I mean, I'd love to have a private jet - I know people who fly

The words of Marc Jacobs, though spoken with candor and even playfulness, carry within them a glimpse of human longing and the eternal pull of luxury: “I mean, I’d love to have a private jet—I know people who fly by private jet all the time… I’ve hitched a ride a few times and it is not overrated at all; it’s a great way to travel!” At first glance, these are words of indulgence, of desire for comfort and speed. Yet beneath them lies a deeper truth: that the human heart yearns not only for movement but for ease in that movement, for freedom from constraint, and for the ability to command one’s own course across the skies.

From the days of the ancients, the wealthy and powerful have always sought swifter, safer, and more luxurious means of travel. Kings rode in gilded chariots while peasants walked. Emperors sailed in vast ships laden not only with soldiers but with music, food, and gardens to ease the journey. And so today, in an age of steel and jet engines, the private jet stands as the modern chariot of the elite, a vessel not only of transport but of status and freedom. Jacobs, in honesty, admits its allure—not as fantasy, but as something he has tasted, and found good.

The meaning of the quote lies not merely in envy of the wealthy, but in recognition of the difference between ordinary experience and extraordinary privilege. To fly by private jet is not simply to reach a destination; it is to be freed from the weariness of long lines, from the noise of crowded cabins, from the endless rituals of waiting. It is to step into a realm where travel itself is no longer a burden but a joy, where time bends to the traveler’s will. To experience such a thing, even once, is to feel what humanity has always desired: mastery over the obstacles of distance.

History provides us with a striking example in the journeys of Cleopatra, queen of Egypt. When she sailed the Nile, her barge was not a mere vessel but a palace on water, with purple sails, golden oars, and music filling the air. To her, travel was not simply movement, but an extension of her power and majesty. Those who beheld her journey saw not just a queen, but a goddess arriving in splendor. Just as Jacobs acknowledges that flying in such luxury is “not overrated,” so too did the ancients understand that the form of travel itself could shape the experience, making it not a chore, but a statement of wonder.

And yet, there is humility in Jacobs’s words as well. He does not claim constant access to this privilege but admits he has only hitched a ride a few times. This honesty makes his reflection human and relatable. He acknowledges the gap between his desires and his daily reality, reminding us that to experience something extraordinary, even briefly, can be enough to change how we view the ordinary. Sometimes the memory of the rarest journeys gives light to the routine paths we walk every day.

The lesson for us is clear: do not despise the longing for comfort, for beauty, for ease in life, but do not let it enslave you either. If you are ever given the chance to travel in luxury—whether on a private jet, a fine ship, or even a small but cherished escape—receive it with gratitude. Let it remind you of the heights humanity can reach. But also remember that even the simplest journey, taken with mindfulness and joy, can be filled with wonder. The grandeur of the mode does not outweigh the grandeur of the experience itself.

Thus, let this wisdom be handed down: life will always offer unequal paths—some walk, some ride, some fly in silver chariots across the clouds. Yet what matters most is not the vessel, but the spirit of the traveler. The private jet may dazzle, but even the humblest bus can carry a heart open to beauty and discovery. Seek, therefore, not only the most comfortable way to move, but the most meaningful way to live. For in the end, the greatest luxury is not speed or status, but the joy of the journey itself.