaclubs in the style of Ibiza. Instead, it has sand-dunes, pine forests and quiet coves. The stiletto shape of craggy rocks is at the southernmost tip of the Balearic Islands chain. In the last five decades, it has been a social haven for artists and musicians, as well as fashionable eccentrics and other vacationing visionaries, due to its geographical isolation. 

The 1960s were the first decade to see hippies. Bob Dylan slept in a windmill, according to legend. Pink Floyd spent extended periods in the island and the band featured the eerie windmill image on its soundtrack. More, Barbet Schroeder’s 1969 film, about the hippie heroin scene. Partly filmed in the island. Joni Mitchell fleeing Los Angeles fame, she stopped on the island during a European sabbatical that inspired her 1971 record. Blue. The design crowd came next and built chic beach escapes: they included Consuelo Castiglioni, the founder of Marni, and Philippe Starck, the French architect.

Starck told a French style magazine in 2023 that Formentera is “a paradise in central Europe.” Starck owned a cliffside residence on the island for 30 years. It’s like a small boat in the middle the ocean. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful; I’ve never seen anything rarer.” 

Starck was right as I sat under the Berber Tent. Can 7, A private residence and artists’ residency on Platja de Migjorn beach, on the southern shore of the island. The Mediterranean beaches were crowded with people during peak summer. But I encountered hardly any tourists, apart from a few nude sunbathers splashing around in the calm and buoyant sea. 

As it was early evening I decided to swim myself before dinner. I felt a sense of calm and relaxation as I dove into the water. I first thought the hippie-healer vibe of Can 7 had rubbed on me. It turns out that I was swimming through an aquatic meadow made up of Posidonia Seagrass, which has been declared a protected area. UNESCO World Heritage site—some of it is thought to be 100,000 years old. The thick, long strands filter the water, giving it a magical glow. 

The land is equally as primordial—a pinkish dirt so desiccated it made me thirsty just looking at it. Look deeper, however, and you’ll see that the mineral-rich earth almost has a jewel-like shine, with shades such as rose, coral and ocher. It’s also possible to find history in every corner. You can see remnants of ancient civilizations as you drive around the island: ancient figs propped up on wooden crutches, windmills built centuries ago that look like antique flyswatters and stone walls constructed by the Moors in the Middle Ages which still look brand new. 

Formentera was a popular day trip destination for Ibiza residents and private yacht owners. Typically, they stayed on the northern coast and made the pilgrimage. Juan y AndreaPlatja de Ses Illetes – a spit sugary sand – is a sand spit on the island that specializes in boozy luncheons of seafood. The hotels were not as hippie as Joni Mitchell may have wanted, and they were less luxurious. Often, the accommodations were concrete bunker structures from Franco’s dictatorship. Or they were large package resorts constructed before the 1980s government clampeddown on development. Upscale travelers seeking nicer accommodations were left to rent villas—unless they were lucky enough to be guests of Starck. 

Formentera was my first visit 20 years ago. I stayed at the only semi-chic place I could find, Las Banderas, a small hotel run by Leah Tilbury, the sister of English makeup entrepreneur Charlotte Tilbury (their parents met at a full-moon party on Formentera in the 1960s). The rooms are basic and there are only a few guests, mostly club kids on a vacation from Ibiza. The only time I had a chance to eat or drink something memorable was when I found freshly squeezed juice. 

Can 7 occupies what was once Las Banderas. Coincidentally, I was staying in the same room I had 20 years earlier, although it was unrecognizable—redesigned in wabi-sabi Style with charcoal colors, high-thread linens and earthy Moroccan fabrics. The property was originally a 1950s taverna run by an old woman who looked like a witch—I know this because a stone effigy of her marks the turnoff from the main road. The island’s many roads are marked by painted statues and rocks, rather than signs. 

The island is almost completely devoid of permits for new hotels. As older owners look to sell or lease their properties, some have been renovated and opened as barefoot lux hotels. This attracts visitors who may start their days with Pilates and finish their evenings with biodynamic wines and fresh-caught longoustines.

One of the latest is Teranka Formentera, a boutique hotel from the same developers of the Nobu Hotels in Ibiza & Marrakesh. Set among fragrant pine trees, the 35-room hotel has all the ingredients required for sophisticated lounging: raw-wood daybeds, plush neutral-color cushions, and contemporary art—not to mention a saltwater swimming pool and a rooftop bar that’s ideal for sunset cocktails. The garden restaurant may be the dreamiest on the island: built right on the sand, it has rustic wooden tables illuminated by African straw lanterns dangling from olive trees. The scene was breathtaking as my boyfriend and i ate an impossibly delicious tomato salad with burrata. The tables next to us were occupied by women dressed in sheer caftans and their hair and body was sun-kissed.

The next stop on our itinerary was Dunas de FormenteraIt opened in the summer of last year, just a few feet from the ocean. Marugal, the hotel group behind the exclusive Cap Rocat resort in Mallorca, has transformed an old hostel into a “eco-luxury’ resort. A series of whitewashed, bungalows seem to have been carved out of the dunes. The property is shaded with wind-sculpted pines that curl and snake like something out of Dr. Seuss. The landscaping was so creative that I thought I had never seen anything like it.

While we walked along the sand paths, I took off my shoes and convinced my partner to take an impromptu picture. We were both exhausted after what seemed to be hundreds of poses with ever-changing backgrounds. A waiter suddenly appeared and gave us two mojitos. Then, everything was back to normal.

We walked into our room with drinks in hand. Interiors designed by Mallorca-based Antonio Obrador pay tribute to Balearic splendor, with earthy textures made of natural materials, such as clay, jute and terracotta. There is nothing fake anywhere. A headboard in pastel pink with a stripe was a subtle homage to Mediterranean jet-sets of the 1960s. There are also eco-friendly touches, including an hourglass timer that encourages you to keep your shower to less than five minutes. 

Maria Pulido is the hotel’s manager and she has lived in the island for a long time. Her eyes were filled with pride as she asked if i had tried the vintages of the island. two wineriesBodega Teramoll and Cap de Barbaria. She told me that in the late 1800s the aphid pest called phylloxera decimated Europe’s vines after it was accidentally imported from the United States. Scientists were able to replace the vine roots with American resistant ones but the DNA of the grapes was altered. Formentera was one of few places to escape the blight due to its isolation. Varieties like Monastrell are still unadulterated. 

This is how I feel in Formentera. I’m protected from the worries of the world by the sea. It acts like a moat.

We went to Can 7 on one of our last nights for a party. The party was intimate, not an EDM-fueled bacchanalia like the ones on Ibiza. Instead, three DJs played alongside seven guests from Romania, England Spain, Sweden and the United States. As we huddled together on cushions, the Berber Tent was lit by flickering candles. A coffee table held vases filled with wildflowers as well as a mixing deck. The DJs kept the volume low to not disturb the night. They created a downtempo soundscape. It felt subversive, like a game of sardines—the reverse of hide-and-seek—in which we were all hiding from the other players on Ibiza still searching for the party. 

After a few drinks, someone suggested moving our little soirée to the beach. Formentera’s dark skies, and the lack of light pollution makes for spectacular stargazing. We spread blankets and Sarongs in the sand, then formed a large circle of heads. It felt like everyone was one happy brain. As we gazed at the stars, we sang, laughed, and shared stories. I smiled because I’d happened upon Formentera’s soul again—only this time I wasn’t even sitting, but sprawled out gloriously under the stars. 

The original version of this article appeared in the June 20,25 issue of Travel + Leisure The Isla Bonita is a beautiful island.”