The Long Table

For women ready to feel alive in their own lives again.

A women’s cultural immersion experience designed to restore appetite, for food, conversation, beauty, and identity, in spaces where you are seen beyond your roles and invited to take up space without performance.

A women’s cultural immersion designed to restore appetite.

For food.
For conversation.
For beauty.
For the woman underneath the roles.
Restoring appetite for your own life.

I went to Italy alone because I wanted to see who I am when I’m not needed.

Not needed to organise.
Not needed to steady everyone else.
Not needed to remember the details.

Driving a tiny Fiat down an open highway, the Dolomites rising in the distance, windows down, eating bread and prosciutto because I remembered doing that exact thing thirty years earlier as an eleven-year-old girl sitting under a tree in Rome.

When I bit into the bread, every sense came flooding back.
The smell. The warmth. The salt.

I started crying in the car. Tears of happiness rolling down my cheeks. A smile so big.

Something was finally right.

I felt alive.

Just me.

I went to Italy alone

because I wanted to see who I am when I’m not needed.

Core memories live in the body.

They wait for us in places that feel like bone-level yes.

When you arrive somewhere no one knows your history, something reveals itself. You feel free to be yourself or discover yourself without any masks.

You don’t have to uphold who you’ve always been. You don’t have to meet expectations you didn’t consciously agree to.

You get to try yourself again. You hear your laugh differently. You pay attention to what excites you.
You practice being yourself without the titles.

That curiosity built The Long Table.

When I chose to go alone, it stirred things.

My partner didn’t like it. Other women projected their fear.

There were comments about leaving kids, about why alone, about whether it was necessary.

Or my personal favorite, “I could never do that. You're so brave.”

The guilt was real.
But so was the knowing.

It still is to this day one of the best holidays I’ve ever taken.

That trip didn’t distance me from my family. It brought me back softer. I listened differently. I loved differently. I felt more like myself inside my life.

It even had a ripple effect. Later, my partner travelled alone to Scotland. He finally understood what it felt like to go travel alone. Something shifted in both of us.

We expanded separately and met each other again with more honesty. It deepened us.

Choosing yourself has a way of strengthening everything around you.

There is room to be mother and woman. Partner and individual.

The Long Table holds that room open and gives you a place to be all of you.

Sometimes you think you understand how much you carry.

You know your mind runs constantly. You know you hold a lot for other people.

And then you land somewhere, thousands of miles away from home, that feels good in your bones and you realise how loud it’s been inside your head.

There’s a physical exhale that happens when you are somewhere you don’t have to perform competence.

Italy has that quality.

Long lunches that stretch into evening.

What you see is a presence, people really listening, laughing, engaging.

Phones aren’t in everyone’s hands.

Life is simpler and with that, more beautiful

Families talking with their hands.

Language you don’t quite speak but attempt anyway.

Strangers who ask questions that surprise you.

You look a little silly.
You laugh.
You order the wrong thing.
You figure it out.

You catch yourself day dreaming of the things you forgot you cared about.

Like that hobby you’ve always wanted to try.

Like the things you want to accomplish in life.

You see yourself in the woman sitting across from you sharing her story and relate so deeply, you could cry.

Your appetite returns.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re feeling.

Deeply. You’re engaged. You feel your own depth again.

You feel that thing inside you that has been whispering that there was something missing but you were afraid to listen.

You’ll sit at a literal long table in Italy.

The long table is a metaphor for the way Italians live and enjoy life.

They still sit down.
They still use food to connect.
They still end the day together.

It doesn’t get dark early, so the table stretches.
Conversations aren’t rushed.
Stories overlap.
Hands move when they talk.

You’ll hear yourself laughing and realise you haven’t sounded like that in years.

You’ll sit at a table where no one needs you to organise anything.
You’re not the one packing lunches.
You’re not the one managing moods.
You’re not the responsible one.

You’re just… there.

You talk about the train you almost missed.

The broken Italian you tried anyway.

The tiny surge of pride when you ordered for yourself.

And somewhere between the noise and the depth, you notice something unfamiliar.

Appetite.
For food.
For conversation.
For yourself.

You may come alone.

Many women will.

Going alone forces engagement.

It stretches you in subtle, powerful ways.

Like sitting next to a stranger on the 12 hour flight and becoming friends.

Navigating the taxi ride to the villa and trusting yourself to get there safely.

It makes room for the unexpected conversation that shifts something in you.

It opens the doors for you to explore your own playfulness and wonder.

Who is this for?

For the woman who loves culture and slowness.

Who feels lit up by the sound of another language.

Who misses sitting at a table with no rush.

Who longs for a day she doesn’t have to clean up after everyone.

Who wants to feel appetite, a true pulsing gut feeling, for life, for beauty, and conversation without apologising for it.

Who is curious about who she is when no one knows her history. When she’s jet lagged & paragliding.

You will eat well.

You will walk slowly.

You will get lost and figure it out.

You will laugh at yourself.

You will feel your nervous system settle in places you didn’t know were tight.

And when you return home, you won’t feel like you escaped your life.

You’ll feel more present inside it.

More playful with your children.

More open with your partner.

More honest with yourself.

More confident in that dress.

More free with the windows down in the car.

Appetite restored.

Beauty without earning it.

You can finally relax, let go, have fun, be yourself, and express your aliveness.

Hi, I’m Emily.

I’m not a retreat leader who figured this out neatly.

I’m a mother of three who stayed too long in places that didn’t fit because I didn’t want to be the one who unravelled everything.

I built a business under pressure because I had no choice.

I learned to fly a paraglider because I was tired of living in my head and needed to feel my body again.

I’ve been the hyper-capable one.

The steady one.
The strong one.

And I’ve also been the woman crying in a car in Italy because a piece of bread brought her back to herself.

My work isn’t about fixing women.

It’s about creating spaces where their nervous systems soften enough for truth to come back online.

Sometimes that’s in a salon chair.

Sometimes it’s in a four-wheel drive at the edge of discomfort.

And sometimes it’s at a long table in Italy where you realise you are more than the roles you’ve been performing.

I don’t believe in blowing your life up.

I believe in expanding it from the inside.

If you come to Italy with me, I won’t promise transformation.

And space to meet the version of you that’s been waiting quietly underneath responsibility.

I will promise honesty.

Depth.
Beauty.
Stretch.
Laughter.

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