Diner en Blanc: The Stages of Excitement, Duress, Panic, and Delight
Diner en Blanc is a culinary, community-oriented phenomenon that originated in Paris several years ago, where most intensely themed dinner series' originate, right? As the name suggests, it's "dinner in white," aka everything is white. EVERYTHING. I had heard about this roving dinner series, which now takes place all over the country throughout the year in various cities, from friends and colleagues, but had never experienced it for myself. Until last week, when everything changed. Here's a recap of my Diner en Blanc experience, and the psychological roller coaster it entailed.
Three weeks prior to event: I had been hearing murmors about Diner en Blanc's impending return to Chicago, making its third appearance in our fair city. But I never really looked into it or how to go about getting involved. One evening while lounging in a park watching Shakespeare as one does, I get a call from a friend. Which I didn't see or answer, because I'm awful. But she promptly texted me right away, saying it was urgent that I RSVP yes or no to her quickly in regards to Diner en Blanc and whether or not I wanted to go. I did.
(Diner en Blanc in action)
One week prior to event: I begin getting emails forwarded to me from my friend who registered us for the perpetually crowded and sold out event. These emails are hella elaborate and convoluted, making me quickly realize that this was going to be much more than a white-clad al fresco dinner. Rather, this was bound to become a full-fledged nervous breakdown draped in white. Once I realized we had to bring our own table, chairs, tablecloth, food, beverages, picnic basket, and anything else entirely, I began to panic. How am I going to finagle all this stuff in time? How will I shop for goddamn tables and chairs when a). I don't have a car and b). I barely have time to purchase a white outfit, let alone an entire mobile dining room. Deep, calm breaths.
Four days prior to event: I shop for my all-white outfit. Everything has to be white, head-to-toe. The instructions made the obnoxious point of stating no ivory or cream either. So that's nice. I set off pillaging stores downtown for white shoes, white pants, new white shirts, and white accessories. Basically, I hate wearing the color white normally. It's so boring, let alone the fact that it is prone to getting dirty easily. I was stressed to the point where I was worrying about my new white shoes and just how particular their precise hue was. Not to mention the maroon lining around the heel. I was envisioning myself getting thrown out of the event, wearing a white dunce cap.
Two days prior to event: I have nothing organized except my white outfit, which I am happy with. I get another forwarded email from my friend titled "time to get serious!" Oh god. It IS time to get serious. I had been procrastinating thinking about the involvement of this event, and how I'd eventually have to bring my own restaurant essentially. We begin discussing who can bring what and how. The reality that I need to shop for a foldable white table is really sinking in.
One day prior to event: Meltdown.
Day of event: It's raining and the forecast does not look good. Because of course. It looks like this thing is going to devolve into a "Girls Gone Wild" scenario with transparent white clothes all over the place. The event runs rain or shine, so this should be fun and/or disastrous. I spend a large part of the afternoon shopping for a table at Target. Nothing. I wind up getting a foldable white desk that fits the bill. I download and use Uber for the first time to help me evade the rain and not worry about dealing with hailing cabs. I accidentally use Uber Black and spend $40 getting home. Then it's off to the grocery store for snacks, salads, drinks, and all the pita chips.
We were given a meeting place locale (Vanille Patisserie), where we'd check in and congregate before hoofing it to the myserious dinner location, which isn't revealed until we arrive. So not only are we bringing our own dining room and food, but we're walking with it. Once we all meet (and the rain THANK GOD dissipates), we finally embark towards our location, which turned out to be the idyllic Nature Boardwalk in Lincoln Park. Now that the clouds have parted, the evening is turning out to be quite lovely. And once we've parked our table and set things up, Diner en Blanc is starting to take shape.
(Candlelit Diner en Blanc)
We explore the grounds before dining, listening to the live French music reminiscent of a Parisian bistro soundtrack, getting our photos taken along the bridge with the skyline in the background, gawking at all the elaborate and fascinating white outfits, and marveling at the scene. This is what Diner en Blanc is all about. It amasses people from all walks of life all over the city, joining people together and building community in bold new ways. You dine picnic-style at your table next to complete strangers, bonding over the zanity and magic of the setting. It's truly a dinner party like no other, and regardless how sore my muscles were and how bitter I was about having to trek around town scrounging for tables, it was all entirely worthwhile.
The night wound down with dancing on the bridge alongside a DJ, with the skyline glistening in the distance. I can think of no better finale to a glamorous al fresco dinner than dancing to Daft Punk under the stars, surrounded by diners decked out in the most elaborate white outfits. Paris, you did good.
- Matt Kirouac