Good morning, Monday. Hope you had a lovely Father's Day weekend- was missing my dad this weekend big time but was nice to wish a new generation of Fathers best wishes- lots of new daddies out there of late and that's a lovely thing.
So in other news, some of you who are readers of this blog work in advertising, as I have for the majority of my life. And in adland, no week is supposedly more important than the Cannes Lions- a week of debauchery, self congratulation, fist pumping, and an endless amount of rose. For those not indoctrinated (present company included- I've never been), it's a bit of a merde show- because everyone is partying on yachts, toasting their collective success, and sending a cringeworthy amount of selfies on Instagram and Facebook that will most likely have you reaching for a glass of something. It's a bit much. That's the truth.
But besides ad people, you've no doubt sipped on some rosé yourself the past couple years. What is it about this hot weather beverage that has us all in its clutches? Perhaps it's because of my theory- that eosé isn't REALLLLLY drinking. It's just not. Because rosé? OK! That's how I react when someone asks me if I want some, but that's just me. I
For those of you who partake, you know exactly what I mean. One can consume veritable gallons of the stuff and somehow keep it together. Now let me be clear- I'm a good drinker. Meaning- I can drink quite a bit. I'm not necessarily proud of this, but it's true. Yea, I've had moments that have been no bueno when it comes to boozing, but it's only when I don't eat and that's the truth. Otherwise, I'm good to go. And go. And go some more. It must be that above mentioned career in advertising- Lord knows it's been a minute since the mad men days, but that profession is saucy. More than most, I suspect. I can remember many late nights in many places with many ad comrades. And we are a drinking lot.
But back to rosé- or as a dear friend of mine calls it- "summer water". I go back and forth between drinking the more clear versions (for a moment we were all completely obsessed with almost clear rose) to the more pink versions, which in my mind are a Sancerre type rosé that is super delicious. The thing with rosé is that it goes down so easily on a hot day and is so pleasant to drink, there's really no reason not to drink it all day long. And yes, I love rosé the most for daytime drinking, when the sun's out. As an experienced imbiber, I would dub rose the session beer of the wine world. In fact, nobody I know has just one glass of rosé. It's poor form. It deserves your attention even though it's a fairly benign beverage. I have not experienced frose mind you- though many in the Hamptons are probably halfway into a slushy pink drink right now. And not sure how far reaching this trend is in the US- I know for sure it's super Eastern seaboard, but did not notice a ton of rosé out west (though I know some out in Napa are experimenting with it) , and when I went to the Delaware beaches last summer, the liquor stores out there had, gah, white zin. Non. Non. And non.
I'll admit- last Summer I was super over rosé and wanted nothing to do with it. Because in Barcelona I rediscovered gin and spent a summer sucking on Gin and Tonics- and to be clear, gin is not at all like rosé- too much gin and you're in big trouble. Trust me, I know. Gin will put a hurt on you, and me. It's delicious but not without danger. And I was happy to be craving the pink stuff as soon as it hit Memorial Day. I'm back to it. Because it's easy. And in my mind, far from gin and its unpredictability. Sure, rosé is a bit of a white girl cliché but I don't mind. Plus it's PINK. I know, right?
So rosé- it's not really drinking per se. It almost looks like water. I'm not sure a ton of fistfights have resulted from drinking rosé, though I suspect that rosé fans are more lovers than fighters. And though I do like beer, particularly ice cold and when the sun's shining, I can't glug down a ton of beer at this point in my life. I'm not really down for a freshman 15 type vibe. At all. Though one of my barre teachers refers to the hips as the "rosé storage area". I don't disagree, but it's still not as bad as beer, and it's nowhere near as bad as margarita gut.
So the takeaway from this post is this- rosé is good for you. I'm sure of it. You can drink it all damn day and the worst thing that could happen is you may get a little huggy/kissy or want to dance. Or maybe I'm just in denial and looking for any excuse to drink rosé. I thought for a moment, it would be on the wane this Summer but if you go in any liquor store in the New York metro area, it's front and center in the fridge, from light, light pink to a more vibrant hue. I'm sure my ad friends in Cannes are on a yacht right now, downing rosé as if tomorrow will never come. That's fine- because tomorrow is not so bad because rosé is not really drinking and open another bottle, s'il vous plait? IN closing I ask you cher readers, is drinking rosé really drinking? Let's pour some and decide. Yea I know. It's 10 am. But it's much later in Cannes. And if you think it's really drinking, keep it to yourself. I'm happy to live in my denial and rosé tinted glasses. I'm good right there.
Cause that's what's up this pink hued Monday in the 718. Yours, in Summertime. XO