A Simanovsky Soirée

14 hours ago
5 min read

Monica sitting at the dinner table surrounded by pink flowers, candlelight, and greenery, wearing white and sage green, looking peaceful and present at the evening event.

Last summer I broke with tradition. Instead of hosting a birthday dinner with just my girlfriends, I invited my husband, included our friends' husbands, and folded our wedding anniversary into the celebration. A sensible choice, given that my birthday and our anniversary landed in the same week. As a Leo, perhaps it never quite occurred to me that I could share my birthday with anyone—but August is my favorite month, and it did make for the most beautiful wedding day, now seven summers ago.

So I went all out last year. A long table in our courtyard, adorned with all my favorite flowers I handpicked at the market in shades of pink I can't quite name. A delicious meal entirely made by Arthur. An evening where people wanted to stay. Late—I was shocked when I realized it was 2am, after my pregnant friend had left at midnight, a feat I still remain proud of. The evening felt magical. So we made it a ritual. Same recipe, more befitting name: the Simanovsky Soirée. Perhaps now I'll have to share my birthday forever.

My husband and I have entertained consistently throughout our relationship. From our first "Meet Arthur Party"—essentially a way to introduce our friends at the official start of our relationship—to epic Halloween celebrations, nights under the pergola, and now dinner amongst the bougainvillea, apple, and citrus trees lining our courtyard. It's the one major thing we seem to have in common, aside from our obsession with our son. We both find immense value in bringing people together, even if we do it differently. He cooks and serves the cocktails (and toasts with vodka every five seconds about God-knows-what). I make things pretty and can't stop talking. And so we did the thing we love again.

Overhead view of a place setting with hand-lettered scalloped menu card, floral-patterned plate, crystal glass, candles, and pink and coral flowers in the centerline arrangement.

The Real Foundation: Your Guests

Before I give tips on flower arrangements or place settings or what to serve, let me say this plainly: no amount of time or money can compensate for a bad guest list. People make the party. Period. If you don't like your guests, there is quite literally no reason to host them. If you must entertain people you don't enjoy, take them to a restaurant and save yourself the disappointment of a wasted effort.

Hosting is hard. I recommend you only do it when it's absolutely worth it.

If you're lucky to have people you love around, consider them carefully. Think about what they will like and who they might like. Make them feel special—with where they sit, what you offer them to drink, or in my case this year, a personalized menu card they can take home as a way to remember the evening. These details aren't about decoration. They're about saying: I thought about you.

Two guests toasting with wine glasses at the candlelit dinner table, smiling, surrounded by pink flowers, greenery, and the illuminated courtyard garden in the evening.

The Seating Chart

A seating chart is essential at any dinner party, not for formality but for pragmatism. It's overwhelming and uncomfortable for guests to decide where to sit for an entire meal. I enjoy thinking this through: who needs to sit where to be most comfortable and most entertained?

It's not a perfect science. But I did orchestrate a seating chart miracle at our wedding that people still talk about today. A few rules I follow: I like splitting up couples and men from women. Who wants to hear the same story again? I'd rather talk to my girlfriends without considering if the men find what I'm saying interesting. I try to sit people near at least one familiar face and one new person I think they'd like. Think about what would make the most fun given your specific group.

Close-up of the dinner table showing candlesticks with white candles, crystal glasses, pink carnations and dried grasses, floral place cards, and the sage-green tablecloth.

Create Multiple Spaces

Having different spaces helps move the party along and gives everyone a chance to connect. I love at least two sections—one for cocktails and one for dinner. This year, I set up a small buffet with drinks, appetizers, and cake adjacent to the seated table so we could replenish our glasses easily and fully enjoy the warm evening. But you might start outside first, dine at the table second, and move to another part of the house for dessert or a nightcap and music. The idea alone is encouraging me to finish decorating my own house—I need an entertainer's house.

Buffet table close-up showing a white frosted cake with berries on top, fresh grapes, strawberries, figs in brass bowls, tall red celosia flower spikes, and champagne bottle, all against sage-green tablecloth.

A Beautiful Buffet

A well-designed buffet table is as practical as it is chic. Whether you serve an entire meal from it or simply drinks and bites, it becomes the anchor of the evening. A few things I've learned matter:

Levels create depth. Use pedestals, varying floral heights, or books under the tablecloth. Everything on the table should remain visible to guests. It's not decoration—it's about how people move through the space.

Fruits and florals belong everywhere. Use what's in season and what's freshest. Make fruits easy to grab or garnish a drink with. I prefer one larger bouquet and one smaller that complements it—regardless of how many arrangements, vary the size and composition so the eye moves across the table.

Simplify drinks. No more than three options. Less is more. If you have a signature cocktail, batch it and keep it in a pitcher so guests can pour over ice. Always have water on hand so guests don't have to go searching for it.

Make dessert the centerpiece. A beautiful cake gets everyone excited for what's to come. Why not show it off? Even bowls of candies or an array of mini tarts add color and depth to the table—present them proudly.

Light is everything. One nice lamp or candle won't light up an entire buffet. I recommend at least three to four sources of warm light with varying heights. I love using those small brass uplighters because they're easy to hide and give just the right amount of glow.

Intimate overhead of a single place setting with hand-lettered scalloped menu card, pink floral design, crystal glasses, candle, and pink flower arrangements close by.

The Unglamorous Things

Mosquitoes. Lighting. Soap, toilet paper, and hand towels in the powder room. Not the most glamorous things, but the ones people will unfortunately remember if not addressed.

After 15 mosquito-free summers in Los Angeles, my Chicago roots caught up with me. After trying every treatment, candle, mist, and even a giant bug zapper, the winner was simple: fans. Oscillating tower fans, spaced out to reach every guest at the table. I used four, hid them in the greenery as best I could, and they doubled as temperature control. The entire evening was mosquito-free.

These details matter not because they're beautiful, but because they allow people to be present. A guest swatting mosquitoes isn't fully there. A guest searching for the restroom isn't enjoying the moment. The invisible work of hosting is making it possible for people to forget about discomfort and just be.

Monica seated at the dinner table at night, candlelit, wearing a white top and sage-green wrap skirt, surrounded by candles and the long table in the background.

Presence: The Greatest Gift

The most valuable thing you can give guests is your attention. I've had many experiences where my overwhelm about hosting took away from the joy of being with people I love. Everyone will appreciate the pretty table and delicious lemon chicken. But they will remember your energy. They will remember how you made them feel.

If hiring help, outsourcing tasks, or simplifying the setup means you'll be more available during the event, do that. Just do your best and let some things go. I love the what, but it's always more important to remember the why.

This year, I focused on a few good things: a maximalist buffet, the most beautiful menu cards, and an amazing photographer to capture it all so I could truly relax at my own party. And being able to enjoy the dinner I worked so hard to make happen was the true gift I gave myself.

I love being creative in this way. The details mean so much to me. But I've realized the work is meaningless without presence. Surrounded by my husband and our friends, in our home by candlelight and the most special photographer to capture it all—that's what I'll remember. That's what matters.