Some time ago Bec and Alastair asked if we wanted to go to Diner en Blanc, an annual event where people dress all in white and go to a secret location to have an elegant evening of food, drink and dancing. It began in Paris but has been adopted in cities around the world.

We signed up and soon after began to have doubts. Everything had to be white (except shoes). Tables had to be a specific size. Chairs foldable (and white). White table cloths and white cloth napkins. Proper cutlery and plates and glasses and three courses. And there would be dire consequences for anyone who didn’t confirm.

Not having much of anything in Toronto, it was a bit of hassle to go buy white pants (particularly after Labour Day). Julian came to the rescue with a picnic basket and a foldable table, and then went to IKEA for us to buy a couple of cheap chairs. They didn’t fold but with only a couple of days before the event we weren’t exactly concerned. By that time, I was in the frame of mind where if they wanted to stop us from getting on the bus, they damn well could. We also bought a table cloth from Bed, Bath and Beyond, which was on sale for $5.99, and then some napkins.

Wednesday rolled around. I put together our food, once again making meringues for Eton mess. Bec and Alastair bought the cream and the berries. I made a chicken salad, also a pesto dip and bought some bread and crackers. All was set. Glen raced home after work and we made it to the museum where four buses were waiting to take everyone to wherever it was we were meant to be.

We were told to be there at 5:45 but didn’t leave until 6:15. People were not all in white. There was a fair splash of cream. A wide assortment of table sizes and chair configurations, and a whole bunch of people truly excited about the night ahead. I just wanted to eat.

We boarded the bus and it took us downtown towards the water’s edge. The previous year they’d had it in a car park (which apparently got the coordinator fired or moved on) and the year before that was at Fort York. We passed Fort York so they weren’t doing a repeat. We ended up at Ontario Place, somewhere we’d never been before. We had a great view of the city.

We set up our tables in rows, laid out the table cloths, added our crockery and cutlery, put out the first course and then waited. Apparently we had to wait until everyone was seated and ready before we could start eating. Then there would be a signal, we’d twirled our napkins above our head and the evening proper would begin.

It didn’t quite work out like that. Someone started twirling their napkin, even though not everyone was setup, and it just snowballed from there. We’d already started to nibble anyway. The pesto dip went down a treat, the chicken salad less so as the dressing wasn’t very nice. Eton mess was a hit. The bottle of prosecco we bought from the supplier at the event was awful.

After dinner, we went for a bit of a walk, danced a bit, looked at the city. Then at 9:30 we all lit our sparklers, once again without a real coordinated effort, but it looked pretty in the dim light (almost dim because there were plenty of phone flashes going off as people took selfies with their sparklers).

The rules said that we had to stay to the end, which is when the buses would transport us back to our starting locations, but soon after the sparklers burned down we noticed people taking away their tables. Suddenly there were empty spaces in the line. We’d had a good enough time that we were ready to go too. We packed up, exited the venue and got straight into a taxi to take us home.

It was an interesting event. I’m not sure I need to go to it again (even though I now have white pants and a table cloth). Some people go all out though and there were some great costumes (including one woman in a wedding dress), fancy table decorations and amazing food. Must just be their thing.