Now that October is over, ‘tis the season to be thankful, jolly and impress the heck out of the families you’re going to be spending time with. Drunk by only the classiest, wine is the fermented nectar of gods — a perfect vehicle to having a good time at that awkward family gathering while still appearing to be the respectable, college-educated young lady that you are.
Alternatively you could be dating Fancyman and he sits you down at the restaurant and gently murmurs, “Why don’t you choose the wine, m’lady?” Why don’t you take that fork and stick it in my eyeball, I do not want to admit my sommelier ignorance … Don’t let all that hard work of keeping the illusion of your inherent elegance go to waste, we’ve got you covered.
Firstly, getting the lingo down is essential. How else can you describe the subtle accents of that $4 box wine you decanted? Buttery, oaky or summery; round, earthy or crisp — it doesn’t matter what you’re drinking as long as you can discuss it like you grew up amongst the vines and didn’t have human contact for 10 years, so intent were you on meditating the excellence of rotting grape juice.
Secondly, body language is key. Swirl that mother flipper like nobody’s business and take a whiff of his scent, it’s the only time deeply inhaling and savouring a smell is ever publicly acceptable, really. Raise your nose half an inch and hold your glass loosely, as if wine were not the only thin membrane keeping you from throwing yourself to the floor weeping at the difficulty of adult life right now. We all know the truth. There is no shame here, this is a safe place for fellow and future wine-lovers.
Lastly, pick one type of wine and memorise some impressive facts. Not only will you impress everyone within hearing capacity, you’ll also repel anyone from ever asking you again about wine — problem solved! You can drink in blissful ignorance forevermore, unburdened by the knowledge that a Txakolí is a wine primarily produced in Basque, Spain, a very dry white wine often served with pintxos. Badass.
However a word of warning, ladies — if you find yourself in a debate over corked versus screw top, abort mission. Get outta there STAT, it ain’t ending well for you or your cover as a wine connoisseur.