The morning light of Mykonos melts like liquid platinum, gently spreading across the pure white alleys. We ascend along lively streets, and at the turn of a hidden corner, the Anandes Hotel quietly appears — poised on the edge of a cliff, as if lifted by the tender hands of the mountain and the sea, a crescent of tranquility. Passing through its elegant foyer, the view suddenly unfolds wide open.

Inside the lobby, interior designer Vangelis Bonios greets us, with the boundless seascape unfurling behind him like a painted scroll. As a master of luxury boutique hotel design, he speaks in a calm tone about xenia — the true essence of Greek hospitality. “In the Greek language and history, hospitality is more than offering food and shelter — it embodies a moral dimension of kindness and generosity.”He pauses, his gaze drifting across the sea, as if tracing that ancient belief. “Even in mythology, gods would visit mortals in the guise of strangers.”This reverence for the spirit of welcoming forms the foundation of his philosophy — to make spaces that carry not only beauty but warmth, allowing every guest to feel seen, valued, and embraced.

White reigns supreme throughout the hotel, accented by touches of black and hints of cobalt blue scattered across the jewelry shop, art pieces, and ceiling beams. The dark wooden reception desk curves in a gentle arc — an open embrace against the pure white walls and grey brick floor. It is Vangelis’s Greek embrace to the world — reserved, passionate, and filled with human tenderness. Before the vastness of mountain and sea, all flourish falls silent. The muted palette serves only to elevate nature’s vividness. “Every window here is a frame,” he says softly, looking toward the distance, where the Aegean blue flows through the panes. “We are merely the framemakers — the true artwork is the nature outside.”

“Renovating an old building is like translating an ancient poem,” Vangelis continues. “You must preserve the rhythm of the Greek language, yet make its emotion understood by the world.” Behind him, a limestone bench — designed specially for the hotel — echoes the sacred columns of the Parthenon, refined yet timeless. The white linen sofa by French design poet Pierre Augustin Rose reclines lazily before the fireplace, forming the living room's visual focal point alongside the handmade coffee table Demeter created by the famous French duo Gilles et Boissier. Together, they extend an invitation of utmost tenderness for guests to linger by the firelight, sharing and listening. Playing a starring role in the interior ambience are the meticulously curated lighting fixtures by Vangelis. In the lobby, pendant light “ Fingi ” by Eric Schmidt stands as a sculpture above the custom reception desk, while the Beaune lamp  by Thierry Lemaire provides the perfect finishing touch to the entire space.

The fireplace carries forward the island’s vernacular architecture and craft traditions. “The hearth is the heart of island life,” Vangelis says, gently running his hand across the textured limewash surface. “I hope travelers can touch the soul of Greece here — and that people from every corner of the world can find a sense of belonging in this sea’s embrace.”

Following Vangelis into the bedrooms, that tender care continues. Simple linen canopies and soft bedding create a cocooning island experience; blue embroidery on the curtains quietly whispers the Greek spirit. Every piece of furniture is part of the poem he wrote for the hotel. “All furniture must pass an energy test,” he laughs. “You must feel the pulse of the material, as if embracing a lover.” For him, customization is never a display of skill — it is about ensuring every corner breathes with the same design DNA.

He stops suddenly. “Plastic has no place in my spaces.” His fingers trace the marble room number carved from Tinos stone. “Only materials touched by human hands carry warmth.”His insistence reveals his devotion: wall paint mixed with local clay, drying into delicate cracks; marble bearing the marks of chisels and the breath of stone; teak tabletops inlaid with calcified seashells, like the fingerprints of the ocean. “The temperature and grain of wood tell stories,” he murmurs. “I want travelers from all over the world to feel the body heat of the island.”

Above the bed hangs a circular marble relief by artisans from nearby Tinos Island, its radiating pattern resembling frozen sunlight. “This is our sun god, Helios,” Vangelis says, his fingers gliding over the stone’s uneven surface. “If you take time to feel the space, you’ll understand the language of light. I want every guest to feel the care and love of the one who welcomes them.”

When the interior withdraws its sharpness, the entire hotel becomes a prism of light. The windows cut the sea and sky into geometric compositions; the silhouettes of travelers ripple softly across the white walls; architecture becomes the humble margin of a vast natural painting.“To return white to the clouds, and blue to the sea — we simply polish the windows so that light may pass through,” he says. In the winds of Mykonos, Anandes drifts like a cloud scented with pine and sea spray, singing an endless polyphony — a harmony of Greek soul and contemporary design.

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