A Letter to the Ones Who Make the Moments

I have been hosting since before I knew it was a job. Themed birthday parties, a “summer club” at nine years old, a black-tie gala at Muhlenberg. It was never about the perfect tablescape (though I do love a pretty table). It was about the handshake, the hug, the new friend, the moment someone walked in and felt like they belonged.

I turned that into a career and never looked back. Twenty-two years of it. I left a very good corporate job because I couldn't keep making events bigger while feeling like I was shrinking my vision. I went on to build an event from the ground up, RacquetX. I've built moments for Coca-Cola, Spotify, IBM, friends, family. I've reinvented experiences on the world's biggest stages and, more quietly, fought to put new voices on them (a labor of love). 

I taught. I mentored. I argued, in rooms, in contracts, in keynotes, that experience is not nice to have or a decoration. That a moment, made well, is where belonging happens, where loyalty is born, where the business actually turns. I've spent two decades fighting for the value of this craft and the people who practice it.

And lately, I feel a little…blah. 

Do you know the feeling too? The feed that never ends, Pinterest boards upon Pinterest boards, posts no one remembers, the sea of sameness that somehow gets louder and emptier at the same time. We're all chasing the algorithm instead of the energy (the craft I love) while the human in-the-room is getting harder to see through the noise.

We are tasked with making magic for others, but we need to be lit up ourselves! 

So, I woke up one day and said “I'm making a magazine for us”.

A PRINT ONE. A gorgeously cool one. Twice a year. For the people who create experiences for a living. For the planners, the designers, the builders, the hosts. Something with weight in your hands and a point of view on its pages, that doesn't dissolve the second you scroll past. Think the sophistication of Kinfolk meets the joy Highlights used to bring. With surprises and ideas and just awesome sh*t. 

It won't be for everyone. That's kind of the point. It'll be for us.

I can't build it alone, nor would I want to. (C’mon, I preach about community and building in public and the journey of a launch). If you are one of the people who believe, like I do, that this work matters and deserves something beautiful and permanent and inspiring, please come along on this ride with me. You aren’t buying a “subscription” (although, yes, you kind of are). You're more of a founder with me and helping keep its point of view honest as it grows.

I've spent my whole life making people feel seen when they show up. This is me trying to do it for more of you than one room can hold and to not get lost in a sea of flaming hot LinkedIn garbage. It’s for everyone who's ever made a moment for someone else and wondered if anyone noticed

I noticed. Come make it with me (pretty please).

xRD

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