The Secret Ingredient to Our Women's Retreats in France? It's the Relationships.

People sometimes ask me how I design a retreat experience that feels so personal. How does it feel like someone actually knows you, even on the first trip?

The honest answer isn't a system or a checklist. It's relationships. Years of them. Carefully tended ones, on both sides of the experience, with the women who travel with me, and with the remarkable local people who make what I do possible.

That web of relationships is the real infrastructure of each Maison d'Amies women's retreat in France, and beyond. And I don't think I've ever said that plainly enough, so I want to say it now.

The people behind the experience

When you stay at a property I've partnered with, you aren't just renting a space. You're being welcomed by someone I know, trust, and have chosen deliberately. These are women and families I've built genuine relationships with over time, people who care about our guests not as transactions, but as visitors to their home.

That matters more than you might think. This week in Normandy, a surprise heat wave rolled through. There was nothing I could do about the temperature, but within the hour of my message, our property owner had personally brought fans for our bedrooms. Not because she was required to. Because she cared about our comfort, and she and I had built the kind of relationship where that response was just... natural.

No contract creates that. Years of mutual respect do.

There was nothing I could do about the temperature, but within the hour of my message, our property owner had personally brought fans for our bedrooms. Not because she was required to. Because she cared

The details that find their way back to you

Our tour guides remember things. Not because I ask them to keep notes (though we do talk, daily) but because they are genuinely curious about the people they spend time with. The guest who mentioned offhandedly that she loves croissants? She'll find a fresh batch waiting for her, sourced from the best boulangerie in town, on a morning she didn't expect it.

Our chefs pay attention at dinner. Not just to what you finish, but to what lights you up. The dish you photographed, the flavor you kept coming back to. The next evening's menu quietly shifts. It's subtle. Some guests notice; some just feel inexplicably well-fed and cared for without knowing exactly why.

These things don't happen by accident. They happen because I have spent years finding people who are wired this way, and because I've worked hard to build the kind of trust where they feel empowered to act on what they notice.

What I personally bring to France for each women's retreat

I pay attention too. By the end of a first dinner, I usually know whether you're a white wine or a red wine woman. And I promise you: for the rest of the retreat, there will be a chilled bottle of exactly what you love waiting in the fridge.

It sounds small. But I think the small things are actually the big things. They're the evidence that someone is truly present with you, not managing an itinerary, but actually seeing you.

That instinct came from my years as a nurse, long before I became a travel curator. Nursing teaches you to read what people need, often before they say it. It teaches you that genuine care isn't a policy, it's a practice. It's something you either show up with or you don't.

I show up with it. And I've built a team of vendors, partners, and local collaborators who do the same.

The things I can't control, and what I do instead

I want to be honest about something: I cannot control everything. Travel involves weather, logistics, the beautiful unpredictability of being somewhere new. A heat wave arrives. A road is closed. A flight is delayed. Life happens, even in France.

What I can control is how we respond. And what I've learned is that the response is everything. It's where trust is either built or broken.

When something unexpected happens on one of our retreats, I don't hide behind circumstances or hand you a copy of the fine print. I ask: what can I do right now, with what I have, to make this better? And then I do that thing. Every time.

That's not a policy. It's just who I am.

I ask: what can I do right now, with what I have, to make this better? And then I do that thing. Every time.

And sometimes I do everything I can...the fans arrive, I've ordered extra wine...and it's still not the right fit for someone. Travel is deeply personal. What moves one woman to tears leaves another unmoved. I've learned not to take that as failure, but as a reminder that I can't be everything to everyone. What I can do is show up fully, act from genuine care, and trust that the women this experience is meant for will feel it.

Why this matters to me

I founded Maison d'Amies because I believe women deserve travel experiences that genuinely care for them. Not just beautiful ones, but nourishing ones. The kind that send you home feeling more like yourself than when you left.

That vision only works if the relationships are real. If the property owner is a true partner, not just a vendor. If the guide is a friend of the experience, not just a hired hand. If I know you well enough to have your wine chilled before you ask.

These relationships are what I am most proud of. They are the reason guests come back. They are the reason I get messages months later from women saying that a particular trip changed something in them.

They are the heart of everything we do here.