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"Well, I guess this dinner's not happening after Labour Day, is it?" laughs my cheeky husband, referencing that age-old adage about never, ever wearing white after the holiday long weekend in early September. How does he know that? And how is it that neither of us owns a full outfit in white? "What if it rains like it always does here," he presses further. See, part of this discussion is based on him pretending as if he is being dragged to yet another food event. "Well. I would think that would be one heck of a bonus," I say. "Think about how one thousand people are going to look in their rain-soaked whites." I've won this round and I may have, perhaps, just won it for all mankind being coerced by their partners to attend. Watch those ticket sales soar. Pray for rain. Dear event organizers: I'm not serious.
I wonder if these are the kinds of conversations people are having all over when they first hear about the phenomenon that is Dîner en Blanc. I've long been a fan of the idea of beautifully-dressed al fresco dinners,…