I often think about the love letters that Victorian women used to write to their friends. The passions and adoration expressed for a love that is so very different from that of a romantic partner but oh so vital. Having been single for what feels like a lifetime, I have found endless affection and companionship within my female friendships. The love of which has gotten me through wildly contrasting times, chapters of utter elation and blackened pools of sorrow. I have women in my life who have seen me through countless versions of myself (some of which we should all like to forget.) Women who I have laughed with until tears stream down our faces, cheeks sore from unbridled smiles. Women who have watched me grieve and who have picked me up when I could not do so for myself. It is the power and love of these women who I owe a depth of gratitude to, the reason I have grown into this version of myself. The version I am most proud of. And to celebrate them is such an effortless venture. So it seems only right that for Valentine’s day, I turn to the true loves of my life for an evening of much needed platonic romance and absolute effervescence. 

If by some wild chance, it is not obvious by now, the golden age of Hollywood and the films made during that era are not only a huge inspiration for me, but also a large part of who I am. I became enamored with Turner Classic Movies when I was in the second grade. The characters, the stories, the fashion and the starletts… I was love struck. That year, I styled my hair like Veronica Lake, blonde strands dramatically swept over one eye, my affect as mysterious as possible. I remember the school photographer trying to get me to push my hair out of my face for my school photo. I refused. What can I say, I have always been committed to the craft. 

All this to say, and reiterate, that the tales of Hollywood, the glitz and glamour of that world, is simply deeply ingrained in me. So when I set out to create my dinner parties and evenings as a whole, I am often inspired by favorite films, costumes, characters and settings from a bygone era. 

Delivery pizza. A classic, time honored tradition. And one that has luckily improved with artisan pizza joints and creative toppings that leave you wondering how you ever managed to enjoy pizza without truffle honey. But before we get into my current version of delivery, let us travel back and reflect, briefly, on the origins of pizza nights. For once upon a time, before endless delivery services existed, pizza delivery was basically the only delivery. Some 17 year old kid drove around with a light up box displaying a pizza company logo on the roof of a red Subaru hatchback and somehow managed to get to your house successfully without the aid of GPS all in hopes of some cash tips and a pizza of their own at the end of the night. It was a wild time. And it felt so very special. A movie, earlier in the day, carefully selected and rented from Hollywood Video, slices of greasy pepperoni pizza served on colorful melamine plates and a bowl of air-popped popcorn… nothing was better. It felt like such a treat. I loved pizza night.

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.