Perfection’s existence weighs upon the shoulders of imperfect moments, of imperfect people. To appreciate perfection is to recognize both itself and its antithesis.

Luxury exists then, not as a result of pure bloodline achieved by the art of selective breeding, but rather by the blood, sweat, and fortitude of those who rise above the weight of its demands, and sit beneath the shelter of its wings every working day. These are the laborers and contenders worthy of reverence; it’s my aim to find them, and to honor their legacies.