People who disembark in Mykonos are very different but also very similar.
Applying the science of lifestyle, they shall be classified in 7 tribes:
(who are fed up with Saint Tropez and Saint Bart’s)
Fascinated by the architecture and seashores of the island, as they see them from the sea, they usually refuse stubbornly to leave the wooden deck and step on the golden sand and the whitewashed pavements.
And if they get bored eventually of the Apollonian sun that shines above Delos, they turn to luxurious shopping to entertain their holiday boredom and their misery for being so rich.
(Landowners in a cosmopolitan Porto Heli)
They have sealed their relationship with the island by a multimillion contract; they buy a piece of land with a view (land without views is non discussable) they build, according to their personal taste, small rustic villas with design arcs and windswept embroidered curtains.
The virgin beach at Agios Sostis – they believe is their own secret utopia and they curse anyone for revealing to infidels the path to bohemian sunbathing.
The Serial Mykonians
(They always say that they will never come back, but each year they reappear)
Each time they enter the ship to Patmos, they get off at Mykonos, as they harbour guilty love that binds them to this isle. They will appear with full bohemian chic outfits at Panormos, the beach that lonely riders used to favour, which has lately become a place to see and be seen.
Celebrities & Socialites
(Mykonos is only a stop on their trolleybus)
In a bizarre way, these personas fuel the fun by creating crazy gossips and luring the people-watchers from other Cycladic spots. They are trolled by the paparazzi who need to populate celebrity high-circulation magazines.
Doubtlessly, the island owes a favour to these celebrities and their entourage, since they get the party started even before the DJ gives the beat.
(Chasing what’s left of the myth)
They visit the island because they see it as a more sophisticated Ibiza, with undoubtedly superior beaches, and a tolerant village where they could live forever if the season didn’t end with November storms.
They are there to show off their buff steroidal arms or the new D-Squared swimsuits.
Elia is the most welcoming beach for the eccentric crowds. A cage without bars, a pink ghetto, an independent gay mini state has lifted its colourful flag there and it’s so original that everyone should stop by just for an experience.
The Lifestyle Workers
(One more night with only 2 hours sleep: where will that get us?)
Every spring, usually just before the Greek Easter, the island is filled with fortune-hunters: multilingual hotel employees who can do wonders in nine languages, half-crazy chefs who can whip up goat mousse, narcissist barmen with a master’s degree in margaritas, and water-ski and surfing instructors with six-pack abs.
(You could call them newcomers, unsuspecting and… UFOs)
To them Mykonos is a giant myth like Atlantis. Since they are easy-going, thirsty, and open to new experience, sooner or later they’ll find the right path that leads to where they want to go.
Some of them will follow the “classic, immortal Mykonos” tour, enthusiastically downing shots at Paradise and Super Paradise, afternoon frappes at Egli, or bellinis in Mikri Venetia. In the morning they will put on their sunglasses, not to return to their humid bed, but to continue partying in Cavo Paradiso with its never-ending procession of international superstar DJs.