Merlot, Mascara & the Magic of Moments.

There is this rumour that women are “80% wine and 20% w(h)ining.” I’m not sure who came up with that ratio, but I am convinced they were working with questionable data and possibly a cheap bottle. Personally, I’ll only dispute the 20%… the rest, I’ll happily sip to.

Wine, for me, has always had the same effect sport seems to have on men, except mine arrives in a stemmed glass and seduces its way down my spine with far more charm than a referee’s whistle. That first swirl that reminds me that life, even on its most chaotic days, can still be coaxed back into soft focus.

Give it its dues, wine is the liquid negotiator which talks many of us off the daily ledge. It’s what keeps us from plotting the creative disappearance of the people we love, or sending the kind of texts that would require legal protection afterwards. It’s the lather between us and the world’s nonsense, a silky ceasefire in a bottle.

And then there’s the magic of women and wine together, a duet so perfectly matched it might as well be an old jazz record. Put a group of women around a table with good food and a decent Merlot, and the atmosphere lifts like a Summer hemline in a warm breeze. Stories tumble out, laughter spills over and secrets loosen at the edges. Add a second glass and suddenly everyone remembers that one scandalous moment they swore they would take with them to the grave.

The emotions? Oh, they roll in like waves. Women feel out loud, it’s our superpower and our sport. Give us a bit of fermented encouragement and we’ll paint entire sagas with our hands, our faces, our voices. Dramatic reenactments included at no extra cost.

And yes, the “yak yak yak” is real. It’s practically an Olympic discipline. I’ll admit I play my part, sometimes with such enthusiasm that even the dog pretends he has urgent business elsewhere. But imagine, just briefly, if the roles were reversed… men doing the tearful oversharing while we broke out into bar brawls. On second thought, perhaps not, lol. Though, the world is full of plot twists and I have long since learnt to never say never.

I will say this, though, spending enough time around men does something interesting to a woman. It teaches you to get to the point, skip the flourishes, and say the thing most people dance around. I suspect that’s why my own words tend to walk straight through the door instead of knocking politely first. Women complicate things beautifully and men simplify things (often) brutally. I suppose I have ended up somewhere in-between. Layered enough to enjoy handbag talk, direct enough not to require a translation service.

And it was wine, of course, that smoothed out those rough edges too. A glass here, a giggle there, and suddenly even the most baffling parts of womanhood become deliciously negotiable. Handbags? Sure. Mascara talk? Why not. As long as the playlist is good and there’s another bottle breathing nearby, I’ll discuss anything that lands on the table. I once read a line that made me grin - “A woman drove me to drink, and I didn’t even have the decency to thank her.” W.C. Fields. Clearly they understood the craft.

I think there’s something to be said for raising a glass to the chaos, the softness, the strength, the ridiculousness, the beauty and the stories we are all busy collecting on our way. May we keep spilling laughter, keep softening life’s hard corners, and keep choosing the things that make our hearts lift, even if they come in a bottle with a cork. Let the warmth linger. Let it remind you of the sweetness you forget you carry. And when you feel it… follow it.

“Age and glasses of wine should never be counted.” — Italian proverb

Cheers to that! 🍷