Evenings worth clearing a diary for.

Eight courses from the kitchen pass, paired by the head sommelier, with the evening's menu printed under your name.

Ninety minutes in empty galleries with a curator, followed by coffee in a room the public never sees.

Car to the pad, wheels up on your schedule, and a driver waiting on the grass when you land.

A private terrace, a menu written for the occasion, and the city arranged behind you like a set piece.

A closed room, a trio chosen for you, and a bar kept quietly stocked until the last song.

Dinner among gallerists and collectors, held in a working gallery, with viewing before the doors open.