The Death of Networking and the Return of the Salon
There is a specific kind of dread that comes with the phrase "networking event."
You know the scene. A windowless room, lukewarm white wine in plastic cups, and a sea of people scanning your chest for a nametag before they even look at your eyes. It is a room full of hunters, everyone armed with an elevator pitch and an agenda, desperately looking for a transaction.
For me, this setting is a special kind of hell.
Here is a confession: I am a massive introvert.
People see me on stage or running a company and assume I love the crowd. The truth is, "working a room" drains my soul. Small talk is my kryptonite. I don't want to meet 50 people for two minutes each; I want to meet three people and talk to them for four hours.
I am officially declaring the era of "networking" over. In a world that is starving for genuine connection, it feels gross. It is extractive. It is boring.
The new power move isn't working the room. It’s building the room. It is the return of the Salon.
The Transactional Trap
The problem with traditional networking is that it starts from a place of deficit. It asks, "What can you do for me?"
It reduces humans to resources. It creates a vibe of desperation that repels the very people you actually want to meet. High-value people—the "10/10s," the sovereign creatives, the true visionaries—can smell an agenda from a mile away. They don't go to networking events.
So if you want to meet them—and if you, like me, find the traditional mixer exhausting—you have to stop networking and start hosting.
The Art of the Modern Salon
I am obsessed with the concept of the 1920s literary salon. Think Gertrude Stein in Paris. She didn't host "networking mixers." She hosted evenings of art, argument, wine, and food. She brought together painters, writers, and philosophers not to exchange business cards, but to exchange energy.
This is the vibe we need to bring back.
For an introvert, the Salon is the ultimate hack. It gives you control. You aren't walking into a chaotic room of strangers; you are curating a safe, high-vibe container in your own space. You get to skip the awkward pleasantries and dive straight into the deep, "world-building" conversations that actually energize you.
Networking is about volume; The Salon is about curation.
Networking is about the pitch; The Salon is about the conversation.
Networking is about what you do; The Salon is about who you are.
How to Host a Strategic Dinner Party
You don't need a Paris apartment to do this. You just need a table and a point of view. Here is my playbook for hosting a gathering that actually matters.
Curate for Chemistry, Not Resume
Don't invite ten tech founders. That’s a board meeting, not a party. The magic happens in the mix. Invite a founder, an artist, a writer, and someone who just has great stories. The "Tech Chic" philosophy is about breaking silos. When you put a coder next to a painter, that is where the sparks fly.
The Strict "No Pitch" Rule
When I host, I set the tone immediately. We are here to connect as humans first. We leave the elevator pitches at the door. This rule creates a psychological safety that is rare in a hustle-obsessed city like NYC. It allows people to drop the "mask" of their professional persona and actually breathe. Paradoxically, this is when the best business deals happen—not because you forced them, but because you built trust first.
Invest in the Vibe
This is where the "fab" component comes in. Food is the great equalizer. Good wine, good lighting, and a playlist that isn't generic lo-fi beats. You are creating a container for magic. The effort you put into the atmosphere is a signal of respect to your guests. It says, "I value your presence enough to make this beautiful."
The Host as the Ultimate Connector
There is a profound power in being the host. You are the architect of the evening. You are the one facilitating the connections, making the introductions, and feeding the souls (and stomachs) of the people around you.
It creates a "Kindness Currency" that is infinitely more valuable than a stack of business cards.
So, cancel your ticket to that mixer. Stop trying to "network." Buy a bigger dining table. Cook a meal. Pour the wine. Bring good people together with no agenda other than the joy of their company.
The era of the hustle is fading. The era of the host is just beginning.
