Someone told me that when they go to Vermont, they feel like

“Someone told me that when they go to Vermont, they feel like they're home. I'm that way at Saks.” — in this sparkling line, Caroline Rhea, the comedienne of warmth and wit, turns laughter into revelation. On the surface, her words dance lightly — a jest about material comfort, about the glittering allure of the famed department store, Saks Fifth Avenue. Yet beneath the humor lies a deeper reflection on human nature: that home is not always a place of wood and stone, but a feeling, a moment of belonging, a mirror where one recognizes the self with joy.

In the ancient world, philosophers and poets often spoke of homecoming — not merely as a return to a physical dwelling, but as a journey of the soul toward familiarity, peace, and delight. Rhea, through humor, translates this timeless yearning into modern form. To some, the mountains of Vermont evoke serenity; to her, the velvet aisles of Saks offer that same comfort. What she truly reveals is not superficiality, but the universality of the search for sanctuary — that place, or even that experience, where one feels understood, uplifted, and alive.

Rhea’s humor follows the ancient wisdom that truth, when wrapped in laughter, pierces deeper. Her jest about finding home in a store points not to vanity, but to the small, earthly joys that nourish the human spirit. She reminds us that pleasure and beauty — when embraced with self-awareness — can also be forms of restoration. Just as the poet finds renewal in nature’s solitude, the artist may find it in color, texture, or light. The heart, after all, seeks comfort in what it loves, and for some, that love may bloom not in a landscape of trees, but in a temple of fashion, fragrance, and artful design.

We see this truth reflected across history. Coco Chanel, who rose from poverty and loss, once said, “Luxury must be comfortable, otherwise it is not luxury.” For her, creation was not indulgence, but healing — a way to reclaim dignity and selfhood. The fashion houses she built became sanctuaries of transformation, where broken spirits could adorn themselves anew. In the same way, Caroline Rhea’s jest hints at something deeper: that finding one’s “home” — whether in Vermont’s quiet or Saks’ shimmer — is about reconnecting to identity and joy.

There is wisdom, too, in the contrast she draws between Vermont and Saks — between nature’s simplicity and civilization’s refinement. Humanity has always stood between these two poles: the rustic and the elegant, the wilderness and the marketplace. Some souls find God in the mountains, others in the artistry of human creation. Rhea’s humor honors both paths, for she suggests that belonging is not bound by geography, but by resonance. Wherever your heart feels light, wherever your soul exhales — that is home.

Yet there is also humility in her words. By laughing at herself, she frees the listener from judgment. She reminds us that our loves, however unconventional, are valid if they bring authentic comfort. The woman who finds joy in the aisles of Saks is not shallow; she is alive, aware of her own delight. The ancients taught that the wise man knows himself; the modern sage, it seems, is one who can also laugh at herself.

The lesson, then, is both simple and profound: do not let others dictate where your spirit should find rest. For one, it may be the mountains; for another, a marketplace; for yet another, a quiet library or bustling café. What matters is not the place, but the peace it brings. Seek those spaces — physical or emotional — that make you feel most yourself, for that is where your soul is at home.

So remember, O listener — home is where joy recognizes you. It may be found in the whisper of pine trees or in the gleam of polished glass; it may come from silence or from laughter echoing through crowded halls. As Caroline Rhea so playfully teaches, do not be ashamed of the places that make you feel alive. For in a world that often demands conformity, finding your own Vermont — or your own Saks — is the quiet act of returning to who you truly are.