Seriously. Dining.

Parties? Whatever. 

Presents? Keep em.

I'm all about the sit down dinner, kid. I want to rub elbows with obscure relatives and hear stories about cousins I didn't know I had that involve embarrassing family secrets. And I want to do it here:

Look at this traditional table. Look at those big, comfy chairs and wood legs and dark finish. I want to watch Aunt Gerty get drunk at this table and say things that make us all a little uncomfortable. 

I want to wake up, rub my eyes, and eat leftovers for breakfast right here:

I want to pack the whole, hungover family at this custom oak banquette and watch my good-for-nothing brother poke at his pumpkin waffles and mumble incoherently. I want to talk about going shopping, but then think better of it and instead have another mimosa.

I want to have dinner at this guy's house:

He serves really good scotch and his hot wife dresses totally inappropriately and always takes her shoes off after dinner and leaves them on the coffee table. He got these zebra patterned chairs because he wanted to stay "rock-n-roll" even though he's a corporate attorney and wouldn't know Dr. Dre from Dr. Phil but who cares, man, did you see his wife?? I love the leg on this table: the Queen Anne meets Elvira meets Elvis vibe of it. New Years at this guys house is off the rails, kid, trust me on this.

Big, traditional trestle leg monsters:

Post industrial, splatter punk artworks:

Modern re-examinations of urban green hipsters:

Dining tables are where it's at. You know how they say that the party always ends up in the kitchen? Well, yeah, but it always STARTS at the dining table.

--Daniel