January 31, 2026 | 6PM | Atlanta, GA (address disclosed to guests only)
Long Tablecloth Dinners are a slow, hand-crafted evening designed to make mothers the honored guests instead of the hosts. Every detail, from the food to the conversation, is created to feed not just bodies but the parts of women that are always giving and rarely received. It’s an immersive reminder that being cared for is not indulgent; it’s essential.
Come take your seat at the table; where every gathering becomes part of something larger, stitched together one evening, one story, one mother at a time. These dinners move like installations: a traveling sanctuary set with intention, candlelight, and care.
You’ll sit among mothers who understand the invisible work, the tenderness, the exhaustion, and the small joys that shape us. You’ll eat, rest, and speak -or stay quiet. You’ll see who sat in your seat before, what she left behind, and you’ll leave your own mark on the cloth for the next mother to find.
Each table is both dinner and document; a record of what it feels like to mother in this moment in time. Come build this living archive of motherhood with me.
January 31, 2026 | 6PM | Atlanta, GA (address disclosed to guests only)
Long Tablecloth Dinners are a slow, hand-crafted evening designed to make mothers the honored guests instead of the hosts. Every detail, from the food to the conversation, is created to feed not just bodies but the parts of women that are always giving and rarely received. It’s an immersive reminder that being cared for is not indulgent; it’s essential.
Come take your seat at the table; where every gathering becomes part of something larger, stitched together one evening, one story, one mother at a time. These dinners move like installations: a traveling sanctuary set with intention, candlelight, and care.
You’ll sit among mothers who understand the invisible work, the tenderness, the exhaustion, and the small joys that shape us. You’ll eat, rest, and speak -or stay quiet. You’ll see who sat in your seat before, what she left behind, and you’ll leave your own mark on the cloth for the next mother to find.
Each table is both dinner and document; a record of what it feels like to mother in this moment in time. Come build this living archive of motherhood with me.
