In the life-changing summer between fifth and sixth grades, I learned what real luxury means: Silence.
When my godmother—who was returning to New York City after a month-long visit to my family in Miami—asked me if I wanted to go “have an adventure in Manhattan” before the school year began, I leapt at the chance. Are you kidding me? As the only Woody Allen-Jack Kerouac loving Cuban kid in the neighborhood, the idea of spending time with my favorite aunt in New York away from Miami’s stifling heat was an answer to many a prayer.
Just prior to boarding the National Airlines flight, a ticket agent approached us and asked my aunt if we would like to sit in first class where there were two open seats. My aunt smiled and we were escorted to the front of the aircraft. As the curtain was pulled behind us dividing the plane, it hit me: This is different up here. No one spoke. The light was dimmed. I understood.
Once in the city of my dreams, my aunt took me on a raucous shopping day filled with toy stores and flea markets before we entered what I at first mistook to be a massive church: Bergdorf Goodman. As we walked through the impossibly heavy doors, I knew we were on a different sort of holy ground. As I took it all in—muted colors and hushed tones enveloped us—I noticed everyone smiling at us. Everyone. We were in the club. And I liked it.
Informed by those childhood memories, I’ve always seemed to know the precious commodity most of us crave is the ability to shut the chaotic world out. It happened to me on that airplane so long ago and it happened to me at Bergdorf’s, where the hustle-and-bustle of the world’s greatest city was an instant distant memory. It also happened to me at a friend’s dream beach house in LaJolla, near San Diego. I spent part of a summer there after my sophomore year at Tulane University, and as I walked to the back of the spectacular residence, I could see through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls half a dozen toddlers running around playing on the beach, clearly shrieking with delight, but I heard nothing. Nothing. In this luxurious modern mansion, I was hermetically, magically protected from the outside world’s noisy distractions. That, to me, is luxury. Real luxury.
So, with that, I’d like to quietly welcome you to HudsonMOD, a magazine that strives to be your informed companion, a smart, funny and knowledgeable BFF. Given the constant din that overwhelms most of our daily lives—24-hour-news, social media hyperactivity, the must-know-everything-this-second mentality—HudsonMOD is going to be the calming antidote you crave. Yes, our magazine (and terrific companion website, hudsonmod.com) is full of surprising, enlightening and compelling pictures and words, but it’s mostly a magazine that deeply understands our reader. Our discerning reader. Our reader who knows what genuine luxury is.
As you enjoy the fascinating stories and marvel at the striking images, go ahead and smile with the knowledge that HudsonMOD exists solely to make you happy. How many things in your life can you honestly say that about?
Go on, take off your shoes and silence your iPhone. It’s time to shut the world out. It’s time to experience real luxury. It’s time to discover HudsonMOD. Shhh….