I've been in a rut. The northern hemisphere is on the brink of fire and brimstone. The Epstein files have, and continue to, ooze the rot from the foundations of our society. The internet doesn't give us any personal respite. Furthermore the media we consume is set up so that we can't absorb any of this properly, because the information is being machine-gunned at us at a relentless rate. It's depressing. For everyone, I imagine. And I am depressed. So, double bubble. But I heard that depression and wine are famous bedmates, so I should be fine, right? I mean, someone commented "Do you even know Jesus?" (I'm paraphrasing) on one of my LinkedIn posts. Bare in mind, this post was about approaching wine sales differently.
Honestly… Can I catch a break?
It's just been difficult for me to get excited about wine lately. That's what I'm trying to say.
The confessional
If any of you have been reading my work of late, I'm sure you've seen a common thread. "The industry is culture blind." "Wine culture is an eggshell culture." "Appeal to where your customers come from, not where you want to take them." It's clear that I'm frustrated. It's clear that the proverbial charcuterie board is covered in flies (in my perspective). And yes I still have these frustrations, and yes I still want to hear them being talked about in meaningful ways.
But, something reminded me why I love working in this industry.
It's story time, boy and girls
On 23 August 2024, I was about 6 months into my first stint as a wine buyer for a boutique wine store called Dry Dock Liquors, and, more importantly, my first article in this industry was published. It was called My year of 1000 wines. I have Jeanine Malan (the digital editor of this publication) to thank for that. She reached out a couple of weeks before that to flatter me in way that I lust to be flattered in, by saying, "I’d love to publish your piece" (I’d like to think she said "love").
Writing was always my "I wanna be a firefighter when I grow up" pipe dream. So one can imagine that in that moment, after writing concerning amounts of morbid purple prose for most of my adolescent years, and then writing a 60 000-word quarter-life, very angry, very clumsily penned, memoire. That finally, having my work being taken seriously enough for a publication, sounded like crisp rosé blooobooopooping its way into a hot summer's day glass.
And, for once, my writing was not about how used to inconvenience I've become, but about something that actually brought me joy. Which was a plus, because there are a lot of writers out there who drone, and analyse and drone a little more. Smell, drone, sip, drone, spit, drone, repeat. And god it was good to celebrate swallowing. But I too fell into that trap of nit-picking the faults in the industry and horrors in its history.
History
So I've been allocated a little project at work. The project entails selling off a lot of about 150 wines from mostly the 70s and 80s. And since I've been an advocate for selling wine through stories and not tasting notes, I thought I'd do exactly that.
For the last while, I have put on my nerd hat, and I've been geeking out on interesting historical stories in the wine world. I have written little shorts on the fantastic, aged white wines that come from the Marques de Murrietta Ygay vineyard in Rioja; I found out why Rioja bottles wear cages; I deep-dived into the coup d’etat that was the Judgment of Paris; and several other little gems. Stories about how wine styles were founded in certain regions. That Chianti is one of the world's oldest legally defined wine regions (pre-dates the appellation system), and that, (legend has it) the sneaky Florentines, who fought for territory between Florence and Sienna, gained an advantage from the cunning use of a hungry chicken (a story to be told soon on @Virgin_Vines).
Then I got to the South African wines! Did you know that the Cape Winemakers Guild (CWG) was the brain child of Billy Hofmeyr, and that he also pioneered South Africa's first Bordeaux-style blend and Cape blend on his Welgemeend farm? I didn't. I also didn't think to put 2 and 2 together to realise that while all of this was happening, South Africa was under sanctions (due to the Apartheid regime), and the Guild hosted tastings in South African embassies around the world to show the quality of our local wines. The impact that the CWG had on the quality expectation of South African wines was immense. They were a group of bandit, independent winemakers. In a country where the winelands were being ferociously cannibalised by co-ops (at the time). It was revolutionary work. Our greatest wines today, I believe, come from independent winemakers who push the boundaries, like Billy did.
And here is the crazy thing: A lot of these legends in South African wine history are still around today, and making wine. Eben Sadie is father to his own revolution. Abrie Beeslaar has founded Beeslaar Wines after having retired from the iconic Kanonkop Wine Estate. Pieter Ferreira, who spent 35 years polishing South African Cap Classique to damn near perfection with Graham Beck, still makes knee-weakeningly gorgeous bubbly for Ann Ferreira's wine brand called… Pieter Ferreira. For God's sake, Adi Badenhorst handed me a match box in place of a business card last year while I was having a smoke break.
I had to take stock of my privilege, and recognise that I've traded laughs with all of these people in the last few months. And guess what? I fell in love with wine again. Here is what I've been missing. I've been so focused on telling the stories to clients that I stopped experiencing wine as a consumer.
Ok, so now that I've taken stock of my life
I will echo (as I do) what I've said before, and for once, it's positive. I love this industry, and the stories that make the juice in our glasses more than just loud mouth soup. We are fortunate enough to be living among the winemakers that grow, ferment and age the wines we find so magical, and believe it or not, our super premium wines are still cheap when compared to their European counterparts. I believe that we are in a golden age of wine in this country. The 2025 vintage is shaping up to be something truly special: So far I've tasted more than a few wines that have shown beautiful layered complexity and textural brilliance (specifically coming from concrete-fermented and aged reds). And if you're as lucky as me, you can even neck down a couple glasses with a living legend who's overly generous with their magnificent wealth of knowledge.
So I must thank this industry for making some room for me, because the world may be in disarray, but Ann Ferreira is in my DMs.