Geneva.
Three years ago.
My mind stumbled backward to a winter evening in a hotel conference room overlooking Lac Léman.
I'd been twenty-three, exhausted from a month of sixteen-hour days at a luxury-brand consultancy.
My thesis advisor had arranged the internship, and I'd been desperate to prove I was more than Michael Harper's indulged daughter playing at academia.
The reception had been polite. My presentation, less so.
A gray-haired executive interrupted my closing remarks.
"This is charming work for an academic exercise," he'd announced. "But luxury heritage is universal. We don't dilute our message by regionalizing it."
I'd wanted to apologize and disappear into the Geneva snow.
Instead, I'd defended my methodology. A heritage brand could preserve its identity while emphasizing different emotional appeals. A Swiss watchmaker's craftsmanship might represent timeless elegance to one audience and intergenerational legacy to another. Different emphasis, same promise.
