Our Story

Hi, I’m Whitney. Welcome to The Atlantic Standard! I’m genuinely delighted you’ve found your way here, whether by curated intention or an algorithmic twist of fate (we’ll thank the internet gods either way). This space is designed to inspire, inform, and occasionally amuse, as we navigate the many dimensions of modern life together.

Whether you’re managing the unpredictable beauty of family life, building a business from your dining table, or simply trying to figure out what to serve guests that feels elegant but not exhausting, you’re in good company.

This is The Atlantic Standard: a digital publication rooted in the belief that we can live better—not busier, not trendier, but better—when we do so with thoughtfulness, tradition, and a quiet kind of ambition. Here, we explore what it means to live a life of elegant intention through six pillars: family, education, travel, entrepreneurship, home design, and philanthropy.

I’m Whitney Cabot—the narrator behind the curtain. Not a celebrity, not a lifestyle brand. Just a woman who has spent the last two decades juggling policy memos, preschool lunches, investor decks, and college tours, often with a La Croix in hand and someone yelling “Mom!” in the background. Think of me as the friend who reads The Economist for fun but still makes a mean cheese board.

I’ve lived my life up and down the Eastern Seaboard—New England winters, Carolina summers, and just about everything in between. That rhythm, that salt-soaked constancy of the Atlantic, shaped me. It’s where I fell in love with long coastlines, cedar-shingled homes, and the sound of waves muffled by fog. The Atlantic Standard is, in many ways, a reflection of that life: a slower, more intentional pace that values depth over noise. It’s not about chasing someone else’s version of success—it’s about defining a different standard of living for ourselves, rooted in heritage, hospitality, and heart.

Before The Atlantic Standard, and before Whitney Cabot, I had a first act as a government economist and a professor, roles that taught me the value of evidence, the elegance of logic, and the deeply humbling art of explaining mircoeconomic theories to undergrads who believed “morning class” should legally begin at noon.

Eventually, I transitioned into entrepreneurship, launching several ventures in the med tech space. These days, I continue to work as an entrepreneur, investor, and philanthropist—still mission-driven, still spreadsheet-obsessed, but more inclined to measure success in impact rather than inboxes.

And through it all, I’ve had one constant: my husband. We met at the turn of the century, back when Y2K panic was trending and printing out MapQuest directions felt like an act of deep commitment. He’s brilliant, he’s handsome, and he’s the kind of tech visionary who can fix anything—digital or mechanical—usually while holding a baby or a screwdriver. He’s also the reason I believe in building big things with the people you love.

You’ll meet him soon enough—his name is Grant, and he’s as much a part of this story as I am. A former collegiate athlete turned tech strategist, Grant is equal parts outdoorsman and engineer. He can wrangle code, cook over an open flame, and hang a gallery wall—all before breakfast. His quiet strength anchors our family, and his ironic humor adds the necessary levity to our most ambitious endeavors. He’s our resident fixer, builder, and often, the steady counterbalance to my whirlwind ideas. Together, we’ve raised four children, navigated cross-country moves, and built a life rooted in shared purpose and deep respect.

As for the name Whitney Cabot? It’s not the one on my driver’s license, but it might be the most accurate description of my sensibilities. It was born of a chaotic, surprisingly democratic naming committee chaired by our four children, who span the full spectrum from college to elementary school. It’s like running a think tank with varying attention spans and frequent snack breaks.

The college student wanted something literary and legacy-driven. The high schooler said it had to pass the “Nantucket test”—would it work on a linen-bound magazine in a hydrangea-heavy bookstore? My middle schooler asked diplomatically if this was going to turn into “another one of Mom’s legacy-building projects,” and my youngest, in a moment of quiet insight, tilted her head and said, “It should sound like someone who writes the good books in hotel libraries. The ones where the lobby smells like lemons and polish.” That one stayed with me.

And so, Whitney Cabot was born—graceful, a little elusive, and just patrician enough to sound like she keeps linen napkins on hand, even for weekday lunches. It felt right.

Also in the mix: four dogs, two cats, two lizards, several hamsters (we’ve stopped counting), and a lone fish who is somehow still alive despite what I can only describe as an unrelenting onslaught of well-meaning but overzealous care. Our home is less serene sanctuary and more controlled zoological experiment with good lighting—but I wouldn’t trade it.

I created The Atlantic Standard not because the world needed another blog, but because I believe we need better conversations. Deeper ones. Practical, yes—but also intentional. I wanted to carve out a corner of the internet where ideas are elevated, values are visible, and inspiration has substance.

Here, we believe we get to set our own standards of living—standards that aren’t dictated by trends, timelines, or what someone on social media swears is “essential.” You’re allowed to live beautifully and intentionally, without succumbing to hustle culture or overcomplication. We call it elevated living, on your terms. Think less “go big or go home,” and more “go thoughtfully, and bring a wrap.”

Each post is a blend of Ivy League thinking and lived-in wisdom. You won’t find clickbait or fluff. Instead, you’ll discover real solutions, nuanced takes, and a few dry chuckles along the way. Yes, I’ll offer practical strategies for raising children, growing businesses, and making your home feel like the cover of a lifestyle magazine. But I’ll also be honest about the chaos behind the scenes—because no one lives on Pinterest. Especially not in a house where someone is always moulting, shedding, or requesting another round of goldfish crackers.

This isn’t just a monologue—it’s a conversation. I want The Atlantic Standard to be a place where you feel seen, inspired, and invited to reflect. A place where we can talk about legacy as comfortably as we talk about linens.

So thank you for being here at the beginning. Whether you’re a seasoned reader of editorial essays or a new friend clicking through from Instagram, you’re warmly welcomed. Let’s build something meaningful, together.

With grace (and perhaps a bit of grit),
Whitney Cabot