The Arrival
Every sourcing trip begins with a small ritual.
This one began at the Brightline station at MCO — a place that unexpectedly carried echoes of another life. Years ago, My co-founder and I spent countless hours running my start-up, Yoga on the Fly, inside the Denver Airport. Airports have always felt like portals to possibility for me, but this was different.
The Brightline feels almost… international.
Clean. Modern. Effortless.
People move with intention and kindness, and in the Premier car there are small luxuries waiting everywhere you turn. I took my Prosecco, Americano, breakfast pastries, and snacks very seriously — because the truth is, the journey is part of the ritual.
And then suddenly, Palm Beach.
The moment it all truly arrived was walking into my little vintage Key West–style Airbnb. The windows were open, the breeze moved through the rooms, and the salt air wrapped around me like a familiar memory.
I left my half-unpacked suitcase in the bedroom and headed straight out the door.
There was a show waiting.
The First Finds
The antique and vintage show was already buzzing when I arrived — tables layered with decades of stories waiting to be rediscovered.
These are the moments that remind me why I do this.
I formed new connections almost immediately, bonding over sterling silver with a dynamic duo of from Cape Cod, who were as passionate about jewelry as I am. At one point they even tried to buy the David Yurman bracelet off my wrist — which felt like the ultimate compliment.
Among the tables I uncovered pristine pieces of Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels, Chanel, and Givenchy, and costume jewelry — untouched treasures waiting for their next life.
And then there was the Pucci clutch.
I swear it jumped straight off the table into my arms.
“It’s early Pucci,” the proprietor said.
“Of course it is,” I answered almost instinctively.
Some pieces don’t need convincing.
They simply find you.
Pucci and I… we just understand each other.
An Evening in Palm Beach
The show closed at 4 pm, and my Airbnb hosts had recommended dinner at Grato.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt transported — a little bit New York, a little bit Palm Beach magic. Brick walls lined with Grateful Dead posters immediately made me think of my mom and the many incognito deadheads who seem to recognize each other without saying a word.
At the pizza bar, I struck up conversation with a gentleman who insisted that I must visit the Norton Museum and walk down Antique Row the next day.
We shared dinner and conversation, and when the evening ended he insisted on walking me back to my Airbnb simply because he enjoyed the company.
There is something about travel that invites these small, beautiful human moments.
Wandering Palm Beach
The next morning I skipped the show.
Palm Beach was calling.
I wandered through town with no real plan, which is often when the best discoveries happen. Somewhere along the way I stumbled into a Maman bakery — and for a moment I felt transported to Provence, with a hint of Washington DC nostalgia woven in.
Fueled by a pistachio croissant and a lavender honey latte, a creative spark took hold.
What followed was a 12,000-step treasure hunt.
Palm trees that reminded me of Costa Rica lined the park paths, so naturally I paused to take them in. Just as I stopped under the shade, a violinist began playing in the gazebo nearby.
For a moment I genuinely wondered if I had somehow wandered into Stars Hollow.
Travel does that sometimes — it blurs the lines between memory and place.
The Search
Eventually the racks called.
Dozens of them.
Sorting through garments is its own meditation — fabrics sliding through your fingers, labels revealing themselves slowly.
One Etro sweater nearly brought me to tears.
But Palm Beach reminded me of something important: spring is coming.
So I shifted the search.
Cottons.
Linens.
Light fabrics meant for sun and sea air.
And suddenly — almost magically — European designers I had never heard of began appearing on the racks in front of me.
Moments like that set the tone for sourcing.
Because sourcing isn’t just about finding beautiful things.
It’s about slowing down enough to notice them.
A Perfect Meal
Across the street, I stopped at Table 26 for dinner.
It turned out to be one of the most memorable meals I’ve had in a long time — chicken cacciatore followed by key lime pie.
I was wearing my favorite hot pink sundress from Anthropologie and a vintage YSL necklace I rarely show anyone.
It feels like my little secret.
Palm Beach felt like the perfect place to let it out into the world for a night.
The Walk Home
I walked back without needing Google Maps this time.
The most surprising part was how light I felt. Normally my arthritis reminds me how many miles I’ve walked, but that evening my feet felt effortless.
I glided back to my little vintage sanctuary, sank into the couch, and smiled.
Everything about the moment felt beautifully layered.
A vintage house filled with the scent of salt air that reminded me of growing up on the beach in New Jersey.
Trees that echoed Costa Rica.
Meals that carried memories of New York and Washington, DC.
And a suitcase (now completely full) with pieces that had already lived beautiful lives.
The Talisman
One piece stopped me completely.
A silver-tone brooch shaped like a figure skater, paired with tiny embedded ice-skate earrings.
The moment I saw it, I knew.
It felt like the universe whispering:
you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
That one stays with me.
A small talisman from the trip — a reminder that this path, this work of searching and storytelling through objects, is the right one.
The Next Chapter
Eventually the sourcing trip ends.
The train ride home.
The unpacking.
The careful photographing and cataloging.
And most of the pieces make their way into the shop, ready for their next life. Usually I can't help but keep a piece for myself.
But the story of where they were found — the streets walked, the conversations shared, the coffee and croissants and small moments of magic — stays with them.
And when they find their next owner, that story quietly becomes part of their journey too.
That’s the heart of Sourcing Diaries.
Because every piece has lived a life before.
And somewhere out there, its next chapter is waiting. ✨