It’s the season when we throw caution to the wind: cracking open crustaceans with our bare hands, sipping skinny margaritas barefoot in the grass, probably singing along to ‘Summer of ’69’ a solid 20 decibels too loud.
You could call summer a little uncivilized, or you could call it heaven. The difference is really in the accoutrements. Manhandling a lemon for your crab legs feels infinitely chicer with a swan-shaped Gohar World squeezer in hand, while a canned cocktail tastes crisper pulled from the ‘champagne cold’ interior of a FIELDBAR Drinks Box. Big breeze threatening the tablescape? There are Art Nouveau-style tablecloth weights for that now, too.
