For me, it starts with the relationship between art and food. Food isn’t just nourishment, and art isn’t just something to look at. They exist in a dialogue, and it’s not always clear where one ends and the other begins. That overlap, that tension, is really where the creative process lives for me, and it’s the space I hope guests step into.
When someone sits at a Gigi Lemon table, I want them to notice those connections—to engage with both the tangible and the conceptual at the same time. It becomes a shared moment that is sensory, reflective, and deeply human. A moment where people feel present, connected, and part of something larger than themselves.
It really depends. Because I work with a different chef almost every month, it’s impossible—and honestly unnecessary—to have a fixed structure. That flexibility is part of what makes the process special. I’m very open-minded, and I try to take from each chef whatever they bring to the table.
Sometimes the process is very collaborative: the chef wants to engage deeply with the concept, and we develop the menu together in response to the theme. Other times, I start from something more visual—a mood board that isn’t about taste as much as atmosphere—and I ask the chef to respond to it, maybe through color, form, or aesthetic choices.
And occasionally, everything begins with the chef themselves. Someone might come to me with a very specific idea—“I’d really like to build a butter sculpture,” for example—and from there, I develop the theme, find the right location, and build the entire experience around that initial gesture.
Every project starts from a different place, and that’s exactly what keeps the creative process alive and exciting for me.
The short answer is people. Spaces are physical, but they don’t really exist without the people who inhabit them. One of the core pillars of Gigi Lemon is community, and it’s the people who bring each gathering to life and give it meaning.
The location matters, of course—but more as a frame than as the essence of the experience. A beautiful one, she adds, but still a frame. What truly creates the environment is what happens within it: the conversations, the shared moments, the sense of presence. That is where the place exists—beyond walls, beyond time.
This is probably the golden question—especially now that the events are growing. At my last supper club, someone told me, “I felt so safe and comfortable, and everyone here seems so like-minded,” and then asked me how I do it. Honestly, I don’t really know.
I think a lot of it is already built into the idea of the supper club itself. If someone is willing to sit at a table with strangers, knowing there’s a theme or concept, a big part of society is already filtered out. To step into these spaces, you need to be open-minded and judgment-free—not necessarily creative, but willing to stretch your perspective a little. That’s the first layer.
Someone once told me that, unconsciously, I—as a person more than as a “brand”—attract this kind of person. And I think there’s some truth in that. Without a big branding strategy, the right people seem to find their way in. They show up, they participate, and little by little, they help build the community themselves. Seeing that happen makes me really proud.
What excites me most is seeing the project grow while still feeling intimate. At almost every event, there’s a balance between familiar faces and new people, and to me, that’s the real definition of community. The people who come back create a kind of core—they give each gathering a foundation. Seeing them there gives me calm and confidence, and it helps new guests feel comfortable right away.
In that sense, Gigi Lemon isn’t something I’m building alone. It’s a living, collaborative project, shaped by the people who participate in it. Of course, I have many dreams for the future—sometimes I’m probably a bit delusional in thinking I can do everything—but I want to make it bigger without losing its intimacy or becoming exclusive. I’m still searching for the right balance.
In the coming year, I’m planning to release a magazine: a curated portfolio of past events and a space to continue the dialogue between the three pillars of Gigi Lemon—food, art, and community. Beyond that, my wish is simple: to keep creating these experiences, nurturing the community around them, and seeing where the project can naturally evolve.
