A walled garden in the Hudson Valley, a hundred and twenty guests, and a brief that came down to one sentence: it should look like nobody styled it.

That is harder than it sounds. We planted nothing and imported almost nothing. The florals were cut from within thirty miles and arranged loose. The tables were the garden’s own, scrubbed and left bare. The lighting was the only real intervention — five hundred metres of festoon run above the beds so the space held together after sunset.

The rain plan was a glasshouse at the far end of the garden. We did not need it, but it was dressed and ready from noon.