A few weeks ago, I pushed open the doors of MAISON MAY VANDERBILT.
I had a clear aesthetic vision, a strong business idea and above all, a deep desire for it to perspire emotions & tell a story, my story. I was not sure how it would all articulate itself in the end or really, how this story would even manifest itself in the actual space.
But to my own surprise, it is working.
In a few days, I will open the doors of my 2nd business.
All at once it will be a beginning, an end, an expansion, a continuation, and a true manifestation of what I have been marching towards.
It has been quite a journey.
Here is what has been happening.
In early November, I had had enough of it all. I had been searching for a full year for the right 2nd location- and the process had gone from being exhilarating and exciting, to utterly depleting. I had pushed myself, as I always do: going really fast, just go, go, go.
And so by November, I gave up.
Right at that moment, when everything about my project softened in me, well, the location came.
And of course, it had been there all along.
Recently the boys & I went to see the latest Hunger Games Mockingjay movie. With a budget of $160 million,
the film is considered a “success” for grossing something like $240 million so far, worldwide.
As we left the movie, my head still spinning, I kept thinking: how do I reframe what really defines creativity, art & dedicated work to my boys in our society that defines success based on dollars.
Then, a memory came to me and the summers I spent in the Ardèche region in my godmother’s little bakery & how with each baguette sold, I learnt how success is what happens when someone pursue quality & integrity.
If you live in Brooklyn, and take time to walk around a bit, you are probably well aware of the incredible disconnect happening in our borough right now: stretches of once-vibrant commercial streets are turning into no-man’s-lands, with two or three vacant storefronts on every block (please, if you haven’t recently, go walk down Smith Street.)
At the same time, the rest of the world is looking at Brooklyn fantasizing about the way of life here, supposedly the most vibrant, creative, and exciting place to be in the whole wide world.
How can such a dichotomy happen?
More importantly, what does it mean for those living in Brooklyn, and then, for those beyond this microcosm?
And why do I care about that so much?
The Maison May expansion and philosophy
Vision: Building a new kind of independent business that can play an active part in the global reconstruction & healing of the environment & its people.
A summer in the 1980’s: I am 10 years old.
My feet are dunked in the sand, my gaze on the horizon of the placid Gulf of Saint-Tropez. All over my fingers & my face is the smell of freshly grilled sardines, which I just devoured. I am happy: with each I got closer to the sea, merging with all elements surrounding me.
Summer 2015: Upstate NY with my boys.
Theo is covered in blueberry juice & Lucas has an impressive cream-on-top-milk-mustache. As I watch my sons, I am transported back to the beach of my childhood, grasping all at once how food not only connects people to each other, but to a place, a precise geographic pocket of where it comes from, in a very visceral way.
A couple weeks ago, the wine importer Camille Rivière & myself hosted a wine dinner at ICI (now Maison May), pouring biodynamic wines from Jura, France.
At the end of the evening, several guests commented on what a delicious, unpretentious & eye-opening experience this dinner was.
I truly enjoy introducing natural wines to people who have never before tasted these kind of wines before. It’s like watching someone eating farm fresh chicken for the 1st time: Once you taste the difference, you never go back.