A six-month global finishing program for women who, like me, are done. Emotionally. Spiritually. Geographically. You don't need a plan — you need to land somewhere beautiful before you talk yourself out of it. — Paige
"You can absolutely quit your job, sell your things, and move to Lisbon with your boyfriend and two cats — the money always works itself out." Paige · Founder · @paige
From wine fluency to visa arbitrage, our program teaches you to conduct yourself as if money has always been — and will always be — someone else's problem.
Identifying the right 18th-century stone farmhouse before it appears on Instagram. Includes a primer on "good bones" and why the pool is non-negotiable.
How to order a €340 bottle with the quiet shrug of someone who has already forgotten it exists. Pronouncing "Gevrey-Chambertin" with no tells.
A light and breezy introduction to the 183-day rule, the Schengen shuffle, and why your accountant simply adores Portugal right now.
She has been to fourteen countries this year. She is, she's pretty sure, doing great. Probably. Just — let her explain.
"I quit my job in 2017 and I have genuinely never been happier. I mean — I've been anxious. Pretty much constantly. But that's separate. That's a separate conversation."
Paige left corporate life nine years ago with what she calls "not a plan — a feeling, which is better." She now divides her time between the Algarve, a rented ski chalet in Verbier, and the passive income from a small real-estate portfolio (12 rental units, inherited + acquired during 2009) that she does not, as a rule, discuss on the podcast.
"I didn't have a plan. I had a vibration. I landed in Lisbon with two suitcases, a ficus, and — honestly? Enough savings for about eleven weeks. I figured it out. You just figure it out. You have to trust that the universe is going to provide. And also, separately, that your father is."
Host of the Unbothered podcast. Please do not email her. She will not reply. She may, however, voice-memo you back at 2:40am her time, from a moving car.
Lightly edited voice memos. She sends a lot of them. They come in at strange hours, from strange countries, usually without a discernible plan.
"I hadn't seen the inside. I'd seen the outside. The light was good. The neighbor was watering a lemon tree. I called my dad from a pastelaria and I said — listen. I'm doing it. Don't make it weird. Just — don't make it weird."
"It was supposed to be eight days. I stayed three weeks. I had to move a podcast, two doctor's appointments, and — well, a few things. But you can always move things. Things are moveable. That's the lesson. That's really the lesson."
"You cannot check the price of a villa in the moment. You can only feel the villa. Check the price afterward — in the car, with the windows up, with a friend driving. If you look at the price in front of the host, you have lost. They know. They can tell."
"I didn't know whose boat. I still don't. I spent four days on a boat, and I have five new friends and one — one small, ongoing concern about a laptop that may or may not be in a cabin. That's just — that's just the kind of week it was. Honestly."
"I was in an Uber to JFK and I bought a one-way to Charles de Gaulle. First class — and I cannot stress this enough — because there were no other seats. I landed with a tote bag and a charger. The universe took care of the rest. And also, separately, my dad."
"You have to reach a point where you do not open the banking app. You just don't. You're in Santorini, the sun is a very particular color, and the app is going to say what it's going to say. Let it. Let the app say its thing. You're not there."
"You can absolutely quit your job, sell your things, and move somewhere you can't pronounce. The money works itself out. Or it doesn't, and you come home quietly. But you will have gone. That's the only thing nobody can take from you." Paige · voice memo · 11:42pm · Amalfi coast
Unedited moments from our 2025 cohort. (Lightly edited. Some moments. Many filters.)
