The first hotel I remember knew my name before I arrived.

My mom, sister and I had just landed in Venice. A handsome Italian man named Ivan met us at the airport, escorted us onto our chic boat, and took us to our hotel, where the staff were waiting for us. The staff already had our passport information, and they quickly and discreetly escorted us up to our room after the long journey.

I thought it was all magical. I hadn’t realized that someone could be waiting for you the moment you arrived. Ivan stayed with us for the entire trip through Italy. He took us from Venice to Rome, Florence, Bologna, and finally Paris. Ivan made sure everything was handled, from the time we had breakfasts to making sure we had Euros when shopping. He navigated the streets so we were able to soak everything up without a single worry.

A big part of luxury is capturing this feeling. You are expected, you are understood, and the time is yours. I was a kid and couldn’t have explained it, but I knew I wanted it again.

After that, every trip started with the same questions: where are we staying? What will the rooms be like? Will they leave a note with our names? I studied the view and bathroom products, and I wanted to know how the hotel knew when we were coming back from the room.

By my early teens, I was the one planning. My mom wanted to see Spain, so I logged into her Amex account and pulled up a different tab for every Fine Hotel & Resort property in every city. I took her through them methodically, comparing the price, views, bedroom configurations. After Spain came Scandinavia, Africa, Turkey, a River Cruise, Antarctica… eventually it was just my mom and me, and by the time I finished my Master’s at NYU I had planned my own trips to all seven continents.

That is where my standards come from. I grew up as a guest in these hotels, so I know what they feel like when they get it right, and I notice quickly when they don’t.

At a hotel charging $2k a night for an entry-level room, I expect them to know my name when I arrive, what time they are expecting me, and to have my details on file. I don’t want to be walked through my own room after a long flight, because I promise I’ll be able to find the bathroom on my own. If there is an interesting coffee machine and a beautiful minibar, I would like for there to be milk in the fridge. I have a lot of these opinions, and you’ll get all of them here.

What I didn’t have for a long time was the trade itself. A recruiter found me through an itinerary I’d produced for one of my clients, and he was relentless about messaging me on LinkedIn. At the time, I was finishing my Master’s and planning multi-week trips to Australia and around the globe for clients who paid me a planning fee for an incredibly in depth itinerary. When I started interviewing, I didn’t know that hotels paid commission. I didn’t know the term DMC either, which is the local management company that runs a trip on the ground, even though Ivan had worked for one.

Planning and experiencing a beautiful trip and knowing how the industry works are different skills, and I was grateful to grow up with the former. The latter I learned through spending years training at top private travel membership clubs, and then I took that knowledge and built the foundations of a travel program for a leading AI concierge company. Those years taught me what you can’t learn as a guest. I learned how to work with family offices and assistants, not just the principal. I learned how hotel upgrades really work, and when is possible to even ask for one. I learned what traveling in the busiest weeks of the year looks like, and what a full property buyout involves. We were a good sized team with different areas of expertise, so I learned to plan nearly every destination under the sun.

This has been my career, not a second one. Anyone can become a travel advisor now. You can join a host agency over a weekend, post a few hotel videos, and be in business, and some of those advisors are decent. I did the job for years before posting about it. This is the wrong order, apparently.

Here is what all of that looks like when I plan a trip.

My standards are mine, and yours might be different. I can’t stand the room walk through when I’ve checked in, and some people love it. The first thing I ask a client is how they like to feel, and what they are prioritizing. Some of the wealthiest travelers I plan for wouldn’t spend $5k a night on a room in a city, but they won’t hesitate to spend four times that amount a night when traveling with their parents and kids.

Once I know these priorities, we work through options together, and I advise with my expertise versus just providing information, since anyone can look up the specs of a destination or hotel these days. Through this process, I’m in contact with my contacts at the hotel on a local property and higher brand level, letting them know we’re in the process of booking, who my clients are, and giving them the details. These are people I’ve met in person on property and also see on a regular basis through the industry, which is why the advisor relationship is critical. For some clients, I’ll ask that they are left alone and quickly escorted to their room. For another, I’ll arrange an embroidered robe left in the bathroom with their initials in the hotel’s signature fabric. These are personal touches that make an impact.

I want my clients to arrive the way we arrived in Venice, with the feeling of being known, and nothing left for them to think about. My father is French, and the word I’d use for all this is savoir-faire, knowing how things should be done. I grew up around it, and then I was trained in it.

That’s Passerine. New world speed, old world hospitality.

The hotels and experiences worth crossing the world for. Which room to ask for, and what’s worth it. From an advisor who was the client first.

I Was The Client First