say the weird thing
I can’t remember the last time any form of wine media dazzling me. (Adam Leith Gollner’s beautiful piece on minerality from 2021 in The New Yorker is an exception)
When did everything become so … safe?
Regurgitations of dated feminist fodder the likes of, “ALL MEN BAD”, for doing what, we don’t know exactly. 2024’s standards decree a man disagreeing with a woman is sexism.
Cowardly influencers well versed in manipulating social media algorithms unleash comment-pod soldiers to applaud their bravery, hoping no one notices how contrived the engagement is. Anyone bored yet?
Wine writers publish <article that’s been written 100 times> quoting the same 10-odd useful idiots - I mean sommeliers - from across the country who speak the same, act the same, dress the same, and - you guessed it! - promote the same wineries.
News media interview “wine experts” pushing the latest large conglomerate swill du jour - fabulous turkey wine for the fam!
Nebulous content conflating editorial with advertorial abounds - are you really drinking Concha Y Toro gladly or was it a well paid sponsored post, babe?
This, all while ensuring every redundant progressive talking point is met:
-wine is male dominated
-capitalism is evil
-WE SUPPORT MINORITIES
-wine is Eurocentric
-did I mention I am queer and ethically non-monogamous?
What’s astounding is every single piece of this garbage is published as though it’s revolutionary.
A fear of individuality breeds cultures of sameness so milquetoast that speaking the truth is considered edgy.
My Dad used to drill into my head to “find your passion”. He instilled this belief in me me so staunchly that he promised when I find “it”, the rest would follow. His second most uttered statement was “you are the architect of your own reality.” I now regularly say both.
Of course, I ignored his wisdom for close to 20 years, and in a shock to no one, I floundered. A divorce and getting fired from every job I ever had later, I decided to give finding my passion a try.
I didn’t find it at first.
I tried to be an influencer, until my husband sat me down on the banks of the Kerala back waters while travelling in India to gently tell me to “Stop. Please stop. This isn’t you.”
It took throwing a lot of spaghetti at the wall to see what stuck. If you don’t listen to your inner voice, it takes some training to tune into.
The problem with following your intuition is that it feels a lot like swimming upstream.
Modern norms equip us with a script and decorum to abide by.
The wine industry is no different.
Pearl clutching is, in fact, celebrated.
So, when you emerge from a 20 year slumber of being a wine industry zombie, you tend to ruffle a few feathers when you start asking questions.
Questions like, why is everyone such a fucking hypocrite? Why is the industry so myopic? Why is everyone so scared to be themselves?
Everything starts to look arbitrary. Tired. Commercial.
You start to wonder if it’s you, and if you can go back to the way you were before.
Those golden handcuffs weren’t so bad! Maybe they chafed a little but it wasn’t quite so painful as this harrowing loneliness.
And then, years later, you realize that every leap into the unknown led to exactly where you were meant to be - as a weird, ruthless, and outspoken Canadian wine champion/experience-maker.
The future of society - and wine media - looks bleak should it continue down this path.
Following trends is merely a form of conformity.
Healthy societies celebrate diverse opinions and strangeness.
Say the weird thing.
