I realize magic is supposed to be irrational and silly. Maybe even a little sinister.
Nevertheless, I’ve become obsessed with pursuing magical moments. Those experiences that are just on the other side of convention, infused with wonder, joy and possibility.
They can’t be bought: Indeed, returns diminish with greater financial investment.
Nor are they, free: The harder one works, the greater the payout.
Case in point: Diner en Blanc
A couple years ago I read about the epic pop-up picnic in white that attracts 10,000 participants to a very public space in Paris each year, and thought it sounded it cool.
I started talking about it, and then talking about how cool it would be to have one in Salem, and then talking about what would need to happen to have one in Salem.
Then there were meetings, and spreadsheets, and conversations with the police. . .
And then, it happened.
One hundred fifty people dressed all in white brought their tables and chairs, white table cloths, candelabra, silver and crystal to a very public space in Salem.
The price of admission, was a lot of work, and it was magical.
More photos here.