Alexander Gilkes has built a career defined less by category than by sensibility. From the world of auctioneering to digital culture, and now consumer health, his work is guided by a steady curiosity about how people live, what they value and the rituals that shape their days. His days are organized around a few essential practices and influences – water and movement, art and architecture, optimism and restraint – that ground his sense of well-being and help inform the brands he builds. In this conversation, Gilkes reflects on sanctuary, presence, and the importance of creating space, both physical and emotional, that allows for depth, reflection and a more intentional way of moving through the world.
Your career bridges worlds, from auctioneering to digital culture to now building and founding multiple consumer health brands as the co-founder of a venture studio. What values have remained constant for you?
Across the different chapters of my career, the values guiding me have been surprisingly steady, even as the work itself has evolved. I’ve always been drawn to consumer brands and the human stories behind why people choose certain products, experiences, and rituals. Staying close to the cultural zeitgeist has been a constant—whether adapting brand strategies across Japan, Hong Kong, and Switzerland at LVMH, building digital platforms that broadened access to art and collectibles, or now shaping science-led consumer health brands. The goal has never been to chase novelty, but to pursue ideas that feel genuinely meaningful and that can somehow elevate people’s lives.
Equally central has been the primacy of relationships. I’ve learned that companies and brands are human ecosystems, built on listening, trust, and creating the conditions for others—artists, founders, scientists, creators, partners—to do their best work. And underpinning all of this is curiosity. It’s the through-line that allowed me to move from luxury to digital culture to health and wellness, and to keep pace with the ways consumers’ needs and priorities evolve. Curiosity keeps the aperture open; it prevents you from becoming the expert of yesterday. In some ways, I’m still serving the same consumer, but just meeting them where they are today.
What are the essential elements of a personal sanctuary—spaces that restore you?
I need to be in or near water to feel completely restored. I made a commitment to myself that if I ever see a clean body of water, no matter the temperature (boiling hot thermals excluded) I would venture into it – whether a pond, stream, canal, lake, sea or river. I have also been a fan of contrast therapy for over twenty years. When I lived in Paris, I would regularly visit the Mosque to use their hammam; in Russia, we would swim in ice holes and warm up beside fires; and later, the Russian banya became a haven for me in New York—a place where I could escape the noise and feel quiet and recharged.
If you were to describe the inner qualities that shape your warmth, style, and daily sensibility, what would they be?
I try my best to be a perennial optimist and see the best in everyone I encounter. We live in a culture that can so easily default to fear, cynicism, or judgment, and I find it cathartic to lead with generosity. It keeps me open-minded.
I’m also very much a visual learner and tend to see details before I see the whole. I’ve also always valued restraint over excess.
What is a daily or weekly practice that keeps you aligned—a practice that might seem small from the outside but carries real significance for you?
We are fortunate to have a pool, and we do not heat it. Come rain or shine, I like to start each day with a cold dip in the early morning to wake up my mind and body. I also make a point of taking a long walk alone at least once a week to clear my head, recalibrate my priorities, and give space to anything that may be bugging me.
How do physical practices support your mental and creative equilibrium?
As I race into middle age, I don’t have much choice but to keep moving—though, in truth, I’ve never been someone who sits still. I’m fortunate now to live in a place where I can be outdoors almost every day of the year. We’re surrounded by mountains, and whenever possible, I end the day with a hike followed by a dip in a spring-fed waterhole. It helps me decompress, detach from my phone, and be a bit more reflective about where I am and where I’m heading. Many of my best ideas arrive far from a desk. I also love to play tennis—badly, but enthusiastically—for the stamina and focus that come from its repetition. And I’ve recently added two to three intense HIIT sessions each week to build more physical fitness and mental resilience.
Are there artists or works that give you calm, clarity, or presence?
I tend to be most inspired by the architectural artworks of great spatial designers like Vincent Van Duysen, David Adjaye, Tadao Ando, or Axel Vervoordt, who create cathedral-like experiences of calm and clarity.
There are also countless artists who make me pause. Off the top of my head, I still remember my first encounter with a Turner seascape at the Tate Britain. I think back to the Rothko exhibition I saw at Gagosian, or Marina Abramović’s first retrospective at MoMA, which was mesmerizing. At the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, I used to stand in awe before Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son. I’m reminded too of the reflective oil pond that once occupied the basement of London’s Saatchi Gallery, or of the David Hammons works I saw at the Bourse de Commerce. And at LACMA, Chris Burden’s kinetic sculpture Metropolis II—that frenetic hum of miniature cars—takes me back to the wild pace of NYC.
How do you transition between serial founder and father? Where do you find harmony?
Both roles require a different energy, and I am fortunate that my business partners and I have been able to build a work culture that suits our current lifestyles and allows us to work remotely. This flexibility lets me spend as much time as possible with Maria and our son, Theo. I am mindful of how quickly these wonderful early years will pass and want to be as present as I can to witness his evolution and guide him thoughtfully. When my attention is not on family, my full focus is on work. We keep no fixed schedule, but each day from 7 to 7 I move in and out of calls and workstreams, using weekends for more strategic thinking and output.
If you could design a day in which you feel fully present, grounded, and open, what would it feel like?
I’ll focus on the perfect Saturday for this answer. I would wake up at 5:30am, feeling energized after a good seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. I’d start the day with a cold dip to move a little and fully wake up, then have a coffee with my wife. At 6:30am we would get our son ready for the day and find him in good spirits. We’d all have breakfast together and discuss our plans for the day.
I’d hit the gym around 8am for a 75-minute workout, then come home to join Maria and Theo for our first outing of the day — we usually like to visit the amazing fish and farmers’ markets on Saturdays and pick up a few key items for the fridge. If time allows, we’ll have friends over for an 11am brunch, which I’ll prepare at home.
While Theo naps, we’ll read, do a bit of work, or rest for an hour or so. When he wakes, we’ll usually read and play together, then do something cultural — a concert, a museum visit, a bookstore reading. Later, Theo and I often have a father–son early dinner, and sometimes Maria joins. We then spend the evening at home, where I play mixologist and we listen to some of our vinyl collection, and, if time allows, watch a movie. Bed at 10pm.
