My grandmother and I were born on the same day, a coincidence that kept us close, no matter our differences. Every birthday she reminded me how lucky we were to share a place in the week of “Builders and Dreamers,” a line of pioneers and visionaries born in the second week of March. Politicians. Inventors. Artists. People from every walk of life who saw the world differently and pursued their passions relentlessly. Then she would tell a story about a dreamer who changed the course of history and pull me into a firm hug. “That is why you should never be afraid to dream,” she would say. That these dreams would guide me to where I was meant to be.

As a quiet, awkward child, her words were tonic. They gave me permission to think boldly and trust my instincts. She was teaching me confidence in the face of opposition. But more than that, she was opening a door to possibilities I might never have imagined. In pushing me to dream, she introduced me to myself and set my creativity free.

I became an unapologetic dreamer.

And she was right. My dreams have shaped who I am. They led me to New York City, to my passions, and to fragrance. They inspired me to create Charenton Macerations, to bring Christopher Street to life, and to give shape to countless ideas. They continue to guide me forward.

Every day I look to the next dream.