Good Things Come to Those Who White

All you need to know about the super-exclusive Dîner en Blanc

The invitation pops up in my email inbox one rainy New York City morning: “Want to go to Dîner en Blanc next week?” I know my answer. No way. Huge outdoor events packed with massive crowds aren’t my thing. But I don’t automatically hit “send.” Dîner en Blanc events are famous for their gigantic waiting lists, so an invitation is definitely something to consider, at least for more than a half-second. I’ve seen the Instagram pics: thousands of guests wearing all-white and clinking Champagne glasses in front of gorgeously backlit monuments all over the world. After a few minutes and a quick check of the forecast – sunshine next week – my curiosity wins. Will this turn out to be super-cheesy, or kind of fantastic? I delete “No thanks” and type “Yes.”

Here’s the thing about Dîner en Blanc: not only are you required to dress in all white, but you also have to bring your own tables, chairs, picnic baskets and tablecloths: white, white, white and white. The official list of rules is almost comical: “The table must be square, foldable and easy to carry. The size must be between 71 and 81cm.” Also, you have to dress “head to toe in all and only white, and elegant. All white means no ivory, no cream or any other color!” The rules are widely ridiculed, but enough people love the challenge and are game to haul their white-clad selves and furniture, knowing they’re among the few who get to go.

Dîner en Blanc’s origin story is that the first one happened in the summer of 1988, when a bunch of friends in Paris decided to get together for an evening picnic in the Bois de Boulogne. Guests wore white so they could find each other in the giant park. The picnic was such a success that it turned into an annual event.

Aymeric Pasquier, whose father Pascal was one of those original Paris picnickers, brought the idea to New York City, throwing the first Dîner en Blanc there in 2011 with his business partner Sandy Safi, a half-Lebanese entrepreneur based in Montreal. Word about the picturesque pop-up party soon spread, and the pair got flooded with requests from people who wanted to bring the event to their own city. Pasquier and Safi formed Dîner en Blanc International the next year, and now host dinners in 80 cities and counting, at such iconic locations as Sydney’s Opera House and Paris’ Esplanade des Invalides.

If you manage to get a spot after signing up for the waiting list in your city of choice, you won’t find out the exact location until a few hours before the dinner. There’s nothing like a little secrecy to amp up the mystique, and Dîner en Blanc thrives on mystique. Invitations are first-come first-served – with priority for returning guests – and waiting lists can run into the tens of thousands. Beirut has yet to host an event, but with enough local demand, it could theoretically happen anytime.

Considering that the waiting list for the 6,500 spots at the latest New York City dinner is hitting around 45,000 by the time I get my invite, I feel lucky to score a spot. As for the all-white outfit, I wonder how mine will fare at a picnic – hello, mud – but I’ll just have to proceed carefully.

A few hours before the dinner, I get a text message revealing the location: Governors Island. The serene, grassy island is a 10-minute ferry ride from Downtown Manhattan and has magical views of the city skyline.

I board with my group and we push off into the choppy waters, just as the sun starts sinking on the horizon. Full disclosure: because my crew is mainly journalists and photographers, we’re invited into the media tent for a buffet dinner, so no need to pack our own food or furniture. After a plateful of charcuterie, I leave the tent to roam around and spy on other guests as they set up their tables. The crowd looks to be a dynamic mix of ages, races, gender identities and nationalities – everyone showing up with a personal interpretation of the all-white dress code. I spot more than a few feathery 18th-century-style headpieces, frothy dresses that could star in a reality-show wedding, white pantsuits, white cocktail gowns, dressy white shorts, white tiaras, white hats – lots of hats.

At 7:30pm, thousands of guests wave their white napkins. It’s officially dinner time. For the next few hours, guests feast on the picnic dinners they brought and walk around to check out the scene.

Entertainers weave through the tables, dancing in shimmering white outfits, and soon hundreds of guests start heading to a grassy dance floor next to a thumping sound system.

I feel a few raindrops. Uh-oh, it’s sprinkling. Knowing my tendency to slip and fall dramatically, I dodge the increasingly muddy dance area and find my way back to the media tent for more Champagne. My timing turns out to be perfect: the event’s co-founder, Sandy Safi, is here, and we sit down for a chat.

Safi tells me she got involved with Dîner en Blanc after years of experience organizing concerts and raves for event companies like Peppermint Experience in Dubai. I have to ask: Why is there no Dîner en Blanc in Beirut? A highly Instagrammable, hard-toget-into party like this seems tailor-made for Beirut, no? Well, yes, Safi agrees. Except for one thing: “Can you imagine the Lebanese agreeing to carry their own tables and chairs to a dinner?” she asks with a laugh.

She has a point. Of course I’m not one to talk, since I’d managed to get out of carrying my own furniture too. Which is probably a good thing for everyone, considering what happens next: as the rain stops and I walk out of the tent to find my group, the mud plays a little joke on me. I step into the grass and my heel slides out – landing me, white dress and all, right in the dirt. Happily, the crowd is well into its wine by then and distracted by the music, and no one seems to notice. I wrap a white scarf around the enormous mud stain and slowly make my way to the dance floor, the city behind me lit up like a giant disco ball in the sky.

Words Salma Abdelnour