The Art of Supper

Old New York, New Intentions, and Dressing for the Room Again

I want to talk about the old New York, not the new New York.

Disclaimer: I’m not a native New Yorker. I’m speaking to the fashion week girlies. The ones who remember when it felt electric.

I started attending New York Fashion Week in 2013. February and September. That first season?… I don’t even know if I had the language for it. It was a feeling. A rush. An energy I wanted to bottle up and sip whenever I needed inspiration. It wasn’t just about clothes, it was about presence.

Back then, photographers were outside trying to get their Bill Cunningham on. They captured fashion enthusiasts, editors, and the girls who came dressed to be seen, but people were still watching the shows. They might record a look they loved, but they were actually present.

Now? I see more people watching the runway through their phones than with their own eyes. Full-on phone rigs. Acting as videographers. Experiencing the moment through a screen while standing inside the moment. And outside the venues, I’ve watched people risk it all just to be photographed, including almost getting hit by a car. I’ve written about that before. The desperation for documentation over experience.

But the shift didn’t just happen on the sidewalks.

You used to leave shows, grab a late dinner, end up at a party, talk to strangers, build relationships. New York felt alive after dark. Post-pandemic, the city changed. Kitchens close early. Restaurants are cautious. The energy is… different. You felt it before 2020, but the pandemic made it undeniable.

So I’ve been asking myself: what if New York Fashion Week isn’t about fashion week anymore?

What if it becomes about intention?

Instead of running to five shows a day, what if it’s one or two, selectively chosen. Supporting a designer you believe in. A friend’s production. An installation that moves you. And then?

You go back. You rest. You get dressed again, not for the camera, but for supper.

I’m leaning toward the art of supper.

Dressing for Supper Is the Event

Not a content dinner. Not a “booties and plates” situation.

I’m talking about friends who decide: we are going to get dressed to the nines. We are digging into the back of our closets. That midi gown that’s been waiting. That three-piece suit tailored to the heavens. The heel you bought for “something special.”

And the supper isn’t about being elite, but it is about elevation.

There have always been supper clubs throughout history. Some still exist, ultra-exclusive, Michelin-star experiences curated by world-class chefs, membership required, top-tier cost of entry. That’s not necessarily what I’m proposing.

I’m interested in something else.

A traveling supper club of friends.

Intentional reservations at restaurants you’ve never tried but researched. Phones down. Conversations up. World events. Art. Culture. Business. Top-tier food. Thoughtful drinks, alcoholic or not. A nightcap after. And then home at a decent hour to luxurious loungewear, a book, or a film that ends up watching you.

But here’s the real question:

Can it be done without it becoming performative?

Does it require a dress code conversation?
What does “elevated” look like if it’s not dictated by an institution, but by you and your crew?

Because for me, New York and Fashion Week are no longer automatically in the same sentence. You can go to New York. You can go to a show. You can visit family. But they aren’t mutually inclusive anymore.

And maybe that’s okay.

Micro Over Macro

There’s been a rise in smaller, off-site fashion experiences. Micro fashion weeks. Cultural showcases. Independent productions.

Recently, I attended a Filipino fashion and music bazaar. It was unique, layered, culturally rich, fashion filtered through a specific lens. That type of experience feels meaningful.

Smaller spaces allow for actual connection. Icebreakers. Breakout groups. Real conversation. Not networking based on follower counts.

It shouldn’t feel pompous to exchange contact information. It shouldn’t depend on how many followers someone has.

That logic is tired.

There are fashion insiders with no social media presence whose proximity alone opens doors. And then there are people with millions of followers who, if you walked past them, you wouldn’t recognize them. It’s the “I don’t know this man” effect.

We have to move past that.

Connection over competition. Collaboration over comparison.

So I’ll Ask You This

This September, what are you doing with your friends?

Are you brave enough to create your own supper club?
To schedule one dinner a month?
To dress, not in fast fashion, not in the quick impulse buy, but in something that feels considered?

Can commitments be made?

Put the dates on the books. Three to four friends. One restaurant. A theme if you want.

But elevate the room when you walk in.

Play in your clothes. Wear the thing that’s been waiting.

Maybe New York doesn’t need to return to what it was.

Maybe we just need to redefine what the event is.

For me, moving forward?

The event might be supper.