Last winter, at exactly the same time of year, while spending the Christmas holidays in my family home, tucked away in a small town in the French Alps, I came across, almost by chance, a small booklet published by the house of Christofle in the 1950s, titled L’Art de dresser la table (The Art of Setting the Table). It was written by Luc Lanel (1893-1965), a designer, metal artisan, and decorator, known both for his Art Deco industrial designs and for creating silverware and cutlery for some of the most prestigious luxury houses, including Christofle.
The cover, a deep fir green, was adorned with an elegant typeface, the kind I have always loved, with the word dresser subtly highlighted in a soft cream shade. A discreet object, almost easy to overlook if one were in a hurry, yet one that carries a very precise kind of knowledge. I imagine it once belonged to my grandmother, or to someone in my family, perhaps accompanying a Christofle service given as a wedding gift. At that time, setting the table was a true art of receiving, grounded in gestures that were simple, logical, and deeply reassuring.
Over the past few weeks, as I hosted several dinners at home, I found myself returning to it. Quite practically. Because, I must admit, I no longer always knew where to place the cutlery or the glasses, how to structure a table that felt elegant without becoming rigid. But also, more broadly, what the customs were, this distinctly French art of setting the table. And I realised that this was precisely why such guides existed. As I leafed through the booklet, it became clear to me that these older rules, once understood and simplified, remain surprisingly relevant, and above all, incredibly useful, especially as Christmas and New Year’s Eve approach.
In today’s article, I therefore wanted to share the essentials of setting a table the French way, inspired by this Christofle booklet from the 1950s, but adapted to how we receive today. I hope these simple reference points will be helpful to you as well, if you too wish to welcome friends or family with that French touch you enjoy so much, one rooted in care, simplicity, and attention.
The Plate
At a French table, everything begins with the plate. A dinner plate is placed first, serving as the foundation of the setting. On top of it, it is entirely traditional (and very elegant) to place a smaller plate, either for the starter or simply as a presentation plate. This upper plate is removed before the main course. Although the term itself is never explicitly used, this practice appears very clearly in the Christofle booklet through its images. It gives structure to the table, anchors it visually, and allows the meal to unfold naturally, course after course.
The napkin is kept deliberately simple: placed on the plate (or on the presentation plate), or set to the left of the plate. Elaborate folds are avoided. A neatly pressed rectangular or square fold is more than enough. Elegance is never found in excess, but in the precision of the gesture.
Cutlery
This is often where hesitation arises, even though the logic is remarkably simple. To the right of the plate: the knife, with the blade facing inward. To the left of the plate: the fork is placed with its tines facing the table, leaving the curved back visible. If several pieces of cutlery are required, the one used first is placed furthest from the plate.
One essential detail, clearly visible in the Christofle booklet: cutlery is aligned at the bottom. The ends of the handles form a straight line, parallel to the edge of the table, set a few centimetres in from it. These discreet alignments immediately create a sense of order and visual calm. In the Christofle spirit, it is always preferable to bring additional cutlery during the meal rather than overcrowd the table from the start.
Bread
It is a simple detail, yet deeply French, and one that is sometimes overlooked. Bread is traditionally placed to the left of the plate, above the forks. Depending on the style of the dinner, it may be: set on a small bread plate, or placed directly on the tablecloth, which is perfectly acceptable in a more intimate setting. Here again, the rule is not rigid. What matters is that the bread remains accessible without cluttering the table. It is part of the meal, not a decorative element.
Glassware
At a French table, the arrangement of glasses follows the order of service, not their size. If all glasses are set on the table, the traditional order is, from left to right:
- the champagne coupe (as champagne is traditionally served as an apéritif),
- the water glass,
- the red wine glass,
- the white wine glass.
This order may seem surprising today, but it is entirely logical: the glass for the wine served first is placed closest to the guest. This is not a rule of tasting, but one of gesture and readability. Of course, in a contemporary setting, simplifying is perfectly acceptable: water and a single wine glass are often sufficient.
Dessert
In the French tradition, dessert cutlery is not placed on the table from the beginning. The small spoon (or dessert fork) is: brought out with the dessert, or placed on a sideboard beforehand. This keeps the table light as the meal unfolds.
The Centrepiece
The Christofle booklet is very clear on this point: nothing should interfere with sightlines or conversation. A French-style centrepiece is therefore: low, discreet, or even temporary. It is perfectly elegant to place a vase of fresh flowers or branches on the table, then remove it once everyone sits down, making room for dishes and conversation. A few well-placed candles are often enough to create the right atmosphere.
Light
In the booklet, light is treated as a central component of the table. Dinner calls for soft lighting, never harsh or overly direct. Candles play a key role: they bring life to silverware, make crystal sparkle, and soften faces. Dining by candlelight is not a decorative flourish. It is a French approach, designed to encourage conversation, slowness, and intimacy.
The Tablecloth
For a dinner or supper, a tablecloth is traditionally recommended. The booklet emphasises: a clean tablecloth, carefully pressed, falling evenly on all sides. White remains the classic reference, but today a beautiful natural linen or a deep, muted colour works just as well, provided the overall harmony is preserved. One very French detail, often forgotten: a padded underlay beneath the tablecloth, which improves drape, absorbs noise, and immediately gives the table more presence.
Place Cards and the Menu
For festive dinners, place cards are entirely appropriate: set above the plate, or placed on the presentation plate. The menu may be handwritten (the most elegant option) or simply printed. It is usually: placed at the centre of the table, or set individually on the plate or to the left of it.
The Rhythm of a French Dinner
What the Christofle booklet suggests very clearly, without ever stating it as a strict rule, is that a French meal unfolds slowly. In France, it is common to: allow 20 to 30 minutes between courses, clear the table calmly, let conversation settle before serving the next dish. This rhythm serves an essential purpose: it allows guests to breathe, to savour the moment, and to transform dinner into a shared experience rather than a simple sequence of courses. This is also why the table evolves throughout the meal. It becomes lighter, shifts, and gradually opens up. A French table is never fixed, it follows the rhythm of the dinner, never the other way around.
So there it is. I followed, almost to the letter, the gestures and principles laid out in this Christofle booklet, and I must say that for the two dinners I hosted, the table truly made an impression. Not through display or excess, but because it immediately created the right atmosphere, one that felt welcoming, natural, and quietly considered.
Setting a table the French way is never about performance. It is a subtle way of saying to those you welcome: you are expected. From the outside, it may seem like a form of ceremony, but I can assure you that this attention to detail does just one thing, it calms the moment, and allows everyone to fully enjoy both the meal and the conversation. These are the gestures I like to think of as the art of little nothings that make the great everything. They require a little time, a little care, sometimes a modest personal investment, yet most often, they cost nothing more than what one already has at home. And still, their effect is quietly transformative.
As Christmas and New Year’s Eve approach, I find comfort in the idea that elegance lies less in what is shown than in the discreet attention paid to details. A table that is simple, harmonious, warm, and deeply convivial. I’ll end by wishing you a very happy holiday season, and a joyful Christmas. Joyeux Noël!
