The Art of Living & the Tomato That Taught Me

Robin Daprato
Jun 12
5 min read

Updated: Jun 16

A Summer Table, a New Collection, and an Italian Inspired Tablescape

Step inside the story behind the shoot.

Vibrant table setting with orange, white, and red flowers in vase, surrounded by fresh tomatoes on red checkered cloth; yellow tins on plates.

This time last year, I was in Florence.

Leading up to that trip, I was burnt out—exhausted, disconnected, and in desperate need of a reset. Some time to so slow down, step away from the grind, and remember the why behind the doing. One night, working too late again, I hit a breaking point. I needed to step out of the cycle I was in—and suddenly, I knew exactly where I needed to go.

I enrolled in a summer program at the Florence Institute of Design, studying furniture design and Italian architecture. And the rest, as they say, was history.

Outdoor table with red checkered cloth, tomatoes, vibrant flowers, and place settings. Pizza box on a wooden chair adds a casual vibe.

I always find I learn something about myself when I travel, but there’s something different and deeper that happens when you go somewhere when your soul needs it. When you're so deeply tired and out of touch with what you love that the everyday begins to feel colourless. It's in those moments—when you leave not for work or obligation, but for yourself—that something begins to shift.

Floral arrangement of red, orange, and white flowers with ripe tomatoes on a checkered tablecloth. A tin and glass are placed nearby.

I spent that month in Florence studying, sourcing, and immersing myself—maybe (definitely) overindulging—in the rhythm of an Italian summer. The days were long and hot: early market mornings, slow afternoons studying art and design, and dinners with new friends that lingered well into the night.

Colorful feast on striped tablecloth: cake with heart and tomato design, grilled veggies, pizza slices, salad, bread, lemons, and herbs nearby.

The experience taught a number of lessons that continue to unfold.

It reminded me that the most beautiful things are often the simplest. That life is better with good food, wine, and laughter. And that sometimes, choosing not to always be doing is its own quiet rebellion—a way of returning to the art of living.

Potted plants on a rustic table with yellow flowers, wine bottles, white pitchers, and a mesh bag of lemons against a white lattice background.

One morning, walking the winding streets home from class, I finally saw it: colour. After months of feeling grey and flat, something clicked. The world didn’t feel black and white anymore.

There, nestled in a pile of fresh produce, catching the morning light, sat the most perfectly imperfect red heirloom tomato. I paused for a moment and smiled quietly to myself. A small, seemingly inconsequential moment, but profound. As if inspiration—and maybe even a sense of self—was beginning to return.

In that moment, it became clear that sometimes, happiness doesn’t emerge from perfection—it can live quietly in something as simple as a sun-kissed, heirloom tomato.

Pasta with basil in a brown bowl on a striped tablecloth, surrounded by tomatoes, artichokes, cheese, and bread in a cozy setting.

In Italy, food isn’t separate from design or culture—it shapes both.

And at the heart of it, there is the tomato. In every form. On every table. In every market. Not just as food, but as punctuation—marking the rhythm of daily life, the height of the season, the ease with which Italians fold beauty into the everyday.

Vibrant dining table with tomatoes and colorful flowers on red gingham cloth. Butter container on plate beside glass and cutlery.

A tomato isn’t just an ingredient; it informs how a table is set, how time is spent, how colour lives in a space. It’s deeply tied to place. You see it in the kitchens, in the markets, in the ceramics and sun-faded linens. It’s all connected—the visual, the tactile, the ritual of eating.

Lemon Posset, mint leaves on a plate, jars, olive oil bottles, mortar, and cake on a striped tablecloth; rustic and fresh setup.

That moment—and that trip—changed how I see texture. How I source. How I shape a mood through materials. And maybe most importantly, how I remembered the joy for what I do.

Red and white gingham table setting with tomatoes, orange and white flowers. Wooden chairs and lattice backdrop create a fresh, vibrant mood.

But not all shifts happen at once. Some arrive quietly, long after the experience that stirred them. Recently, I felt one of those shifts surface—a slow, steady unfolding that I now recognize as a delayed response to that time.

Cake with red tomato decor icing and lemon posset on a striped tablecloth, surrounded by plants, jars, and bottles. A sunny, inviting setting.

For a long time, I would shoot the new additions to my collection alone—just me and the objects. And of course, that’s still a big part of what I do and there is something beautiful about that, too. But something shifted. I began to realize that the life of an object doesn’t begin when it’s styled or photographed—it begins when it’s held, used, passed between hands.

When it becomes part of a moment.

Floral centerpiece with red, white, orange flowers; surrounded by ripe tomatoes on a red-checkered table. White plate, tin box, cutlery.

So I started inviting friends to join me at shoots—setting tables with pieces from my new collection: linens, vessels, and bowls—each one brought to life by the food it holds and the people gathered around it.

Woman in yellow sets a table with salad, grilled veggies, cake, and pizza outdoors. Lush greenery surrounds; a cheerful, summery vibe.

At the end of it all, design is made for people—for us.

To treat it in isolation is to miss the point entirely. I try to always curate thoughtfully and because of that, I have a deep love and truly cherish the objects I collect, so what better way to capture that than to share it with the people in my life I also love and cherish.

Women socializing at an outdoor gathering, surrounded by a table with vibrant flowers, tomatoes, and checkered tablecloth, exuding a festive mood.

So, we sit, we eat, we talk. The table begins to breathe its own life—not a set, not a backdrop, but a moment in time.

In many ways, it reminds me why I fell in love with styling in the first place—to shape beauty not for its own sake, but to set a stage to create those moments that turn to memory.

Women in sunglasses toast over a red checkered table with flowers and tomatoes. Plates hold decorative boxes and text. Festive mood.

I’ve learnt that beauty doesn’t live in isolation. It lives in context. In how an object is held, where it rests, what surrounds it. A glass is just a glass until someone lifts it. A linen is just fabric until a crumb is caught in its folds. These pieces become meaningful when they’re part of something lived. But most importantly, something shared.

Outdoor table with red checkered cloth, set with plates, yellow tins, and glasses. Centerpiece of orange, red, white flowers and tomatoes.

That’s when they become more than objects. That’s when they hold memory.

Because what’s the point of creating something beautiful if no one gets to feel it? If it isn’t touched, shared, remembered?

A table with a white cake, grilled vegetable salad, leafy greens, olives, lemons, and sliced tomatoes on a striped cloth. Cozy outdoor setting.

At the risk of hyperbole, all of this—this shift in pace, in perspective, in purpose—started with one little tomato. So it felt natural, maybe even inevitable, that a year later, I’d be styling a table around it.

Red-checkered table with vibrant flowers and tomatoes decor. White plates with yellow tin cards, glasses, and cutlery set. Outdoor setting.

And while “tomato girl summer” has trended the past few years—filling feeds with cascading tomatoes and monochromatic red tablescapes—a tomato is not just a trending Pinterest search. It’s something we return to—season after season, meal after meal—because it never stops being special.

Outdoor table with vibrant food: pizza slices, salad, grilled veggies, lemons, cake with cherry design. Lush greenery in background.

The shape—plump, sculptural, often extravagant—feels like nature’s nod to design. And its role in food, especially in places like Florence or Naples, is cultural poetry. A tomato is a symbol of how complex and beautiful something so simple can be.

Bright table setting with red and white flowers, tomatoes, and checkered cloth. Plates with tins, glasses, cutlery, and lush greenery.

It carries the feeling of late dinners that linger in soft light, of passing plates between friends, of juice-stained linens and the quiet joy of a table that’s been lived in.

A table set with plates, cutlery, and napkins on a red checkered cloth, adorned with flowers and tomatoes, in a fenced garden area.

It’s the way the tomato holds a place in culture—and the way everything else on the table responds. The linen, the glassware, the ceramics, the light. All of it in conversation. All of it made richer by something so simple.

White cake with red cherry decorations and blue ribbons on a stand. Olive oil bottles and plants in the background, on a striped tablecloth.

There was no big plan. Just the instinct to follow something familiar and beautiful.

Red-nailed hand holds a yellow menu over a plate of spaghetti on a red-checkered tablecloth, surrounded by colorful flowers.

The table came together from that single starting point. I pulled casual glassware from the collection, gingham and striped tablecloths in tomato red and lemon cream, layered white ceramics, and classic flatware. Some pieces were sourced on that trip. Others, more recently, from Mexico or local markets.

A colorful table with red checkered cloth, flowers, tomatoes, and plates of pasta. Hands hold cutlery. Yellow menus are visible.

All chosen with the same intention: to feel warm, honest, and organically beautiful. The shoot was styled simply—heirloom tomatoes in all shapes and sizes, olive oil, good salt, a little cake, and the magic of natural light.

Table with Italian cuisine: spaghetti in sauce, artichokes, tomatoes, bread, and salad on a yellow tablecloth. Rustic and appetizing setting.

The trio of cream-toned pedestals added height and sculptural dimension to the table. Art from the Santo Spirito market in Florence. Plates found when wandering the streets of La Condesa in Mexico City.

Festive table with red checkered cloth, vibrant flowers, tomatoes, and canned goods. Plates with yellow menus, creating a summer vibe.

All of it, together, tells a story: of summer, of slowness, of sharing meals under the sun.

Flowers and tomatoes on a red-checkered tablecloth. A wine bottle labeled "Sfera." Plates with food and glassware, creating a vibrant dining scene.

No overthinking. No overstyling. Just a table, quietly built around nature's ripest offering—and a reminder that sometimes, one ingredient is enough to carry the whole story.

Text saying "XOXO, Robin Anne" in elegant black script on a white background, conveying warmth and affection.

Looking to create your own summer table? All styling pieces are available to rent through our Toronto prop catalogue. Reach out to book or browse the full collection here →