Welcome to The Velvet Rope Playbook, where stories of affluent marketing take center stage. Dive into the lives of fascinating characters, explore the opulent worlds they inhabit, and uncover lessons on exclusivity, influence, and the subtle strategies behind successful branding. Through tales brimming with wit, intrigue, and charm, Mark Satterfield offers insights into what truly resonates with the affluent. Whether you’re seeking inspiration, actionable advice, or simply a delightful escape, The Velvet Rope Playbook delivers stories that educate, entertain, and elevate your approach to marketing in the world of luxury.
Catch all the episodes at http://VelvetRopePodcast.com and claim your FREE copy of my #1 Amazon Best Seller, The Affluent Marketing Blueprint—your guide to attracting wealthy clients.
The Velvet Rope Playbook is an independent production and is not affiliated with or endorsed by any other organization."
The first time someone asked Roman Bell what he does, he smiled and said:
“I run a business that introduces me to the right people… while I’m sleeping.”
They laughed. He didn’t.
Roman doesn’t hustle. He…
There’s something nobody tells you when you start working with high-net-worth clients:
They’re not just wealthy. They’re tribal.
They have their own language.
Their own codes of behavior.
Their own unspo…
There’s a guy in Sonoma named Barrett Shaw.
If you know him, it’s probably through someone wealthy, discreet, and obsessive about detail.
He designs wine labels. But not like you think.
There’s no agenc…
There’s a guy in Naples named Carter Voss.
Drives a vintage Defender. Orders iced espresso with lemon. Speaks three languages but only when he has to.
Carter’s a private investment scout—he finds the o…
At a dinner party in Napa—just 12 guests, two sommeliers, and one of those chefs who speaks in poetry—a man named Julian DeVere passed a signed copy of a book across the table.
The title?
Preserving Le…
It wasn’t always like this.
There was a time when the wealthy showed it all off—columns in society magazines, their names carved into museum wings, estates featured in Architectural Digest.
But then th…
It starts with a knock on a townhouse door in Mayfair.
No sign. No hours. No reception desk.
Just a discrete assistant who already knows your name, your portfolio, and your preferences.
Inside, there ar…
If you’re trying too hard, you’re already out of the conversation.
The bougie dialect isn’t about what you say—it’s about what you don’t say. Or better yet, what you say just ambiguously enough that o…
There’s a private gym in Manhattan where you can’t walk in off the street.
No sign on the door.
No drop-in passes.
No “first week free.”
Inside?
It looks like a Bond villain’s personal training lair.
All b…
You probably know someone who’s on Raya.
You just don’t know they’re on Raya.
Because no one talks about it.
Not if they want to stay inside.
It’s the dating app that isn’t about dating.
It’s not about sw…
There’s a man in Sea Island who goes by the name Walter “Suitcase” Grant.
He’s not a lawyer. Not a banker. Not a real estate guy.
But when a billionaire’s wife needs a museum director on the phone by d…
Let me tell you about a woman I met at a gallery opening in Beverly Hills.
She had a name like “Charlotte” or “Camille”... Chanel flats, Hermès cuff, and the kind of bone structure that makes you assu…
It started with a handshake in a suite at the Park Hyatt Tokyo.
Not a boardroom.
Not a pitch meeting.
Just a quiet moment between two men who knew how the game was played.
The buyer was a soft-spoken Sin…
Let’s start with a truth nobody wants to say out loud:
Looking this “relaxed” is a full-time job.
The bougie wardrobe is a masterpiece of contradiction. It whispers “I just threw this on” while screami…
Let’s start with the obvious question:
What does “bougie” even mean anymore?
Once upon a time—say, in Marxist textbooks and 1990s grad school syllabi—“bourgeoisie” referred to the capitalist class. Peo…
Walk into Bergdorf Goodman on a Tuesday afternoon and you’ll notice something strange.
It’s quiet.
Not dead. Not empty. Just… hushed.
The kind of hush you only find in a cathedral, a private club, or a …
There’s a chair in Beverly Hills that’s booked six months in advance.
Not for surgery.
Not for legal counsel.
But for a haircut.
Just a simple trim—if you believe the receipt—though it’ll run you close t…
In Montecito, there’s a guy they call Spencer Wren.
He doesn’t advertise. Doesn’t network. Doesn’t even have a business card.
But somehow, he’s the one handling art acquisitions for half the hedge fund…
There’s a reason the duPont Registry has been on the coffee tables of the wealthy for decades—right next to the Robb Report and a bottle of Dalmore 25.
But it’s not just because it shows off Ferraris,…
If you’ve walked through the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace, you already know:
This isn’t a shopping mall.
It’s a performance.
Marble statues. Faux daylight skies. The soft clink of coins hitting fountai…