A Brief Coffee Table Chat | In Defense of Meaning One-on-One with Jesús Parrilla In a world where luxury is often reduced to polished surfaces and instant gratification, Jesús Parrilla reminds us that hospitality is not a checklist—it is a calling. As an expert who treats travel as a form of remembering rather than escaping, Parrilla invites us to rethink what it means to host, to journey, and to truly belong. This conversation is not about design trends or brand campaigns. It’s about defending the invisible threads—the ones that connect place to memory, silence to story, host to land. Through quiet conviction and lived experience, Parrilla reveals why feeling, not function, should be the foundation of every guest experience.  In this slow and thoughtful exchange, he speaks to the heart of what we do—and why we must continue to do it with care. You’ve regularly said that hospitality isn’t a product—it’s a worldview. How do you ensure that our spaces and services continue to stir something within, especially in an industry often driven by function over feeling We design to provoke memory, not just movement. If a space does not stir something inside you, then it has no reason to exist. The danger in hospitality today is that it has become a checklist of comforts, where utility replaces emotion, where technology and convenience dull curiosity, and superficiality often overshadows depth. For us, every scent, every silence, every surface must feel like it belongs to the story. Not ours alone, but the story of the place. We are not interested in creating what is trendy or cool. We are interested in creating what lingers. What is felt days, even months later, in quiet reflection. That requires discipline. That demands depth of perspective, not just designing. 2. In a world addicted to speed, what does it take to defend the idea that remoteness is sacred—and that the journey itself is part of the experience, not just a means to an end It takes a great deal of conviction. And a willingness to be misunderstood. Remoteness is not a logistical challenge for us. It is a spiritual decision. It reminds the traveler that effort matters. That arrival should not be instant but earned. When you strip away the shortcuts, something ancient reawakens in people. They walk slower. They observe more. They speak less. And in that slowness, they begin to belong. We are not in the business of removing the distance. We are in the business of making the distance meaningful. When the path itself becomes the teacher, then the destination becomes sacred. 3. With so many brands chasing aesthetics or clever messaging, how do you protect the soul of our storytelling—ensuring that what we say is always rooted in what we live?” The story is not the brochure. It is the way the place breathes. It is the way a local guide pronounces the name of a mountain. It is what is left unsaid in a welcome ritual. We protect our story by first making sure it is real. That it was not written at a desk but discovered on foot. Every message must come from something lived. If not, it is just decoration. We are not here to entertain. We are here to remember and to pay homage to the land and the cultures that give the place its soul. And when storytelling becomes a tool for remembering, it stops being a strategy and becomes a form of care. That is the difference. 4. With so many brands chasing aesthetics or clever messaging, how do you protect the soul of our storytelling—ensuring that what we say is always rooted in what we live?” Hosting has been reduced to service metrics. To algorithms and scripted greetings. But true hospitality cannot be automated. It is an ancient act of generosity. An offering of presence. To host is to hold space for another human being. To make them feel seen without needing to speak. To share what is local not as a spectacle, but as a gesture. We train our teams to be guardians of this ritual, not performers of it. And perhaps most importantly, we do not believe the host stands apart from the place. The host is the place. Their voice, their knowledge, their kindness carries the land’s memory forward. That is not transactional. That is sacred.

A brief Coffee Table Chat | What If Luxury Could Feel Again? One-on-One with Javier Rojas Fresh from the Hotel & Resort Design South (HRDS) event in Miami—where he served on the Advisory Board—architect and Chief Creative Officer Javier Rojas-Rodriguez returns not just with insights, but with questions that linger. What if luxury wasn’t about polish, but presence? What if design wasn’t a statement, but a conversation? In this reflection, Javier challenges the industry’s obsession with function, asking us to make room for emotion, memory, and meaning. Through the lens of Experiential Hospitality, he calls for a return to what’s deeply human—and a future of design that doesn’t just impress, but resonates. You’ve attended many conferences over the years, but this time you stood there representing, for the first time, Experiential Hospitality, a company built not just around design, but around emotion, movement, and exploration. How did that shift in lens affect the way you heard the conversations around you? It was a somewhat different experience this time. This time it wasn’t just about representing a company but about embodying a point of view, and a manifesto. In the past, I’d attend conferences thinking about space, guest experiences, construction, or strategy. This time, I was listening for emotion. For how people spoke (or didn’t) about memory, about sensory experience, about the stories behind the spaces. The conversations around me suddenly had more layers. A discussion about materials became a conversation about texture, touch, and childhood memories. A panel on guest engagement became a contemplation on anticipation and surprise. It made me realize that so many in our industry are craving deeper connections—but the industry itself is still using the language of function. With Experiential Hospitality, we’re trying to shift that language. It’s not just about how things are done, but about why and how they’re felt. And standing in that lens, I could feel the difference. 2. Coming from a career where placemaking often began with vision boards and materials, what does it feel like now to represent an analog brand where the place often comes first – and the design must listen before it speaks? It feels like a return to something deeply human. In my previous work, placemaking often began in abstraction—mood boards, materials, aspirations projected onto blank space. Now, I’m learning to approach design more like a conversation than a proclamation. The land, the community, the spirit of the place—they speak first. My role is to listen carefully, to notice what’s already there, and to shape design that feels inevitable rather than imposed. It’s less about storytelling and more about story finding. There’s a humility to it, and also a kind of liberation: the place leads, and we follow. 3. After sitting in rooms filled with conversations about scale, luxury, and innovation, what conversations do you think are still missing, or not being asked loudly enough? I think the conversations that are still missing—or not being asked loudly enough—are the ones about meaning. What does it mean to build at scale, or to create luxury, in a world where cultural and ecological fragility are escalating? We rarely interrogate the emotional, social, and environmental cost of our ambition. There needs to be more space for asking: Who is being left out of the narrative of innovation? What does luxury look like when it’s rooted in empathy, not just exclusivity? How do we measure success beyond aesthetics or ROI? The conversations that are missing are the quieter ones—about dignity, memory, cultural continuity, and restraint. And maybe those aren’t just missing—they’re intentionally avoided. So, I’d say: let’s make room for those. 4. What insights did you walk away with from these events – not just as a creative mind, but now as a brand guardian of something that challenges the norms of luxury hospitality? What struck me most was how essential intention is—both in creation and in operations. As a creative, I’ve always looked for beauty, innovation, and emotion. But also, in the role of brand guardian, those elements must also align with a deeper purpose. These events confirmed for me that the future of luxury isn’t about excess or perfection—it’s about resonance, relevance, and responsibility.