My relationship with TASCHEN dated back long before that day. It came from years of looking at their books as one might gaze at a possible territory. From buying them, collecting them, studying them. From understanding that they weren't just publications, but a way to dignify photography, art, and visual culture with uncommon ambition. And also, in my case, from having worked with their titles in Spain within The Collector's universe, incorporating them as a natural part of a way of living and sharing beauty.
That's why that visit was special. It wasn't just walking into a beautiful store. It was seeing how an editorial project could become a physical space without losing intensity. The framed images, the art editions, the perfectly chosen spines, the dark wood, the precise lighting, the feeling of a contemporary cabinet rather than a conventional bookstore. Everything was placed in a way that didn't impose, but rather marked a direction. It wasn't about simply selling books. It was about building an atmosphere.
And that was probably what impressed me most. That the place celebrated not just the object, but the discernment. In an area globally associated with major fashion houses, high-end hotels, and restaurants, TASCHEN managed to maintain its own language, equally sophisticated, but rooted in visual culture and publishing. Rodeo Drive and its surroundings have made boutique architecture and brand experience part of their identity, and precisely for that reason, finding a home for books there was profoundly inspiring.
I thoroughly enjoyed that day because everything came together: Los Angeles, the campaign, my vital references, the desire to build places with soul, and that intuition that The Collector was not a private oddity, but a sensibility that also existed elsewhere in the world, displayed with conviction and beauty. TASCHEN, in that corner of Beverly Hills, didn't just seem like a bookstore to me. It seemed like proof.