One of the things I have come to value most deeply, both in my career and in my life, is the art of hosting.
There is something quietly profound about bringing people together: gathering like-minded souls in a room, giving them a reason to convene, connect, laugh, share and perhaps leave feeling a little more recharged than when they arrived.
Some of my earliest memories are of my parents hosting dinner parties. My mum would make her signature Asian chicken salad, and the night would almost always end with fancy Guylian or Lindt chocolates. I remember the small rituals of it all: the food, the timing, the shift from dinner to dessert, the way each part of the evening seemed to hold its own meaning. Those little touches marked the night almost like sections of a ceremony. People from different backgrounds, different relationships and different corners of my parents’ lives would arrive as separate individuals and, over the course of the evening, find some deeper point of connection.
In my working life, I have always found the act of producing an event or film deeply energising. There is an addictive thrill in the final hours before everything comes together: the adrenaline, the precision, the desire to make every detail feel considered. I love creating spaces where people from all walks of life can connect.
At its heart, filmmaking is not a solitary act. In my experience, a film crew is a group of people gathered around a shared vision, trying to bring something intangible into being.
A well-hosted event, like a well-made film, is not only about logistics. It is about atmosphere, rhythm, emotion and memory. It is about understanding which details will make someone feel welcomed, surprised, delighted or seen. The right gesture, the right lighting, the right invitation into conversation can transform a room. And when it is done well, it lingers. Like a beautifully executed scene, it stays in the memory of others long after the moment has passed.
hosting can be messy and beautiful like all art
This is also what I loved about working in retail. Retail asks you to meet strangers as they are, regardless of your own mood or mindset, and to remain genuinely curious about them. It asks you to be present. It asks you to find some way to help the person who has entered your realm.
Through my experience working with Aesop, I came to understand how powerful it can be to bring someone completely into a world through the senses: sight, sound, taste, smell and touch. Each experience was never simply transactional. Each space was designed to be atmospheric, intimate and deeply considered. One of the greatest lessons I learnt was how to host someone as though they were entering your own home. By inviting people to my home (store), I met some extraordinary people there, as customers, colleagues and members of the local community.
Offering as a ritual
Over time, I came to understand that true hospitality is not performance. It is attention. It is listening with curiosity, playfulness and a genuine desire to be there for another person. I wanted to connect with people, not simply sell to them. At the end of each purchase, we would walk the person to the door. I recognised this gesture from my parents’ dinner parties, and later from my travel experiences in Japan. It is a small act of respect, but it brings the encounter to a complete and graceful close. It says: your presence mattered until the very end.
That is what I believe the best hosting does – anticipates needs before they are spoken and creates a sense of care that is both practical and emotional. Going beyond the expected and into the realm of memory. This is something I aspire to bring into the events I organise myself, whether they are designed for people at a turning point in their lives or simply for people who need a moment of beauty, warmth and connection.
What I take from all of this
A beautifully curated hosting experience cannot be replaced by the internet, remote work or the rise of AI. These things may change how we communicate, but they cannot replicate the feeling of being welcomed into a room with care. They cannot replace the instinct to notice when someone needs tea, silence, laughter, an introduction, a question, or simply a softer place to land.
Connection, community and creativity are my core values. Hosting is where they meet. Whether through a dinner party, an event, a retreat, a retail experience or a film set, I am drawn to the same essential act: creating a world, however temporary, where people feel invited in.