I have long been a connoisseur of uncommon evenings and exceptional conversation. Drinking in the type of discussion that sparks playful banter, has a bit of shock value and carries the night along with an effortless beauty. There is an undeniable charm to these types of dinner parties – The evenings where time seems to slow down and laughter perfumes the air with an intoxicating allure. A night that feels so effortless it could almost be scripted, a masterclass in the balancing act of playful questions, conversation starters and topics that spark a swirl of passionate dialogue. These are the nights that I fall madly in love with. The nights that I long to forever live within. This is the art (and power) of sensational conversation. 

I have always been enamored with formal dining. The art of it all. The etiquette. The opulence – There is something so beautiful about a perfectly set table. Silver polished to a mirrorlike finish, wine and water glasses glittering under the candlelight and intricate patterns of artisan china spaced out with persicion… It feels like something out of an old romance novel or period film. Something forgotten and antiquated. Something worth sitting down for. We simply do not see formal dining much in modern society, and yet, this is one of my happiest places. A place where I feel as though my imagination and heart comes alive, a space where the possibilities are endless. A setting perfectly designed to illuminate my love for the theatre of dining. 

I believe that I am a different person in and around water. A little more free. More at peace. Flooded with a sense of adventure and somehow suddenly sporty. It brings out a different side of me. A version of Camille that not many know but one that feels, in a way, most like myself. Perhaps it is because so much of my childhood was spent at the pool, on the lake, at the river and driving to the beach. Summers growing up in the Pacific Northwest water seemed to simply run through my veins, shaping not only my memories but who I fundamentally am. Today I find that water still calls to me in the exact same way it did in my childhood. Unabashedly and with gusto. My love for swimming seems to awaken something inside of me that nothing else can. I become a bit of a tomboy, a little more fearless, there is a tiny hint of adrenaline junkie. Hat on backwards, jet skis roaring, endless flailing falls while learning to wakesurf, attempting to surf foil on a dare, diving from as many cliffs as possible… I feel like a kid who needs to be called in at the end of day as golden hour slips into dusk. It is a type of joy that nothing else can mimic. And from this, there is only one conclusion… I believe that I have a soul made of water.