The last-minute bottle of wine may no longer be enough. From artisan treats and fine linens to seasonal flowers, the best host gifts are small, practical and chosen with genuine thought.
4 min
Copyright 2020, Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved Worldwide. LEARN MORE
Conventional wisdom is that if you are invited to someone’s home—or on their yacht or plane—you should thank them with a host gift. Exceptions can include casual get-togethers with close friends or occasions when you’re expressly asked not to.
The best gifts appear effortless, but are chosen with immense consideration. A bottle of wine bought en route to the party, the old standby for many, is no longer one of them.
When choosing a gift, it’s helpful to follow certain parameters: nothing too ostentatious, too hefty or too idiosyncratic in design. At the same time, thinking outside the box can show a deeper level of thoughtfulness. Here’s how to pull it off.
Thom Bettridge, an editor and writer in New York, has a rule of thumb: he only buys gifts that are smaller than a breadbox, to minimize the space that they take up in hosts’ homes. He likes thoughtfully designed playing cards or cookies from a specialty bakery.
Imported sea salt also passes the breadbox test. It’s a gift that Los Angeles fashion designer Zoe Latta often gives to friends. She said fancy salt is always well received because it’s an elevated version of an everyday staple that most people use.
Another small gift—a favorite of Salima Boufelfel, a founder of vintage clothing stores in New York, Paris and Tucson, Ariz.—is Santa Maria Novella’s scented pomegranate, a terracotta vessel that smells like and resembles the fruit. “It scents closets and laundry rooms,” she said.
Part of being a good guest, according to Bettridge, ”is understanding subtle helpfulness.”
When New York City Ballet principal dancer Unity Phelan is invited on a group trip to someone’s home, she and her husband try to stop at a nearby market or farm stand to buy a bounty of fruit and vegetables that everyone can enjoy throughout the stay.
Even if your host seems to have it all, that isn’t a reason to forgo bringing a gift. “People think that ultrahigh net-worth people are buying everything and they are not,” said Kelly Bensimon, the model-turned-reality-TV-star-turned-real-estate-agent.
Thoughtful knickknacks are something that people of any social status can appreciate, Bensimon added. She likes giving dish towels made of fine European linen, which she often gets at Clic, the French homewares boutique with locations in California, New York City, the Hamptons and St. Barts.
“You want to find things that will blend in,” said Latta, the fashion designer. Clear glassware that can be easily mixed with a host’s other cups is a good option, she said.
Fresh flowers, another old standby, endure as a suitable host gift—if you get them from a local florist, not a corner store, and go with seasonal varieties. For a cleaner look, Kaelen Haworth, the owner of a luxury-clothing store in Toronto, likes choosing flowers in a single color or type, not an assortment.
If you’re going with flowers, sometimes it’s better to send them after the fact—for instance, if you’re invited on a private plane. Zachary Weiss, a writer in New York, likes to send orchids to his hosts well after landing. “It comes down to practicality,” he said.
It’s easy to leave gift-buying to the last minute. Stockpiling some trinkets will help you avoid the scramble.
When she’s not giving flowers, Haworth likes to give skin care—specifically from independent brands or products from other countries, which she buys in bulk when she travels. “I went to Greece and bought 15 bottles of a sunscreen they don’t have in the U.S.”
Sometimes, life gets in the way and grabbing wine might be the only alternative to showing up empty-handed. If you’re invited somewhere with your significant other, do as New York ceramist Shane Gabier does and get two bottles of wine—a gesture more generous than showing up with just one.
The Australian leather house has opened an immersive four-day pop-up in Manhattan, unveiling its Bloom Collection and redefining what a product launch can look like.
Following the successful launch of its Palais Collection, MAISON de SABRÉ has unveiled a new modular handbag system offering more than 720 styling combinations.
Restaurants are pushing back against phone-filled dining with lockable pouches, screen-free policies and playful challenges—helping guests put down their devices and reconnect over a meal.
4 min
It wasn’t all that long ago that restaurants and bars around the country were dappled in the glow of cigarettes. Those days are over, but diners haven’t stopped lighting up—now it’s just with the blinding OLED gleam from their phones.
My seven-year run as a bartender started in the BlackBerry era and ended a few years after the birth of the iPhone. Back then, phone interruptions were mostly relegated to a few stray pings. If someone picked up a phone, it was usually only to say “Can I call you back?”
Today, phones are as common in a table-setting as napkins and silverware. If diners themselves aren’t pulling them out to check messages and social media, they’re likely in the background as others record Instagram videos or make FaceTime calls.
Many restaurants and patrons alike are pushing back against the shift that has turned collegial, communal spaces into places to watch TikTok while you eat. Here’s what some are doing—and what we can learn from them.
Antagonist, a cocktail bar in Charlotte, N.C., is pretty antagonistic about phones. Upon entry, each customer receives a lockable Yondr pouch—the same bag some schools use to store students’ phones—that can only be opened by the staff.
“The main goal of our whole concept here really isn’t to burden anybody or take away their property,” Adam Horner, Antagonist’s general manager, said. “It’s essentially just to bring back a little slice of human connection that we all feel has been lost with technology.”
Even if your dinner destination doesn’t have the same rules, you can still borrow the basic idea. Keep your phone somewhere inconvenient or even mildly inaccessible: in your coat pocket, for instance, or your purse.
While Horner admits some patrons have arched an eyebrow at Antagonist’s policy, the benefit of having a place where people can be part of an organic social scene has far outweighed the potential loss of customers, he said. “I strongly encourage people to give it a chance, and sometimes they don’t and they go somewhere else.”
The Edge, a local spot in Manhattan’s Harlem neighborhood, is a bit less rigid about phones. There’s no ban on them, but the restaurant doesn’t offer internet access. A sign at its bar reads: “No Wi-Fi. No Screens. Connect With Each Other.”
The directive is meant to encourage “stepping away from the digital and being present in the moment,” said Justine Masters, who owns The Edge with her sister Juliet.
Another way anyone with a smartphone can separate themselves from the internet: turn on Airplane mode. It may sound obvious, but it’s a simple and effective way to minimize phone-induced distractions while dining out.
For those wanting to break the grip of a bad habit, one tactic is to replace it with another better-for-you thrill. That’s the strategy behind the fast-food chain Chick-fil-A’s “cellphone coops.”
At a number of locations, diners can request a coop—a cardboard box—where they can put their phones while they eat. The goal is get groups to make it through an entire meal without checking their phones, with free ice cream as a reward. The coops even feature conversation prompts for the table.
You don’t need a cardboard coop to emulate the competition elsewhere—and if ice cream isn’t enough of a draw, treat the person who goes longest without using their phone to a free drink. Or make the loser pay the tip.
The point is to create rituals that result in discipline and, slowly, new habits.
The ubiquity of phones has not only eroded our manners, but also lessened the joys of bar and dining culture. One of Chris Hall’s favorite watering holes is The Saloon in Washington, D.C., a community-orientated beer bar with no televisions and a blanket ban on all phone use.
For him, it’s a bulwark against a bar culture that has become “very insular and not very fun.” He added that, over the years, he’s made at least a dozen friends at The Saloon. “You can talk to strangers in this place.”
Tina Vaughn and Chip Smith, the husband-and-wife owners of Eulalie, an upscale cloth-napkin bistro in Tribeca, also forbid phone use at their restaurant.
The policy is spelled out on a sign in the entryway and on the restaurant’s handwritten menus. Vaughn sees it as a way to help patrons combat the pressure to always be available.
“People want an excuse. They’re dying for someone to say, ‘You can get off that. It’s OK,’ ” she said. “The phone has become less a tool and more of a stress bomb, I feel, for so many.”
