World-builder. Traveller. Host. Dreamer. Between Los Angeles, Careyes, Paris and Ibiza, Lulu Luchaire creates magical Ondalinda worlds shaped by art, nature and ritual – moving through life with freedom, curiosity and a taste for the unexpected.

Introduction
My chosen name is <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lululuchaire/">Lulu Luchaire</a>.
My work involves creating magical Ondalinda worlds.
I call home... a few places at once. I live between Los Angeles, Careyes in Mexico, Ibiza, and Paris. I've made peace with being a little scattered across the map. Each of these places feeds a different part of me, and Ibiza is the one that holds most of the summer.
I first discovered Ibiza when I was about twenty-five, and I've come back every summer for the past twenty years.
My initial visit was inspired by two people who were very important in my life at the time — an English boyfriend and a Swiss-Brazilian best friend — who each had a family house in Roca Lisa on the island. So I arrived through their Ibiza, which is maybe the best way to arrive anywhere: not as a tourist, but already inside someone's summer, their friends, their table, their swimming spots.
My first impression of Ibiza was culture and identity. I'm drawn to places with a strong sense of self, places with many layers — and Ibiza has so many. From the Phoenicians to the Moors to the Spanish Empire, from the hippies to the clubbing culture, the farms, Las Salinas, that distinctive flowy, colourful Ibiza look... it offers such diversity that it would take a lifetime to explore it all. And the beautiful thing is that all of it coexists, sometimes on the same afternoon.
Upon touchdown, the first thought that crosses my mind is run up north to my favourite calas, swim topless, feel free and mermaid. Leave the city life behind. Something in my shoulders drops the moment I smell the pines from the car window.

1. Can you share any ways in which Ibiza has influenced your work or life?
Ibiza gives me permission to be free — to be a touch more fearless, a touch more wild, a touch more naked, a touch further from the carcans, the things that bind us. There's a deep sense of freedom here. A place where you can be yourself, be vulnerable, dance, and make encounters both expected and unexpected. I think that freedom seeps into the worlds I build the rest of the year — Ibiza reminds me that the best things happen when you leave a little room for the unplanned, for magic to walk in.&nbsp;
2. Would you say that Ibiza serves as a source of inspiration for you?
For the past fifteen years I've spent so much of my time between Careyes and Ibiza, and in many ways they remind me of each other — two wild, beautiful places led by nature, where people come to feel something. I always say: "When I'm retired, I'll live six months in Careyes and six months in Ibiza." Some of my dear friends already do exactly that, and that, to me, is a real source of inspiration — a life arranged around beauty and seasons rather than obligation. With the occasional hop to a big city for a Calder retrospective or a Schiaparelli exhibition, both of which I was lucky enough to see just before I landed in Ibiza in early June.&nbsp;
3. Could you mention any works or projects of yours that have been inspired by Ibiza?
We're about to host a big dinner party at Atzaró — one of my favourite sanctuaries, in the heart of the island — inspired by Hieronymus Bosch's triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights, which lives at the Prado in Madrid. We chose this painting because, in an allegorical way, it feels like a day in Ibiza: the meditation and innocence of the morning, the abundance of fruit and wine and sun and skin at sunset, and then the wilder, more decadent descent into the night. Three acts, just like the island. We're weaving that whole world into the evening — the costumes, the table, the fruit, the figures — so that guests don't just look at the painting, they step inside it for one night.
4. Which artistic or cultural aspects of Ibiza do you find most prominent and intriguing?
I love how far back the culture reaches. Thousands of years ago, people were already walking the paths of this magical island. So many different peoples and influences, layered one over the other. Above all I love the mysticism: the Goddess Tanit, the god Bes the island is said to be named after, Es Vedrà, the moon beach, the caves... so many powerful symbols. It’s a place of ritual and mystery. You feel it even if you can’t name it — people have been responding to the energy here for millennia, and I love being one more person in that very long line.
5. Is there a particular place on the island that you find especially inspiring?
The northeast, that's where I spend most of my time. Between Cala Mastella, where I get my fresh grilled sardines, and Cala Boix for a long swim, and all the little nooks and crannies between Cala Sant Vicent and Cala Nova, basically. That's my favourite little corner of the island — quieter, a bit wilder, a bit more secret. The kind of place you only really find if someone who loves you takes you there.
6. Has Ibiza's local culture or lifestyle taught you anything valuable or influential?
A sense of freedom, joy, community. I have real, dear friends on the island, people who matter to me, and it's always a pleasure to reconnect once a year and spend time together. And then there's that tension between chaos and stillness... there's always so much to do here, so it becomes a lesson in choosing what feels right, being present, not running after the party or the ceremony or the lunch that everyone says you have to be at. It's so fun to dip into all of these, don't get me wrong. But at the end of the day, I love the quieter, more grounding side of Ibiza most of all. I love a day on the boat, watching the sun set behind Es Vedrà from the sea. I love a swim in the caves. I love worrying about the medusas. Part of me wishes that one day, that could be my only worry of the day! That's the real luxury the island teaches: not doing everything, but choosing the few things that actually fill you up.
7. Have you ever experienced a sense of belonging or homecoming during your time in Ibiza?
Every year, especially because I have my little habits here. There's a place I love to swim, the same corner each time. Then I'll go on a morning adventure for my delicious rainbow bagel in Santa Gertrudis, fill up my wardrobe for the season at Elefante, pick up fresh cheese at Juntos — and I'm lucky to have wonderful local friends who give me fresh produce and eggs from their chickens. I like to get lost in the middle of nowhere on a hike up to some torre and end up on the wrong side of the wrong cala... that happens a lot, ha! There's a comfort in repeating these rituals — the island remembers you through them.
And there's something older underneath it all. Both Las Salinas and the smell of the pine trees are so close to my heart. I grew up summering between cycling around the salt pans of L'Île de Ré and the tall pines of Le Pyla in France and both make Ibiza feel homey and familiar.

Ibiza reminds me that the best things happen when you leave a little room for the unplanned, for magic to walk in.

8. Are there any particular sounds, smells, tastes, or sights in Ibiza that stir strong emotions within you?
The briny, salty air of Las Salinas — such an emblem. The warm Aleppo pine resin baking in the sun, sharp and sweet at once, especially on the inland paths up north. The garriga, which, like the maquis in Corsica, has its own very particular smell — a blend of wild herbs and low scrub. And the sounds: that constant summer drone of cicadas, forever the emblem of summer, and of course the Sunday drumming at Benirràs, which is the heartbeat of sunset on the island.
And one taste-and-touch memory I treasure: last year I got to do pottery with Jeremy, straight from the clay of the cliffs at the moon beach to the ovens at Juntos Farm. I made a little cup that now sits on my bedside table in Los Angeles, a cherished reminder that summer is always coming back.
9. How do you feel when you leave Ibiza? Do you sense any change in yourself?
I don't ever really leave Ibiza. Like everyone else, I miss my flight, extend my stay, and extend it again, until eventually a plane swooshes in and carries me off. It never quite feels like my decision... it just eventually happens. And then I start counting the days until next year. I always leave a little browner, a little softer, a little more myself — and I carry that version of me back into the world for as long as it lasts.

Ibiza Dreamer: Lulu Luchaire

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