Journal


This Journal is where my thoughts take flight. Here, I share personal insights and reflections that form the very DNA of Bespoke Vienna. On a monthly basis, expect discoveries and a living conversation I cultivate through personal reflection, inviting you to walk with me.

Journal Entries

March 2025
Journal Entry 1

The Quiet Art of Beginnings:
Finding Presence in the Seed

April 2025
Journal Entry 2

The Unseen Threads:
Cultivating Connection in a World of Fragments

May 2025
Journal Entry 3

The Echo of Perspective:
How Our Standpoint Shapes What Resonates

June 2025
Journal Entry 4

The Universe in a Detail:
Discovering Grandeur in the Minute

July 2025
Journal Entry 5

The Unfolding Blueprint:
Where Deep Roots Meet True Purpose

August 2025
Journal Entry 6

The Inherent Language of Excellence:
Navigating the New, Appreciating the True

September 2025
Journal Entry 7

Tema & Variazioni:
The Art of Seeing Beyond the Label

October 2025
Journal Entry 8

Through Invisible Filters:
The Silent Architects Of Our Reality

November 2025
Upcoming Journal Entry

The Weight of Integrity.
When the Foundation is Tested

March 2025: The Quiet Art of Beginnings

Finding Presence in the Seed

Early Bespoke Vienna Logo Sketch

Bespoke Vienna Logo in 2019

The grandest visions often begin in silence, in the unseen. When we behold a masterpiece – be it a cathedral soaring to the heavens, a symphony resonating through time, or a perfectly balanced bespoke object – we rarely consider the intricate patience, the quiet deliberation, that marked its very first breath.

As Bespoke Vienna unfolds its layers, inviting you to rediscover authentic connection through heritage and craft, I find myself reflecting on this same truth. My own journey, like perhaps many of yours, began not with fanfare, but with a deeply felt need, a single potent seed of an idea: to bring mindfulness and genuine presence back into our relationship with the objects that shape our lives.

This particular seed truly began to sprout in late 2024. After a decade of nurturing blurred visions and occasional passionate outbursts about the things that have drawn me my entire life, I was finally compelled to articulate it all for a chapter in Kate Butler’s book, "Believe Beyond." Written last year in October and November, and titled "The Essence of Things," it was the very first time I put into concrete words the philosophy that had resided, unspoken, within me for so long. To then see this deeply personal work promoted on a billboard in Times Square at the end of February 2025 felt like a surreal, larger-than-life validation.

Yet, returning home from New York City the real "quiet art of beginning" began. The grand gesture of Times Square faded, and I was left with the profound, solitary question: How do I actually start? There was no entrepreneurial blueprint to follow, no mentor to guide my steps, no budget to lean on. It was just me, confronting the blank canvas of an enterprise, figuring out how to shape a concept and bring this vision to life, piece by piece.

This initial spark, however vibrant, holds within it the blueprint for everything that will follow. Like the ancient artisan, who first conceives the form within the raw material, or the botanist who sees the towering oak within the acorn, true creation starts with a profound understanding of the essence. And just as the grandest structures evolve from a foundational stone, so too does a brand grow from its first, formative visual whispers. Accompanying this entry, you'll see a glimpse of where Bespoke Vienna’s visual identity began, an early sketch of its very first logo, a quiet emblem of the seed from which everything you see today has blossomed.

There are moments, however, when this commitment to the essence feels like an emptying. When, after pouring all one's clarity and passion into distilling an idea, the creative well seems momentarily quiet. It's a natural ebb in the rhythm of profound work. But I've learned that this is not a void; it is, in fact, a fertile ground. An empty canvas inviting its first deliberate brushstroke. An uncarved block patiently awaiting its first, precise chisel mark.

This initial quiet, this deliberate pause, is where the integrity of true quality is forged. It's in this sacred space that authenticity is protected from the fleeting demands of speed or superficiality.

As you embark on your own journey with Bespoke Vienna, I invite you to consider the quiet art of beginnings in your own life. What cherished object in your home has a story that began imperceptibly, in a craftsman's quiet contemplation, or in a thoughtful decision long ago? Can you find presence in its origin, and in doing so, rediscover its profound significance?

This exploration, like all authentic endeavors, starts with a single, mindful step. Welcome to the quiet art of beginning.

April 2025: The Unseen Threads

Cultivating Connection in a World of Fragments

My Lichfield Cup

My Lichfield Cup

The world, in its swiftness, often feels like a mosaic shattered into countless bright, yet disconnected, pieces. We are bombarded with information, fleeting interactions, and a ceaseless churn of the new. In this landscape of fragments, how do we weave a life rich with authentic connection – not just with people, but with the very objects that populate our daily existence?

After reflecting on the quiet art of beginnings, on the essence of things that start small and profound, my mind turns to the intricate dance of connection. It's rarely a grand pronouncement; more often, it's about recognizing the unseen threads that bind. Like the hidden warp and weft of a masterful textile, or the subtle sympathetic vibration between an artisan's hands and the material, true connection often resides in what is quietly observed.

I often think of a particular cup I own, crafted by a potter in Lichfield, UK – a true potters' land, steeped in the history of craftsmanship. My journey to that cup was, in many ways, a series of seemingly disconnected fragments, yet in hindsight, they form a vivid tapestry. My Master's degree in Fine & Decorative Art introduced me to the unexpected fascination I developed for 18th-century ceramics like Wedgwood's Jasper Ware. This led to a deep admiration for Josiah Wedgwood himself, and the astonishing intellectual ferment of the Lunar Society, whose most prominent figure, Erasmus Darwin, resided in Lichfield. Both Erasmus Darwin and the Lunar Men remain a profound inspiration for me; their boundless curiosity and larger-than-life visions continue to fuel my own mission.

Years later, a compelling opportunity led me to Lichfield. I took the train, visited the venerable cathedral, and immersed myself in Erasmus Darwin's house. Later that day, I attended a meeting on the first floor of a local building. As I was leaving, drawn by an unseen thread, I simply walked into the potter's shop occupying the ground floor below. There, I found my cup – hand-thrown, with a delicate sculpture on its rim depicting the iconic group of trees often associated with Lichfield, as the potter himself explained to me, sharing its story.

That cup is more than just a vessel. It embodies the convergence of disparate experiences – academic pursuit, historical fascination, unexpected opportunity, and serendipitous discovery. It speaks of the enduring legacy of visionaries and artisans, woven into my own personal narrative across many years. In discovering these subtle ties, we begin to mend the fragments, cultivating a tapestry of life that is truly, authentically connected.

May 2025: The Echo of Perspective

How Our Standpoint Shapes What Resonates

Karawanks mountain range facing Slovenia

Karawanks mountain range facing Slovenia
© mp

We live in a world that constantly shifts, yet within that flux, certain truths endure. Among them is the profound power of intention – the conscious energy we imbue into our creations, our choices, and our very way of being. This intention doesn't simply fade; it leaves an echo: a subtle reverberation that shapes the world around us.

Although I live in the Austrian lowlands, I do come across the occasional mountain scenery, and my thoughts often wander to those colossal witnesses to time, where the very word "echo" takes on a visceral meaning. A call across a valley returns, diminished perhaps, but undeniably a direct consequence of the initial sound. Similarly, every act of genuine creation, every choice made with true intention, sends out a distinct vibration. This vibration – this echo – travels through time, influencing those who encounter it, carrying the story of its origin and the values poured into its making.

Yet, I've learned that the nature of that echo, and indeed, what we perceive from the world, profoundly depends on our perspective. Mountains themselves, to me, are a powerful reminder of this. Their vast grandeur, their timelessness, their silent witnessing of ages – these qualities help me put my own fleeting concerns into perspective, reminding me of a larger, enduring truth. They draw me in, offering a sense of scale and wisdom.

However, my own experience has shown me how drastically this feeling can shift. I once lived in a Swiss mountain village where I was closely encircled by towering peaks; they felt as if they loomed and weighed heavily, creating a palpable pressure. It was only when I ventured to the valleys below, or to plateaus offering expansive views, that I could breathe freely again. There, with the mountains literally "backing me up" and an endless horizon stretching before me, the very same peaks felt inspiring and supportive. This contrast vividly illustrates how deeply our immediate environment, and our personal standpoint within it, can shape our inner world.

This duality is a powerful lesson. The same mountains, the same objects, the same circumstances, yield completely different echoes depending on our standpoint, our current state, our willingness to shift our gaze. Our intention, too, creates an echo, but how that echo is received and interpreted – by others, and by ourselves – is constantly filtered through perspective.

June 2025: The Universe in a Detail

Discovering Grandeur in the Minute

Detail of a Hydrangea blossom

Detail of a Hydrangea blossom on my terrace

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

William Blake (1757-1827),
"Auguries of Innocence"

These lines by William Blake have been a constant hum in my mind this month, particularly as I find myself immersed in the vibrant, bursting life of my garden. Blake's profound invitation to discover boundless wonder in the smallest, most unassuming details resonates deeply with me. Here, it's not just a grain of sand, but every living thing, every natural element, that reveals its own quiet universe.

In awe and wonder I indulge in the almost defiant complexity within the first blossom of the oleander on my terrace, or the joyful, intricate structure of a snapdragon's bloom. Each perfectly formed petal of a geranium, each precisely layered cell of a eucalyptus leaf, is a masterpiece of design. Then there's the humble blade of grass – a slender, unassuming spire reaching for the sun, a miniature triumph of nature. My rockery reveals ancient narratives in every crevice and crystalline gleam. And the singing of the birds, though ephemeral, is a symphony of pure, unbridled life. Even the perfect spiral of a Roman snail's house, a tiny architectural marvel, speaks of proportion and enduring form. In these myriad details, I truly see a "World" contained within each.

This experience, of finding such immensity in what often goes unnoticed, brings to mind a fascinating philosophical idea from Max Planck, one of the founding fathers of quantum science. He pondered whether our understanding of the external world, even what we call "natural laws" might ultimately be reflections of our own perceptions – convenient frameworks we construct to make sense of what we experience.

This isn't to say these wonders aren't "real" but rather, that our perception isn't just a passive reception. It's an active, creative process. When I look at that blossoming oleander, or listen to the birdsong, my eyes, my ears, my mind, and my learned appreciation for beauty and structure, all converge to create the "world" I perceive within them. The laws of nature are there, yes, but my experience of them is uniquely shaped by my own consciousness.

Allow your perceptions to take flight, and you may just discover an unexpected "world", an infinity, held in the palm of your hand.

July 2025: The Unfolding Blueprint

Where Deep Roots Meet True Purpose

Lobmeyr Candy Dish by Oswald Haerdtl

CANDY DISH Oswald Haerdtl for Lobmeyr

The past few weeks have brought a profound sense of coming full circle, a quiet validation that the path I walk today has roots far deeper than I had perceived. It’s like discovering my life’s unfolding blueprint. The design that has been present for decades by now, having subtly guided my steps without me being aware, or maybe with the occasional susceptive hint. Until now. This retrospective with its undeniable impact of my vision feels like one of the most assuring things I have ever come to realize.

My mind has been circling back to the summer of 2001, when I was just seventeen. I spent seven weeks interning at the UK company of a remarkable French figure, a mentor of sorts, who was then meticulously transforming his château in Southern France into an Art Nouveau and Art Déco museum. That period, the aesthetics, the artists, the groundbreaking Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes in Paris 1925 was part of my research as intern and it all captivated me. It felt familiar, like discovering a part of myself I hadn't known was missing yet instantly recognized as home. This early fascination stayed with me, throughout my twenties, weaving through my Art History studies, and feeling incredibly comforting throughout my exploring thirties.

Then, just last month, as Bespoke Vienna celebrated Lobmeyr as our "company of the month" with a focus on glass, the circle completed itself. I learned that Lobmeyr, an icon of Austrian craftsmanship, had participated in that very 1925 Paris exhibition. Hearing a dedicated curator from the MAK discuss Lobmeyr's participation, followed by a tour of their showcased exhibits, felt like a direct conversation across time. It was a tangible link between my formative past and my present mission. Besides the familiar, almost nostalgic feeling of “coming home” it somehow served as the last sign to fully understand: The roots have been laid many years ago, I unconsciously walked the path I was meant to walk and laid the foundation of my endeavors with Bespoke Vienna at the age of 17. It couldn’t be more authentic, and I know this foundation is unshakeable.

This sense of a deeper design in life also resonates strongly with another recent reflection: the feedback I’ve received on Bespoke Vienna's introductory questionnaire. Some test subjects found it "too intense," even voicing their discomfort with its "soul-searching" nature. And while it might seem counterintuitive to highly welcome such comments, it only reinforces my conviction. This questionnaire is designed to bypass the superficial, to shed the autopilot, and to invite a genuine, profound self-exploration. If this means bravery to some, adventure to others or the ultimate nudge to finally dive into long suppressed aspects of oneself, so be it. One the other hand, if one is not prepared to meet themselves honestly in these questions, then Bespoke Vienna is not the right path for them. Bespoke Vienna aims to confront intensity, truly delving beyond the surface; that's where the truths are to be found.

My path, from a curious seventeen-year-old in the orbit of a visionary's project to building Bespoke Vienna, has consistently shown me that true value is found in the enduring, the authentic, and the willingness to explore what lies beneath. This is the blueprint I follow, and it’s the journey I invite you to embark upon: where your deepest roots meet your truest purpose.

August 2025: The Inherent Language of Excellence

Navigating the New, Appreciating the True

A Harley Davidson V-Rod motorcycle.

My first encounter with the V-Rod in August 2024

Recently my husband and I went on a motorcycle trip to the former Roman colony of Carnuntum in Lower Austria. It was a day filled with the roar of an engine, the rush of wind (and a stormy hairstyle, despite the helmet), and an unexpected immersion into the ever-shifting nature of labelled identity and experience.

There’s a funny paradox about labels. I generally dislike them; they often distract from the true essence that lies beneath, an essence that requires no external definition. Yet, society often prompts us to adopt them, to assume roles as we move through different situations. In these moments, labels can feel like costumes we put on, or sometimes, even chosen masks. As I donned my new biker jacket and gloves, I giggled. If I had to label myself in that moment, it would be “the biker's wife” – a label that, to me, is hilariously apt and surprisingly liberating in its simplicity. I’m sure I was still “the biker’s wife” to the gentlemen at the next table who greeted us heartily (a typical trait of Austrian countryside mentality) when my husband and I, carrying our helmets, settled down for refreshments after having enjoyed our Carnuntum tour. How will the label for the next encounter look like? Niece, Art Historian, Entrepreneur? This constant shift between roles, each with its own set of expectations and perceived expertise, is truly fascinating.

Speaking of expertise, my husband’s bike, a Harley Davidson V-Rod 100th-anniversary edition, is a testament to masterful expertise. He acquired it in summer 2024. The moment I saw it, even as a complete layperson knowing nothing about motorbikes, I instantly recognized its undeniable beauty, the perfection of its streamlined aesthetics, even the inherent power in its sound. It’s a piece of engineering marvel and design excellence, born from a seven-year development process in collaboration with Porsche. This isn’t just a motorcycle; it’s a living piece of craftsmanship and heritage, speaking an inherent language of enduring quality. It’s fascinating how truly masterful objects communicate their value, often without a single word.

This recognition of excellence, however, isn't always innate. When it came time to choose my own gear, I was completely out of my element. "Choose your jacket," my husband said when we entered the supplier’s store, and I felt like an idiot. Beyond basic protection, I had no idea what truly mattered. I found myself asking him, "Please shop with me like you would buy shoes for a five-year-old." It was a moment of profound vulnerability, a stark reminder that when we step outside our own expertise, we are truly like a child, starting from scratch.

This feeling of navigating the new (and perhaps even adding an unexpected label to our personal library) – of trusting guidance in unfamiliar territory – was amplified by the ride itself. Traversing the deep, rich history of Lower Austria on such an unfamiliar means of transportation, holding onto my husband, holding onto dear life itself – because if you let go, you truly understand your mortality – is a unique experience. You realize how present and vulnerable the human body becomes – how every aggregation of cells, every intricate system, is intensely aware of its surroundings, held together with an acute sense of its own exposed reality. This isn't the shielded transit of a car, a cage merely transporting you from A to B. Nor is it the slow, contemplative pace of a simple bicycle. It's the unique combination of raw exposure and exhilarating speed that truly heightens the sensation of connection, forging an immediate bond with the road, the air, and the vastness of the landscape. And as we rode towards the former Roman colony of Carnuntum, that feeling was profound.

Later, walking the scorching Roman premises of Carnuntum – which are totally worth a visit, by the way; imagine Roman thermal baths re-erected and ready for you to explore, including heated pools! – I felt a different kind of connection to history. It wasn't about the speed or exposure, but about an immersive experience that allowed me to bypass the simple label "ancient ruins" and step into a living past. Just as I consciously shifted roles from "biker's wife" to "visitor," I was able to experience the essence of the site beyond its historical label.

This journey through labels and experiences brought a fascinating insight: how much we rely on trust and guidance when we’re in unfamiliar territory. Just as I needed a knowledgeable guide to help me appreciate the nuances of biker gear and the profound sensations of the ride, so too do we all need trusted insights when seeking true quality and authentic connection beyond our usual spheres. My own journey with that Harley and through Carnuntum, moving from initial admiration to a deeper understanding forged through its story and direct experience, mirrors journeys of discovery I have witnessed in others.

Whether it’s recognizing the profound beauty of a meticulously crafted object, or finding your own authentic path and the true self beneath the accumulated labels, the journey begins with an open mind and a willingness to learn. It’s about appreciating the inherent language of excellence, navigating the new with courage, and ultimately, connecting with what is truly, unshakeably true.

September 2025: Tema & Variazioni

The Art of Seeing Beyond the Label

A rosary.

My "necklace with a cross"

People no longer know how to see.
Knowing how to see means knowing how to find.
In front of the most disparate objects it is essential
to find and choose those that are of interest for
the type of things you are doing and searching for.

Piero Fornasetti (1913-1988)

These words, from the visionary artist Piero Fornasetti, resonate deeply with me these days. Fornasetti (one of my all-time favourite artists), with his iconic "Tema e Variazioni" series, mastered the art of seeing infinite worlds within a single, recurring image (that of opera singer Lina Cavalieri). He understood that true depth isn't in endless novelty, but in the boundless meaning we can uncover when we truly look. Yet, his lament about the modern inability to "see" resonates perhaps more profoundly today than ever. In a world saturated with fleeting images and superficial classifications, are we losing the skill to perceive the inherent narratives, the cultural echoes, the very soul embedded within the objects around us?

My mind recently circled back to this question with a startling clarity, sparked by a small, seemingly innocuous exchange involving a cherished object. The object in question is a rosary – beautiful, heavy silver beads shaped as rose buds, and one of the nicest gifts I have ever received. Without focusing on its highly devotional context, to me it holds immense personal value, a tangible reminder of a deeply meaningful connection and a poignant act of kindness from nearly two decades ago, when I worked as assistant to the cruise director on board a ship.

While tidying, this very rosary lay on a table. My visiting step-daughter (11) picked it up, genuinely curious, and asked, "What's this necklace with a cross?"

In that moment, I wasn't shocked by her unfamiliarity with a religious object. What truly struck me was the immediate, unburdening act of re-labeling it, stripping it of its profound personal history and its universal symbolic weight. It was reduced to its bare, superficial components. Of course, a rosary is far more than a "necklace with a cross"; it is a tangible journey, a mnemonic device for prayer, a universal symbol of faith, endurance, and quiet contemplation across countless decades, generations, and cultures. Its very form tells a story of human belief, and in my case, a unique story of unexpected personal grace.

This small encounter became a powerful variation on Fornasetti's theme. It illuminated how easily we can lose sight of the deeper context, the invisible threads that imbue objects with significance. We categorize, we simplify, and in doing so, we often silence the inherent language these items speak. The mass-produced item today is often born without such an echo, designed for fleeting function rather than enduring meaning. But even objects rich with heritage can become mere "things" if our gaze remains on the surface.

To truly "see" is an act of intention, a willingness to slow down and listen to innate silent symphonies, of history, of craftsmanship, of personal meaning. It is to find the unique narrative that sets one object apart, just as Fornasetti found endless fascination in a single face. It is about understanding that a rosary, a piece of porcelain, a hand-stitched shoe, or a beautifully bound book, is not just its material or its immediate function. It is a confluence of human ingenuity, cultural currents, dedication, and story – a world contained in a detail.

October 2025: Through Invisible Filters

The Silent Architects Of Our Reality

Stylized image of an interconnected brain

Interconnectedness made visible

Autumn has settled over Vienna, painting the streets in shades of ochre and rust. There’s a particular quality to the light now, soft and diffused, inviting us to look closer, to truly see. Yet, how often do we actually do that? How often do we move through these familiar scenes, or indeed, through our own everyday lives, without truly perceiving what's right in front of us?

This question has been resonating deeply with me lately, especially as I reflect on what it means to live beyond the autopilot. We've talked about how the autopilot keeps us safe and efficient, allowing us to navigate without constant conscious effort. But there's a fascinating, almost paradoxical, side to this efficiency that neuroscience is continually revealing: our brains are master filters.

Imagine your brain as an incredibly sophisticated editor. Every second, it's bombarded with millions of bits of information – sights, sounds, smells, textures. If it tried to process all of it consciously, we’d be overwhelmed, paralyzed. So, in its infinite wisdom, it learns to prioritize. It builds intricate systems of filters, constantly deciding what's important enough to bring to our conscious attention and what can be safely relegated to the background, or even entirely ignored.

These filters are brilliant for survival. They allow us to spot a sudden movement, hear our name in a crowded room, or tie our shoelaces without thinking. But here's where the autopilot truly gains its hold: once a pattern is established, once an object or a routine becomes familiar, our brain's filters become incredibly efficient at pushing it out of conscious awareness. It says, "Seen that before. No new threats. Nothing to actively notice here."

This means that the beautiful detailing on a familiar building, the unique texture of a well-loved piece of furniture, the subtle shift in light over a morning coffee – these profound moments, rich with potential connection and meaning, can simply be filtered out. They become part of the silent, unexamined backdrop of our everyday. We're physically present, but our conscious perception is adrift, missing the deeper layers that make our world truly ours.

It’s not a failing; it’s just how our brain is wired for efficiency. But recognizing these invisible filters is the first step towards choosing to engage beyond them. It's an invitation to pause, to consciously override the brain's efficient shortcuts, and to allow the hidden stories, the authentic qualities, and the profound connections to emerge. When we learn to consciously adjust our filters, that's when our world, our story, truly begins to gain its deeper dimension.