Soneva Gili & Six Senses Spa, North Malé Atoll, Maldives

A cluster of sun-bleached shacks, slat-sided and straw-hatted, shimmers low on the midday horizon. As the speedboat skims towards it, the miasma solidifies into separate buildings, each one seemingly organised from driftwood and whimsy. A deck here, a conical grass roof there, a bristle of piers, the glint of glass — yes, it is habitable. A couple in swimwear climb a ladder from the sea to a landing, slake their thirsts with champagne from a frosted bucket — indeed, it is very stylishly inhabited.

Such is my first glimpse of Soneva Gili Resort and Spa in the Maldives. It seems like a sea gypsy village, a hamlet of castaway castles, although each one (as I know by reputation) will be appointed like a bolt-hole for a millionaire Robinson Crusoe. And so it is. The affix “Soneva” before a resort means that you are in for something special. Exclusive, expensive and exquisite, the Maldives’ two Soneva resorts — the very new Gili and its sister Fushi — are like no others, nor like each other.

Like all Maldivian resorts, Soneva Gili has an entire small island to itself - Lankanfushi, six nautical miles (or 15 speedboat minutes) north of the Maldives capital Male. Each of the resort's 44 huge over-water villas is a free-standing structure connected by a walkway to a triangular central jetty that juts one hundred metres into the lagoon.

A young Maldivian woman, Hajja leads me to my villa. "These are the largest rooms in the Maldives," she says. It is no idle boast. My villa suite seems to go on forever, its three main areas (bedroom, plus indoor-outdoor living room and bathroom) stretching some 30 metres, while a small stairway leads to a spacious upper deck that includes a reading bower and even a sala bed for those who love to sleep below the stars. Other steps lead down from the bathroom to the lagoon and a screened bathing enclosure.

Hajja points out the welter of gizmos and creature comforts that Robinson Crusoe must barely have survived without — satellite TV and a bar full of Perrier and Dom Perignon — plus my favourite conveyance, a white bicycle. Such is the sprawl of the over-water villas and on-shore everything else (bar, Six Senses Spa, restaurants, dive shop, pool) that a bike is the ideal get-around device. For those not inclined to peddle, nifty little golf carts shuttle you from point to point to whichever palm tree you indicate.

Every facet of the resort reflects Swedish-born co-proprietor/designer Eva Shivdasani’s vision. Her aspiration is succinct — to provide “intelligent luxury.” As the Eva in Son-Eva (Sonu, her husband contributes the other syllable and equal acumen), over a decade she has evolved in their luxury retreats a signature style that, for want of a better term, I think of as “Scandinavian Troppo”. The ochre blinds, linen and parchment textures, sienna cushions, louvered doors, whitewashed adobe, sand floors, an infinity pool … as a list the elements mean little, but in combination their gestalt frequently leads me to admire the mind behind this post-mod surf shack that I temporarily inhabit. The sandy lagoon bottom wears its best dress whites. A small ray scuds across it like a bird in slow flight. Somewhere between the sea and sand there's an over-water restaurant and bar that has the whole Indian Ocean for a backdrop. There are plenty of water toys and a dive centre (the depths here are brilliant); you can sail or windsurf or take a surfing excursion to the challenging local reefs. Back on solid sand, the Gili's fine dining restaurant has a no-shoes dress code. For a "desert island", its gardens (with imported, rich Indonesian topsoil) are an oasis of all the green things you'd want to accompany the nicely varied dining selection.

At night the only sounds you might hear are the slap of ripples against the piers and the white noise hum of surf on the distant reef. If you're a partyer, a gregarious, loquacious, love-a-crowd type, then the tranquility and three's-a-crowd privacy of Soneva Gili may not be for you.

Meanwhile, just offshore from my not-so-humble villa is even more accommodation, seven mid-lagoon love shacks. Separated from both the beach and jetty are the so-called Crusoe Residences. Should cabin fever strike - or perhaps just the desire to see other faces — when you and you're beloved are out her, then your butler in a rowboat will ferry you to and from shore. Be it a love fest or love test (not everyone, I suspect, can handle so much "togetherness alone"), the contemporary Crusoe couple who luxuriate in one of these Residences will look back for years on the time they were marooned on a designer desert island.