Most people arrive in a city with a list. A checklist of sights, restaurants, and must-do experiences—a formula for seeing a place rather than knowing it. They move quickly, collecting moments like souvenirs, rushing from one recommendation to the next. But a city isn’t a museum to be toured or a menu to be sampled. It’s a living, breathing experience, unfolding in layers for those who take the time to notice.
To curate a city is to move differently. It’s not about doing more, but about seeing more—understanding a place through its rhythms, its hidden corners, and the way it makes you feel. It’s choosing to linger in a sun-drenched courtyard rather than chasing the next attraction, finding beauty in the hush of an early morning street, or sensing the weight of history in the texture of an old brick wall. It’s knowing that a city reveals itself not to those who rush through it, but to those who let it speak.
In Charleston—and in every city I have come to know deeply—I have learned to listen. Beyond the postcard-perfect facades and historic landmarks, there is always a deeper essence, waiting to be uncovered. In Charleston, it’s the quiet elegance woven into cobblestone streets, flickering gas lanterns, and intimate piazzas that invite conversation. In Paris, it might be the glow of café windows in the early morning hush; in Kyoto, the rustle of a bamboo grove as the city slows into evening. Each place has a rhythm, a pulse, a story.
To curate a city is to create an experience—one that is deeply felt rather than simply checked off. It is an approach to travel and to life, shaping the way we connect with place and, ultimately, with ourselves. This is the lens through which I see the world, and in the pages ahead, I invite you to slow down, to notice the details, and to experience a city not as a collection of things to do, but as something to be lived.
"To curate a city is to create an experience—one that is deeply felt rather than simply checked off."
Beyond the Checklist: How a City Comes Alive
Curation is often associated with art—selecting, refining, and arranging elements in a way that tells a deeper story. But cities, too, require curation. Not in the sense of editing them to fit an idealized version, but in the way we engage with them. A city isn’t just a place; it’s an experience shaped by how we move through it, what we choose to notice, and the depth of our presence within it.
To curate a city is to step beyond the itinerary and into the rhythm of a place. It’s paying attention to the details that others overlook—the way the air shifts before a summer rain, the ritual of an early morning baker dusting flour from his hands, the hush of a hidden courtyard in the late afternoon light. It’s allowing a city to unfold slowly, revealing its essence through observation and experience rather than just activity.
When I curate a city, I’m not simply identifying the “best” restaurants or most beautiful streets—I’m uncovering the layers that make a place feel alive. It’s about recognizing that the true heart of a city isn’t found in its most photographed landmarks but in the quiet, unscripted moments that breathe life into its streets.
Charleston, for example, is often celebrated for its grand homes and storied past, but its true soul is found in subtler places: the flickering glow of gas lanterns on a misty evening, the creak of a wooden floorboard in a historic home, the scent of salt carried on the wind from the harbor. These are the details that make a place unforgettable—not because they are listed in a guidebook, but because they are felt.
Curation, at its core, is about perception. It is about choosing what to highlight, what to linger on, and how to create an experience that is more than just movement through space. It is a way of seeing—a way of being—that transforms any place into something richer, more meaningful, and ultimately, more alive.
The Elements of a Curated City Experience
A city speaks in layers. Some are obvious—the grandeur of a historic square, the hum of a bustling café—but others require a more practiced eye, a slower approach. To curate a city is to train oneself to notice these layers, to move beyond what is merely seen and into what is felt. It’s about creating an experience that lingers, an impression that stays long after one has left.
There are certain elements that shape the way we experience a place, whether consciously or not. When we begin to attune ourselves to them, we move differently, experiencing cities in a way that is both deeper and more immersive.
The Rhythms of a City. Every city has a pulse, a rhythm dictated by time of day, season, and movement. The same street that feels electric at dusk may feel hushed and contemplative in the early morning light. A well-curated experience is not just about where one goes, but when.
The Intimacy of the Hidden. The most meaningful experiences often happen in the spaces just beyond the obvious. A tucked-away bookshop where time slows, a hidden courtyard where laughter lingers, an unmarked alleyway where the scent of jasmine drifts through the air.
Savoring the Senses. Cities are felt not just through sight, but through scent, sound, and texture. The salt-heavy air of a harbor at dawn, the echo of footsteps on cobblestone, the way candlelight flickers against old plaster walls.
The Role of Storytelling. A place is never just its present—it carries its past within it. The stories behind a street, a building, a tradition, all shape the way we feel in a place.
Connection Over Consumption. Many people experience a city by collecting—gathering restaurant reservations, landmark visits, and shopping bags. But the cities that stay with us are the ones we experience through connection, not consumption.
"A city reveals itself not to those who rush through it, but to those who let it speak."
How Charleston & ME Embodies Curation
Curation is more than selecting what is beautiful or notable—it is about shaping how an experience unfolds. It is the difference between simply listing places and designing a way of encountering them.
With Charleston & ME, my role is not just to recommend places, but to curate a way of moving through Charleston that is slower, richer, and deeply felt—one that invites presence, connection, and a sense of belonging.
Charleston is often described as a city of history, charm, and beauty—but to truly know it, one must step beyond the expected. The grand homes and pastel facades are part of its story, but so are the quiet moments: the hush of morning mist over the harbor, the whisper of palmettos in a late-summer breeze, the warm glow of a carriage lantern at dusk.
To curate Charleston is to offer more than a guide; it is to offer a lens. Charleston & ME is not about covering the most ground, but about experiencing the city with intention—helping visitors and locals alike move beyond the surface and into the heart of what makes this place truly special.
"A city is not something to check off a list. It is something to be known."
An Invitation to See Differently
To curate a city is to move with intention—to step beyond the obvious, to listen for the quiet stories, to allow a place to shape you as much as you shape your experience of it.
This is the way I move through cities, and it has changed the way I see the world. My invitation to you? Move with presence. Let places shape you. Experience the world not just as a traveler, but as a curator of your own experiences.
Because a city is not something to check off a list. It is something to be known.
And if you take the time, it will reveal itself to you.
Curated with intention, designed for connection,
~ Monica Edwards