Tell me what wine you order and I’ll tell you… not who you are, but who you want to appear to be

Then there are those who want to appear nonchalant. They order a bottle with an air of nonchalance, perhaps pronouncing the producer’s name without hesitation, as if they’d grown up amongst the barriques in his cellar.
Sometimes it’s all true. Other times it’s pure theatre. But wine lends itself perfectly to the part.

And then there’s the wine chosen to impress. The important one, preferably with a name that makes the diners’ eyes pop. Not necessarily because it’s the wine you actually want to drink, but because it has to convey something along the lines of: “I know my wine”. Or, more simply: “I can afford it”.

Experience also brings to mind a classic scenario: the diner who says they don’t want to spend too much and then chooses the bottle just one price bracket above the cheapest one. Now then: they aren’t stingy, but prudent. Theywant to save money without giving the impression that they’re trying to save money. This, too, is communication.

Another example is always choosing Champagne when you’re with friends. Not necessarily because it’s your favourite wine, but because Champagne serves a specific social purpose: it’s very chic and sets the mood, signalling that the evening is a special occasion. Even when it isn’t.

Conversely, even ordering a wine that is completely unconventional can be a way of asserting one’s independence. “I don’t follow trends”. Which, curiously enough, is one of the phrases most often used by those who follow a very specific trend, namely that of not following trends.

The point is that there’s nothing wrong with that, because wine is about pleasure, culture and conviviality, but it is also a language. And like all languages, it tells us something about ourselves. Or, perhaps, about what we’d like to say. Choosing a wine to accompany a meal is, after all, somewhat autobiographical.

We’d like to come across as knowledgeable, but not know-it-alls. Refined, but not snobbish. Generous, but not show-offs. Well-informed, but not the sort who know it all. And above all, we’d like to come across as spontaneous – which is perhaps the hardest part, because even spontaneity, when faced with a wine list, can turn into a performance.

I, on the other hand, believe that true luxury – the most appropriate kind when it comes to wine – is simply being able to say: “I like this”. The rest follows naturally. It might spark a good conversation at the table, or it might not.
Without having to explain why. Without seeking out the rarest grape variety or trying to prove you know the vintage and its characteristics inside out, but above all without choosing a bottle thinking you have to make a good impression.

After all, a bottle doesn’t recognise us; it doesn’t know who we are, or even who we’d like to appear to be. But the way we choose it sometimes says a great deal.
And perhaps, come to think of it, the hardest wine to order in a restaurant isn’t the rarest, most expensive or most prestigious one. But the one we really like. Especially when nobody’s watching.