Once upon a time, cheese plates were my hosting bread and butter. These aesthetic little snack spreads were my absolute forte, the only realistic way to host in my 380 square foot studio apartment with a microscopic kitchen and tiny breakfast nook. I would put together the tiniest guest list and dressed as if to go out for the night, we would gather round my café table, nibbling on cheeses and assorted goodies balancing drinks and plates precariously on limited surface space. These mini dinner parties are so deeply embedded in my heart and soul, a hint of curated escape born out of heavy desperation and an undeniable craving for something nice and pretty when it felt as though everything was falling apart around me.

Plainly put, I like things to be nice. I like to have a flower in a bud vase next to the kitchen sink so doing dishes feels a bit more pleasant. I like my living room to look nearly photo ready when I go to bed each night so I wake up to a pretty sunbathed space. I like my dressing room to feel as though I could be getting ready to attend the ballet at le Palais Garnier, or step out for opening night in the West End. And most importantly, I like to make my bed each morning – Pillows plumped and fluffed, arranged in a way befitting a European boutique hotel.

Cheese plates will always be the highlight of cozy season feasting.

A bewitching evening perfect for the chic witches in your life.

Life should be romanticized.

A dreamy spread in the Hamptons.