Curated Chaos

Georgia Fewell—and Archibald, the cat—made the delightfully unhinged decision to uproot their lives two years ago, spurred by what Georgia fondly calls ✨her quarter-life crisis✨. In quick succession, her job, her relationship, and her lease were unceremoniously terminated—liberated, if you will—in favor of something far less sensible: moving herself (and one rather indignant tabby) to Italy to pursue an MBA… in wine.

Because Georgia has always believed that if you’re going to hit rock bottom, you may as well do it in a country with Barolo, truffle season, and espresso that will glare at you if you dare order it to-go. And because she’s always believed that travel shouldn’t be a checklist of attractions, but a collection of moments that belong only to you — the kind that can’t be replicated by a hop-on-hop-off bus tour.

So, this isn’t a story about traveling like a tourist. This is about rewriting the script entirely: about slipping into the kind of boutique hotel that feels like it was waiting just for you, choosing the trattoria with no menu because the chef will decide what you eat, ordering the wine you can’t pronounce because you trust the sommelier more than your comfort zone.

This is travel for the people who want their experiences to feel unrepeatable. Who don’t want the same selfie in front of the same monument as the last thousand visitors. Who know that the best luxury isn’t the most expensive — it’s the most particular.

Consider this your new manifesto — chaos, curated lovingly, by yours truly:

G.F.