From as far back as I can remember, gathering people has been my thing. At 14, I was put in charge of (well, put myself in charge of) my eight-year-old sister’s birthday party — which, of course, I turned into a talent show, where I was the host and a contestant. At least I allowed one of the eight-year-olds to win. It was a hit with the kids and adults, and it wasn’t long before I became the neighborhood party planner. But even then I loathed the title. I wasn’t a party planner! My creative ambitions couldn’t be reduced to tablescapes and goody bags. I was bringing people together to do things they hadn’t done before, curating experiences and creating core memories, for God’s sake. Likewise, when it comes to gifts and celebrating milestones, my philosophy has always been: Who wants a big-ticket item when you can have a communal adventure to carry with you forever? This is why, at 30, my bestie and I hosted a roast-and-toast birthday, where we rented out Ciel Rouge in Manhattan and invited people to pay tribute to us via song, dance, comedy, and art. Someone opened things up with the National Anthem. When I...