The day I had Lunch with the guy that had lunch with Steve Jobs

I was in Rio de Janeiro for the Web Summit, the first time this legendary event—usually in Lisbon, or Dublin before that—landed in South America. The place was buzzing with innovation, energy, and a who’s who of the digital world. Naturally, I followed my curiosity (and my friend Sunil Sharma) into the Forum Lounge, a space reserved for industry bigwigs, speakers, and VIPs. What started as a casual lunch quickly turned into something unforgettable.

As I stepped inside, I spotted Brian Collins. Yes, the Brian Collins—a titan of design whose work shaped iconic moments for brands like Coca-Cola and Levi's. Oh, and he’s also the guy who had lunch with Steve Jobs. That little tidbit? He mentions it in nearly every talk he gives, and honestly, I would too.

We had crossed paths the day before—barely a handshake and a smile—but I wasn’t going to let this chance slip away. So, I walked up, reminded him of our brief meeting, and to my surprise, he greeted me warmly. We started moving toward the buffet together, and before I knew it, I had “invited” myself to join him at his table.

Here’s the thing about moments like this: they feel surreal. I was about to have lunch with one of the most influential designers in the world. My excitement was barely contained as we sat down with our plates, ready for what I thought would be just small talk.

And then it got personal.

When I mentioned being from Brasília, Brian’s eyes lit up. He launched into how much he admired Oscar Niemeyer, the architect behind the city’s iconic design. That single detail turned our conversation into something deeper. He shared stories from his career that felt like a behind-the-scenes look at how design could shape not just brands but entire experiences.

“Design and architecture—they’re cut from the same cloth.” Brian said. “Look at Niemeyer’s Brasília—it’s not just buildings; it’s a vision brought to life. Advertising? That’s a different beast altogether. Designers take cues from structure and purpose, like architects. Great advertisers? They’re filmmakers at heart, chasing spectacle and story. Hearing about Brasília made me want to see it for myself—it’s a designer’s dream come true.”

Listening to him felt like stepping into another world—one where imagination and innovation collided to drive real change.

Then, as if the universe decided to up the ante, Felipe Memoria joined our table. Felipe, the co-founder of Work & Co, is one of Brazil’s most brilliant designers. His reputation preceded him, but seeing him and Brian click over their shared love of architecture was something else entirely.

The two of them dove into a conversation that spanned design, innovation, and even personal anecdotes. It wasn’t just professional talk—it was a masterclass in creativity. The way they connected ideas, shared insights, and even joked around was magnetic. I mostly listened, absorbing every detail like a sponge.

This wasn’t just lunch anymore. It was a moment.

Brian’s relentless curiosity paired with Felipe’s sharp, innovative edge created an atmosphere that was equal parts inspiring and humbling. Their stories weren’t just about success—they were about risk, failure, and the drive to keep pushing boundaries.

By the time we parted ways, I felt something shift. That 60-minute encounter wasn’t just a meal—it was a turning point. I walked away with more than just ideas; I left with a renewed sense of purpose.

In the days that followed, the echoes of that lunch stayed with me. I started looking at my own work differently, asking tougher questions and pushing harder for originality. The connection I felt with Brian and Felipe wasn’t just inspiring—it was a reminder that great design doesn’t come from playing it safe. It comes from showing up, staying curious, and daring to see the world differently.

That lunch became a story I’ll tell for the rest of my life—not because of who I sat with, but because of what it taught me.

The most remarkable experiences often emerge from the unlikeliest of encounters.

It’s a reminder I carry every day, fueling my creativity and my commitment to push the boundaries of what’s possible.