It appeared to be a chic, laid-back picnic (albeit with a flashmob kind of vibe) in the heart of Melbourne.
At about 6.30pm last Saturday, close to 800 people gathered in front of the Convention and Exhibition Centre (known colloquially as Jeff’s Shed) dressed entirely in white: white shoes, white dresses, white purses, even a few white wigs.
Guests, who paid $45 each, were bused to the mystery location to enjoy a mass picnic.
It may have looked effortless, but behind the carefully constructed French insouciance was weeks upon weeks of seemingly endless preparation.
Not only were guests ordered to dress entirely in white, we had to abide by a series of strict edicts governing food, equipment and our general decorum.
Guests had to purchase their own white table (which must be smaller than 76cm x 76cm) and white foldable chairs.
We also had to bring our own three-course meal unless you opted to buy one of the pre-made hampers, although, in a concession to common sense, the food did not have to be white.
We were told to make sure the stemware and plates we brought were sufficiently elegant (no plastic cutlery, tut-tut), and in a series of emails leading up to the event were warned of the sartorial indiscretions that would see us banned from boarding the bus to the event: sports tops, singlets, T-shirts (uncollared – polos were fine), thongs, colourful sports shoes, baseball caps and hoodies.
But, despite the organisers’ strict demands, people came in droves.
Women tried valiantly to keep their spiked heels from anchoring in the soft grass, while the men tugged self-consciously at their ensembles, some of them clearly ill at ease in their all-white suits.
On the banks of the Yarra, we lit sparklers, waved our white napkins in the air to signify the start of the evening and danced to the music.
Four hours later we packed our stemware, dirty plates and tablecloths into a white garbage bag and left the area as it was when we arrived.
Diner en Blanc began in Paris in 1988 when Frenchman François Pasquier arranged an outdoor picnic and asked people to wear white so they would be easily recognised.
It became a popular annual event in the French capital and was transported to other international cities, including Montreal, New York, Brisbane, Sydney, and this year, Melbourne.
Diner en Blanc International is now held annually in 40 cities, with a total of 100,000 guests who gather at a series of meeting points across cities to be bussed to the mystery locations.
It cannot be easy organising that many people, but I questioned the chiding tone of many of the emails and the presumption that we were lucky to pay for the privilege of pretending to be French for four hours.
Guests were warned via the Diner en Blanc website that attendance at one event did not guarantee they would be invited to take part the following year, and there is generally a waiting list of thousands. This was fine with me. As the date drew closer, my friends and I were increasingly irritated by the unnecessarily wordy emails: (Where are we meeting? Who is our team leader?)
By the time the day arrived, I was exhausted by the extensive preparations and too tired from sifting through instructions to affect a sufficient air of elegance. My friends and I had fun on the night, but that was more to do with the company than joy at being part of Melbourne’s inaugural Diner en Blanc.
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