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If there’s anyone who I’d turn to for advice on lush, maximalist gatherings, it’s Mariana Velásquez. The food stylist, designer, and author of the cookbook Colombiana: A Rediscovery of Rituals from the Soul of Colombia fully embodies the ethos of more is more in her cooking, home goods, and big-hearted personality.
Luckily, we now get an inside look at how she hosts—Velásquez has released Revel: A Maximalist’s Guide to Having People Over, a boisterous guide to party-throwing with 85 recipes and menus for get-togethers at any hour, morning or night. (I mean, who doesn’t want to be invited to an evening titled “Red Wine, Red Lips, and a Roast Chicken” or asked to partake in a “Deconstructed Pie Bar”?)
In this excerpt, Velásquez shares where she looks for inspiration and how she mixes high and low with menus and place settings.
Hosting begins long before the first person arrives. It’s in the planning, the sketching of ideas, the deliberate design of each detail. For me, this process is as much about creating beauty for others as it is about caring for myself. It’s my way of channeling inspiration, of nurturing my own spirit. In that flow of creativity—curating flavors, textures, and moments—I find myself replenished. It’s from this place of fullness that I’m able to give freely, with a contented heart.
The truth is that a depleted home can’t cradle others in its warmth. So the initial step of hosting is tending to your own self—making your space a place of comfort and inspiration for you so that bounty can be shared later. To embrace others in the symbolic womb of your home, you must honor your own needs—your surroundings, your energy level, your joy, your frustrations. Being present for yourself is what helps create connection and community.
Setting the Mood
The mood of a dinner party is set long before the first bite. It’s in the mise-en-scène: the interplay of lighting, texture, and mood, where every element—candles flickering in brass holders, linens draped and layered with intention, and tableware curated with care—comes together to create an atmosphere. More than just what’s on the table, it’s the thoughtful florals or seasonal greenery, the curated playlist humming in the background, the flourishes of a handwritten menu, that invite friends to lean in and linger.
Inspiration appears in the most unexpected of places; you just have to be paying attention. It might flow from a leisurely stroll through the streets of a city or a single ingredient that stands out at the market. It could be a sentence in a magazine profile or the history of a New York apartment. Mood can flow from a type of cuisine, a religious celebration, an over-the-top outfit, or a careful selection of a person’s favorite dishes or flavors. It doesn’t have to be boring or safe, but neither should it be gimmicky or forced.
I draw inspiration from art, film, nature, a historical period, or a season, then organize the elements in one place, digital or analog, which lets me clarify and visualize how everything comes together. When searching for a visual language or tone I resort to well-branded packaging with interesting colors, illustrations, and typography. I am constantly hunting for films, landscapes, books, and other artworks that transport.
Unruly Elegance: Where High Meets Low
At the heart of what I call unruly elegance is authenticity as informed rule-breaking. Cultural tastemakers don’t just mix high and low for shock value; they do it with finesse, awareness, and an instinct for what works. The magic is in the details and how they interact.
Playful Tension
French fries on a silver platter passed around at a party aren’t just ironic; they work because of context. Are they fresh from a takeout box, steaming and crisp? Are they paired with homemade aioli in a ceramic bowl? Intention elevates and delights.
Texture and Contrast
Humble bean soup with rice served at a fully set table with starched linen napkins and polished silver. Sardines served right out of the tin with mother-of-pearl inlaid forks, accompanied by creamy butter and a hunk of sourdough bread. What makes it land isn’t just the mix, but the careful attention to how the elements belong together.
Cultural Anchors
The French serve radishes with butter and salt—what’s the contemporary, democratic take? Wine served in tumblers, chilled soup poured into cups to sip—no need for a spoon and, suddenly, it’s chic.
