My friend Evie is remarkable. She's an art teacher, she's a friend, and she's got handwriting that might as well be it's own font. (In fact, Evie, did you know that you could actually make it a font?)
Evie's also part of the magic behind Twelve at the Table, a Nashville pop-up dining experience unlike any other (and which I've yet to experience). Oh yes. And she's part Swedish. So when someone this creative and talented throws a birthday party—watch out pinterest and self-confidence. You're about to be blown away.
Just a few blocks away from us in Sylvan park, Evie's made her "state" street house look like a magazine worthy flat in New York City. Then, there's the remarkable food, drink, and atmosphere that only she can create.
Evie, this is my tribute to your dazzling night. Happy birthday!
Notice: Two perfectly placed sconces. Matching Chairs. Swedish Candies. Mini Bar.
Notice my misplaced wine and clutch—I am not a product stylist.
The kitchen. Brilliant!
Steaming Swedish glögg and Swedish meatballs.
Homemade bread, not pictured, Swedish meatballs. Better than Schweddy balls.
Slightly blurry boot, but you see what I was trying to do there.
Thad's poncho. Cozy.
Beautiful Jessica Rose.
Roar.
Outdoor carport turned into dining space. Yep. This was the moment where I considered never throwing a party again because Evie had put me to shame.
And the rest:
Ice rings with pine.
Happy Birthday Evie!!