A Return to the Dinner Party
Reviving a tradition of hospitality through story, style, and soulful connection.
There’s something quietly thrilling about the return of the dinner party. For years, we’ve traded long, candlelit evenings around the table for the efficiency of dining out or the ease of takeout. Yet the pull of gathering in a private home—where conversation lingers, wine is refilled without hurry, and the setting itself tells a story—feels more magnetic than ever.
I’ve always believed that hosting is an art form, one that goes far beyond arranging plates or pouring cocktails. A dinner party is an atmosphere, a rhythm, a chance to curate not just what’s on the table, but who’s around it.
A Literary Spark
The inspiration for this new ritual came from one of my favorite recent reads, A Happier Life by Kristy Woodson Harvey. Set in my hometown, the novel evokes a sense of place and tradition I find irresistible. One character, Becks, was legendary for her gatherings—her “summer suppers” became touchstones for connection, beauty, and conversation. That detail stayed with me.
It made me imagine what a modern version might look like: a series of monthly dinners with six different guests at a time. Small enough for intimacy, large enough for energy. Each month, the guest list would revolve around shared interests—pairing neighbors who might otherwise never meet, creatives who thrive on cross-pollination, or friends who might discover they had more in common than they realized. The idea feels intentional, purposeful—an antidote to the impersonal rush of daily life.
Cult Classics & Cocktails
Before the new year officially ushers in this tradition, I’m starting with something playfully cinematic: my Cult Classics & Cocktails Halloween bash. Guests will arrive dressed as their favorite movie characters, bringing a sense of theater and whimsy to the night. Old black-and-white films will flicker quietly in the background, a subtle nod to nostalgia, while a curated playlist sets the mood with an undercurrent of mystery and charm. Light finger foods and clever cocktails will keep the energy flowing, but the true focus will be atmosphere—the kind that invites people to lose track of time.
The Language of the Table
My approach to decorating is less about perfection and more about resonance. I lean on the timeless: vintage candelabras collected from antique markets, sprigs of lavender and branches clipped from my own yard, small treasures gathered on travels. These pieces, layered together, carry a sense of place and history that a store-bought centerpiece simply cannot. A table, to me, should feel lived in, storied, and deeply personal.
Looking Ahead
As I imagine these future gatherings, I’m less concerned with menus than with the moments that unfold between courses: the laughter across the table, the unexpected overlaps in conversation, the comfort of candlelight softening the edges of a long day. Dinner parties may feel nostalgic, but perhaps that is precisely their allure. In bringing them back, we aren’t chasing the past—we’re reclaiming a slower, more intentional way of connecting.
After all, the table has always been more than a place to eat. It’s where ideas are shared, friendships are deepened, and stories find their way into the glow of memory.
