I remember exactly when I first saw it. It was the early 1990s, and I was walking past the display windows at John Wanamaker’s—Philadelphia’s grand old department store—when something stopped me in my tracks: a teapot and teacup set that seemed to leap out from behind the glass. The colors were jubilant: sunny yellows, crisp blues, delicate red flourishes. Acrobats danced across the porcelain. It was like porcelain in motion.

I didn’t know what it was at first—only that I loved it.

Inside, I discovered it was Hermès. That teacup and saucer became my first piece of the Cirque Moléculaire pattern. Back then, I was living in a loft on West Huron, and the idea of sitting down in the dead of winter with a cup of tea in that whimsical, regal teacup felt like the most luxurious thing in the world. A tiny act of ceremony. A private performance.

I adored the pattern. The little characters, the playful acrobats, the sense of movement and joy—it took me back to childhood memories of the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. It was both nostalgic and elevated. It made me smile.

For my 30th birthday, two close friends gave me two more cups and saucers as a gift. And then the collection began to grow.

In 2000, I traveled to Berlin—just as the Euro was replacing the Deutsche Mark. The exchange rate was unusually favorable, and as fate would have it, we passed an Hermès boutique with the Circus pattern in the window. We walked in, and I didn’t hesitate. I bought everything they had: teapot, creamer, saucers, a round cake platter, a rectangular one. I finished the full service for six.

When I learned the pattern was being discontinued, I scoured for two more place settings until I had service for eight. It wasn’t about collecting. It was about joy. About completion. About the quiet, private kind of luxury that doesn’t need explaining.

Today, I use the set when I host tea—pastries, friends, good conversation—or when I just need a personal pick-me-up. I’ll walk over to the butler’s pantry, open the cabinet, and there they are. Still vivid. Still magical. Sometimes I take a saucer out just to study it—each one is different. A unique little world of its own. No repetition, just continuous delight.

The Magic of Whimsy, Elegantly Executed
There’s a reason this china has endured as one of my most treasured possessions. The artwork may be playful, but the craftsmanship is anything but. Each piece was designed by artist Pierre Marie and produced by Hermès with the same attention to detail as their iconic scarves. The effect is a little like finding couture at the carnival—unexpected, delightful, and somehow just right.

When clients or guests sip from the Circus teacup, they always smile. It softens the room. It disarms formality. And in my line of work, where tension can run high and stakes even higher, that’s no small feat.

The Everyday as a Stage
I’ve long believed that how we live—truly live, not just style our spaces—should be a form of theater. Not performance for others, but pageantry for ourselves. We deserve beauty even when no one’s watching. We deserve a teacup that makes us laugh while reminding us of our finer tastes. That, to me, is the essence of living Happily Ever Always™: making room for delight in the daily.

Which is why my Hermès Circus china has never been treated as “special occasion” ware. It’s part of my everyday rotation. Because every day is special if you decide it is.

What This Pattern Has Taught Me

• Celebrate even the small wins. A successful showing deserves a splash of something fizzy—even if it's poured into a porcelain clown's hat.
• Whimsy and luxury are not opposites. The most elegant spaces often have a wink of irreverence.
• Use your favorite things. Let beauty participate in your life, not just decorate it.

An Invitation to Use the Good China
Do you have a “good” set you’re saving? For whom, exactly? Use it. Celebrate that ordinary Thursday. Make your breakfast feel like brunch at the Ritz. Drink your chamomile from the cup that makes you grin.

Because elegance should never sit on a shelf. It should live in your hands, your rituals, your joy. And sometimes, the most luxurious thing you can do is let whimsy lead.

Teacups that Toast to Joy
I have other sets now too—each with its own energy—but the Circus will always be the beginning of the story. A reminder that beauty, whimsy, and memory can live in a teacup. And that the best things we own aren’t just functional—they’re soulful.