TikTok Is Encouraging Me to Host a Dinner Party—But It’s 2025, and I’m No Billionaire

Recently, TikTok appears committed to persuading me to host a lavish dinner gathering. Perhaps it’s the seasonal transition into spring—historically a period for socializing—but the app’s unending supply of impeccably styled dinner party content feels particularly jarring amid the economic instability of April 2025.

The phrase “dinner party” now embodies an essence of understated luxury. Unlike the warm, communal atmosphere of the cottagecore potlucks and picnics popular in 2018, the contemporary dinner party style focuses on extravagance. TikTok’s aim isn’t for you to throw a low-key gathering; it urges you to create an event fit for a lifestyle magazine feature.

Upon launching the app, you’re greeted with a deluge of opulent visuals: tables brimming with gourmet delicacies, soaring floral arrangements, stylish ceramic plates with scalloped edges, and a seemingly endless supply of tapered candles. It transcends mere dining—it transforms into a spectacle.

So, what exactly are we witnessing here? Is it the sound of glasses clinking at an influencer’s soirée in the Lower East Side, indicating a novel kind of social capital? Or could it be a subtle reflection of economic inequality—a symbol of status from a recession epoch, adorned with aesthetic lighting?

Let Them Indulge in Cake (and $19 Strawberries)

Food has consistently been a symbol of wealth. In the 1700s, pineapples were so scarce they became emblematic of high status. By the 1800s, even celery was regarded as a luxury. During the Victorian age, dinner parties were reserved for the elite, who possessed the time and means to organize lavish meals.

Jump to 2025, and food is once again a luxury item. With skyrocketing grocery costs, fresh fruits and artisanal products have evolved into symbols of status. Viral TikTok bakeries and $19 strawberries from Erewhon are now cultural treasures, comparable to limited-edition sneakers or designer handbags.

Celebrities like Hailey Bieber casually showcase bags of vibrant produce in advertisements, signifying wealth through abundance. Meanwhile, “tradwives” on TikTok present their seemingly effortless, home-cooked meals—another unattainable ideal for those navigating work, bills, and inflation.

Fashion is also tapping into the food-as-luxury craze. Designers like Loewe and Lisa Says Gah are featuring pasta, shrimp, and tomatoes on a range of items from shirts to handbags. As Megan Wahn from Bon Appétit remarked, “Food and clothing used to be essentials for survival—now they merge as sources of enjoyment. They’re objects of spectacle.”

Andrea Hernández, the mind behind the Snaxshot newsletter, informed Fast Company that this trend emerged post-2020. “Food scarcity paired with rising grocery costs is a reality, and our generation turned fancy smoothies into a symbol of affordable affluence. It’s Gen Z’s ‘avocado toast trope.’”

So, What Does This All Imply?

Is the surge of the dinner party a subtle indicator of recession? Not conventionally—it’s not linked to GDP or unemployment figures—but it does mirror broader cultural changes. When showcasing a new home or luxury vehicle feels disconnected, flaunting an elegantly arranged meal becomes the fresh mark of status.

In 2025, the divide between the affluent and the underprivileged might simply hinge on who can still purchase eggs. And what better way to exhibit your wealth than by feeding friends, illuminating a dozen candles, arranging some greenery, and sharing it all on TikTok?

Dinner parties may not serve as a direct measurement of economic downturn, but they certainly reflect our current realities—where food, once deemed essential, has evolved into the ultimate symbol of privilege.