The Magic & Magnetism of Ibiza

A love letter to the island that holds our hearts.

There are places in the world that go beyond beauty. Places that don’t just sit in your memory but live in your bones. For us, that place is Ibiza.

It’s hard to explain to anyone who’s never felt it - the pull this little Balearic island has. It’s not just the turquoise waters, the music filled with soul that’s always on the breeze, or even the world-famous sunsets that slow time to a heartbeat. It’s something deeper. A magnetic energy. A kind of magic that finds its way into your spirit and quietly refuses to leave.

Ibiza has always been more than a holiday destination to me. It’s been a witness to so many chapters of my life - from wild summers in my twenties, to sacred moments of grief and goodbye, to the deep, grounding joy of love and friendship.

I first visited the island in the blur of youth - with friends, and with Ant, in search of something we couldn’t quite name. We danced through nights that turned into mornings, laughed until our ribs ached, and floated in the sea with no agenda other than to feel alive. Ibiza gave us space to breathe. To be fully ourselves. There was freedom in the air, like the island gave you permission to drop the masks and just be.

But as with life, time moved forward, and not all chapters were easy ones. After losing Ant, it felt only right that part of him stayed on the island he loved too. One golden evening, with the sun spilling over the horizon, we scattered his ashes into the sea. The sky turned pink and orange, and in that stillness, I swear the island held me. There was no wind. Just this deep, sacred knowing that he was where he belonged. That he had become part of Ibiza’s soul.

And then, last year, another chapter. A full-circle moment that still makes my heart swell: Warren and I married here - in the same land that had seen so much of my story. Our wedding was an absolute dream, but it was more than a beautiful day. It was a spiritual binding, not just between us, but between our story and the island itself. As the sun set on that blissful day and we danced under a huge disco ball, we felt everyone we had ever loved standing there - some in body, some in spirit - but all part of it.

There’s one place that encapsulates Ibiza’s magnetism more than anywhere else for us: Es Vedrà.

This towering limestone rock rises from the sea just off the island’s southwest coast, shrouded in myth and legend. Some say it's the third most magnetic spot on Earth. Others call it the tip of the sunken civilisation of Atlantis. It’s been linked to sirens, gods, and miracles. But even without the stories, Es Vedrà carries a power you can feel in your soul. You don’t just look at it - you experience it. I remember us standing staring at the spot we would later marry in – in the middle of a beautiful woods when we visited our wedding villa, Warren’s hand in mine, tears silently falling, as though something ancient was watching over us. It felt like standing in the presence of something otherworldy.

Ibiza teaches you things, if you let it. About how to let go. About how to love wildly. About how to come home to yourself. It’s the kind of place that holds both your joy and your sorrow and tells you they’re both sacred. That both belong.

I don't think we’ll ever stop returning here, in body or in spirit. It’s the place where I was young, where I said goodbye, where we said "I do," and where I remembered that love isn’t something that ends. It shifts. It dances. It expands.

Just like Ibiza.