Dinner · a note
What to tell us before a full table.
A dinner list fails when it arrives as a pile of bags and a sentence that says “you’ll see.” We can see the bags. We cannot see which one is for the friend who flew in, and which one is a bottle you meant to keep.
Send five lines. Who is coming. How many parcels. Which shapes are odd. What time the door actually opens, not the time on the invitation. And whether anyone at the table should not receive a joke inside the card.
Place names help if you are seating. Write them as you want them said. We copy, we do not invent nicknames. If two people share a gift, say so. One card, two names, one parcel. A second bow does not make it clearer.
Color is the last decision, not the first. Tell us the room — dark wood, a white cloth, a winter window — and we will keep the ribbon in one family. Six different patterns on one sideboard look like a shop, not a house.
Bring the gifts unwrapped. Tissue from the store can stay in the bag; we will not build on top of someone else’s fold. If a box is the gift, say that too. Some hosts want the box. Some want it gone.
Reserve the morning if you need them back for that night. A host table booked before noon returns the same day.