Azzedine Alaïa, the Tunisian designer, was renowned in fashion circles not only for being a masterful couturier but also his inimitable hospitality. An invite to lunch or dinner at his intimate kitchen table, located within his Paris studios, was highly coveted amongst those within the fashion and art world. Guests ranged from Grace Jones and Naomi Campbell to Serge Gainsbourg and Miles Davis, and even Greta Garbo, along with the regular rotation of people from his workshop and his family and inner circle.
Raised in Tunis by his grandmother, Alaïa was brought up on the principle that family and food went hand in hand. Growing up in a household that was always open and always prepared to entertain guests, Alaïa recreated the same feeling when he opened his own atelier in Paris. Despite being a perfectionist in his profession, when he was cooking alongside his chef, Alaïa’s dishes were not often fancy but always delicious, rather focusing on fresh and simple food, bringing together his two worlds with Tunisian dishes and French delicacies. His kitchen table became a place that brought together people from all walks of life, fostering connection and creativity.
“I like to be surrounded. Even now, every day it's the same thing, we all eat together. Everything is mixed: people from the workshop, famous personalities, young people, old people ... it comes from my childhood and my education. I was raised by my grandmother in Tunisia, and her house was always open. The whole family arrived for lunch and there were always around twenty of us at the table. As soon as I moved to Paris, I reproduced the exact same thing.”
I only recently discovered the lore surrounding Alaïa’s story at Vogue’s Inventing the Runway exhibition last month, but I was immediately struck by the powerful image of an intimate kitchen table surrounded by glamorous people from the realms of fashion, arts and culture. It felt like a world away from glamour as we know it now, and even dinner parties as we know them now. There was something incredibly chic and humble in the simplicity of Alaïa’s kitchen table - food acting as a social connector to bring around people from all walks of life and facilitate rich and meaningful conversations.
With an explosion of supper clubs popping up across major cities, and dinner parties becoming a social media trend in recent years, it feels like hosting has become increasingly aestheticised and even commercialised. I love food and discovering new cuisines and places, but recently I have become fatigued with a London food scene that feels a little saturated and uninteresting. I am also guilty myself of buying multiple sets of vintage glassware and portuguese ceramics, convincing myself and my boyfriend that I absolutely must have them for my next hosting occasion. Of course, I am delusional, a slave to capitalism, and will look for any reason to justify my silly purchases but the reality is you don’t need more than a good recipe and a functioning kitchen to host your friends for dinner and have a good time.
In a time where socialising increasingly feels like a privilege that we have to pay for, I felt particularly inspired by the simplicity of Alaïa’s hospitality. Instead of meeting our friends over an overpriced, average-tasting small plates menu in a homogenised interior, perhaps we should be inviting each other over for simple meals and good conversations. Yes, it requires a little bit more cooking and a little bit of effort but who’s to say that it couldn’t be a simple 20 minute pasta? Your friends will appreciate the effort and the fact that they haven’t spent more than £15 on travel and maybe wine or a pudding of some sort. Most importantly, you can dine at your own leisurely pace - allowing you to take the conversation wherever you want without fear of being rushed out of your table.
With a loneliness epidemic looming, leaning into low maintenance socialising that requires little effort could be the solution to our cravings for intimacy. Low-stakes hangouts with high pay-offs can feed our desire for real connections that feel authentic; helping us to nurture the relationships that ground us and don’t require pretence. In recent months, some of my favourite moments with my friends have been sat around a kitchen table - whether it’s a post-Christmas catch-up over gnocchi, trying out a new shallot tarte tatin recipe or simply sharing a bottle of prosecco with a friend I hadn’t seen in months - I love the intimacy provided by the humble kitchen table.
Alaïa understood that hospitality is about opening your door and making space for others at your table. In a world that can sometimes feel isolating or transactional, it feels more important than ever to not take our social connections for granted and invest time in one another by sharing, gathering and being present.
Whilst I am certain that the conversations happening around my table at home are nowhere near as cultured or enlightening as the ones that took place at Alaïa’s table, there is still something special about hosting at home. It’s unlikely that we’ll be delving deep into the realms of art and philosophy and instead sharing terrible dating stories, gossiping about the people we grew up with and reminiscing about chaotic drunken adventures, but it doesn’t make the conversation any less fulfilling.
The fact of the matter is that the best conversations don’t happen over carefully curated plates of food in a trendy restaurant but rather in the familiar spaces where everyone lingers a little longer, refills their glasses a couple of times and lets the night unfold at its own pace.
Editor’s Note: If you’re as obsessed with Azzedine Alaïa’s kitchen stories as I am, here is a collection of articles I read as part of my research. I’m particularly obsessed with fashion critic’s Cathy Horyn’s personal tale and Alaïa’s final interview with Tim Blanks
I must admit that I have felt bombarded with the "hosting" trend - overly curated home-dining experiences with sublime decorations for a one-time gig. They look excuisite, but when I thought how much time it would take me to set up all of them, and also spend hours cooking, I had to take a few steps back and remind myself that the point is to just have your friends over.
Just this weekend we hosted 3 of our closes knit friends - made some carbonara, had a few glasses of our drinks of choice, and to set the mood I just turned on a lovely vintage floor lamp. The conversation flowed like a river.
I loved this read! Hosting is an art form and public display of love where memories can be created. Thank you for sharing this information and inspiring us! 🫶🏼