In good company
It is often said you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes. But I would argue the coffee table book is just as revealing. Shoes take you places, yes, but books, especially the oversized hardbound ones sprawled across low tables, tell you where the imagination dares to wander.
Unlike novels that ask for time and commitment, coffee table books are generous in another way. They don’t mind if you dip in and out, if you only linger for a page or two. That is why I enjoy them so much. There is no pressure to finish right away, and yet, when you do pause to read, the content inspires.
Through the pages of style and story
Coffee table books, also known as cocktail books, trace their origins to the union of art, literature, and social culture. They were never meant to be read cover to cover but to be enjoyed in fragments for pleasure, for curiosity, and for beauty. By the late 19th and early 20th century, when advances in printing made it possible to reproduce richly-illustrated pages, the idea of displaying books in living spaces became fashionable.
These early volumes straddled two purposes: to instruct and to beautify, to feed both the eye and the mind.
By the mid-20th century, the coffee table book has become part of everyday culture. For me, the one that stands out is not the usual but something more provocative: Madonna’s “Sex” book. I remember a schoolmate excitedly sneaking it into school, eager to shock us naïve high schoolers. Controversial as it was, the design felt futuristic, the photographs of Steven Meisel, unapologetically bold.
Beyond the scandal, it was also a masterclass in marketing. Proving that a coffee table book could stir controversy, drive, desire, and cement cultural relevance. A strategic tool that cemented Madonna’s image as an artist who knew how to provoke, seduce, and reinvent.
Or take “Valentino: At The Emperor’s Table.” The very title suggests an imperial quality—books that embody grandeur, luxury, and an almost regal command of style. Its weight alone feels opulent, its pages drenched in color and history. What struck me most was not merely the imagery of lavish tablescapes, but the stories they told and the recipes they shared—not to mention André Leon Talley’s foreword, written with effortless sophistication.
Valentino’s enduring love of beauty is expressed with simplicity and elegance that disarm. His pursuit of Meissen porcelain carried the wistfulness of a child longing for a toy, each piece completing not just a collection, but a dream. This revealed a side of the legendary fashion designer that was tender, curious, and endlessly human.
Suddenly, books were not only for libraries or study halls but also for living rooms. A well-chosen volume could spark conversation, express taste, and bring the world closer to one’s sofa.
And yet, despite their long history, coffee table books are still sometimes dismissed as mere décor. Their true role is far more gracious. A book left open on a low table is a kind of silent host. Without saying a word, it offers escape, story, and connection.
The collector’s charm
Entertaining is not only about food and drink. It is about what you invite people to notice. A stack of travel books by Assouline on “Marrakech Flair” or Ibiza Bohemia says, “I like to wander.” Even a sturdy step-by step cookbook like Ferran Adrià’s “The Family Meal” or the “Missoni Family Cookbook” (all the more charming when one learns that their beloved cook happens to be Filipina and a testament to family values), left on a side table is an act of generosity: an unspoken invitation to share recipes and rituals.
Some hosts rotate their books, placing art volumes in summer and festive cookbooks during the holidays. It is a subtle form of hosting, one that says: “Here is something to leaf through while you wait or while I pour you a drink.” That, too, is part of the welcome.
And unlike music or lighting, which must be curated and adjusted in the moment, books simply wait, patient and unassuming. When picked up, they reward curiosity with images, words, or sometimes, just a mood.
Hospitality in hardbound form
Here in the Philippines, coffee table books often carry heritage. Many homes display volumes on weaving traditions, family histories, or photographic chronicles of Manila’s past. These are not simply for show. They are ambassadors of culture, lending depth and grounding to a space.
When a guest leafs through such books, they are not only passing time—they are stepping into a host’s personal archive, where pride and memory meet. A well-thumbed volume on Philippine ancestral houses or a lovingly displayed book on indigenous textiles, is both an object of beauty and a gesture of hospitality.
Books in this context become bridges: between generations, between regions, and even between visitors and hosts who might otherwise struggle to find common ground. They remind us that hospitality is not only about what is served on the table, but what is shared from the shelves.
Inspiration at arm’s reach
For collectors like me, coffee table books aren’t just for display. They are wells of inspiration. A flip through a photography volume before a meeting, or a glance at an art book before setting the table, can reset the eye and lift the mood.
I remember the first coffee table book that truly caught me off guard: a Harley-Davidson volume on “A Way of Life.” Years ago, while waiting in a client’s office, I picked it up, expecting dry technicalities. Instead, it told a story of culture and the freedom of the open road. The motorcycles were there, yes, but what lingered was the spirit: the brotherhood, the romance of America’s highways. That was when I realized the right book expands the imagination and awakens curiosity.
Over time, my collection grew. Fashion, food, photography, and travel. What unites them is not just their heft or glossy pages but the way they live in a room. They don’t demand attention yet they quietly shape the atmosphere.
Inspiration doesn’t always arrive in grand gestures. Sometimes it sits by the sofa, bound in linen, waiting to be noticed.
So the next time you are welcomed into a home, notice the books stacked within easy reach. They are not simply decorative props or trophies of taste. They are silent hosts, extending beauty, knowledge, and conversation before the first glass is poured.
Because hospitality, after all, is not only what you serve. It’s what you share.
My five coffee table books
“Valentino: At The Emperor’s Table” by Valentino Garavani and André Leon Talley: A masterclass in imperial entertaining, each page a reminder of beauty and the passion for collecting
“Ralph” by Ralph Lauren: Lifestyle, aspiration, and timeless taste stitched into pages with that Montauk ease of family, sunlit weekends, and coastal living
“The Gardens of Bunny Mellon” by Linda Jane Holden: A life steeped in plants and landscapes, shaped by rare French and Italian volumes she collected, and immortalized in the gardens she created, like the White House Rose Garden she designed for the Kennedys
“Philippine Ancestral Houses” by Gilda Cordero-Fernando: Heritage and memory in hardbound form
“Happy Times” by Lee Radziwill: A reminder that joy and graciousness live in life’s small, exquisite details
