"All this happened, more or less."
Why are people attracted to certain things? I’ll never know. One of my most humiliating memories is when I was 18 and my girlfriend at the time jettisoned me for an older man. I used to work for him, and he was the epitome of ugly, like a wrinkled Woody Allen bereft of charm. But something about him was attractive to her. For a month or so it devastated me and my perception of the world. For a little longer I thought I was somehow unworthy. It wasn’t until years later that I realized it wasn’t really me. But perceptions of myself were colored in ways that I am sure shaped future decisions and paved the way for any number of successes and failures.
Seersucker is one of those things that people really love or hate. Odd that something like seersucker can be so polarizing. But from blog post comments (and ensuing traffic) seersucker is controversial. Seeing as we are going into seersucker territory with the Memorial Day weekend bearing down upon us in the US, I was letting my mind go into uncharted territory once again and looking for the one perfect match, the wine that really makes me think “seersucker.” I think I found it. It’s Soave.
My mom was 98 yesterday, and we talked about Soave. She was looking for a wine to sip on, and I suggested she try that. Mom lives alone and independent in Southern California, near Newport Beach. But she doesn’t drink wine as much as she should. I doubt if she wears seersucker. But she reported back that she went and bought a bottle of Soave and she loved it. Why wouldn’t she? It’s soft, smooth and cool, like seersucker. It’s staging a fashion comeback, like seersucker. And it’s usually affordable, like seersucker. So, Soave it is. Today’s perfect match for seersucker. And Mama says so.
Driving the couch around the living room these past few days, taking time off, I have been doing a lot of reading. Trying to work though the large volume of Mark Twain’s autobiography. I bet he wore seersucker. I’ve also been perusing a little sci-fi and some vintage Vonnegut. Did you know that when he died, all manner of folk started getting tattoos with little Vonnegut imagery and lines from his books? Which had me imagining if I ever could put together Vonnegut, tattoos and the perfect wine choice, what would it be? I don’t think Mark Twain can help me on this one, although he did like wine, especially when he was carousing in California.
No, I had to go deeper and look for the quintessential “so it goes” wine moment in my life. In honor of Vonnegut and Twain and the old guy who stole my high school girlfriend (thank you, by the way), I’d have to go with Putzscheere. You know, Green Hungarian? Nobody was Hungarian, at least I don’t think they were, but it was all so forgettable, those days when the wine was available. It was there in the restaurant where I worked, in the place where the man worked who impressed my old girlfriend. Maybe he was Hungarian. Maybe she was. Vonnegut once got an award from the Hungarian government. Mark Twain visited Hungary once. I have no idea what the connection is, but Green Hungarian was fashionable once. Tattoos are now very much in vogue. Vonnegut is being rediscovered by young readers. And Mark Twain, does he ever go out of style?
At once primeval and futuristic in a sci-fi way, Ripasso has enduring charm and draw. People can’t seem to get enough Ripasso. I reckon it is because the wine allows folks to admit they like fruitier styles of wines without being seen as unsophisticated. True dat, but is there an abysmal connection? I asked my primordial consultant, Dr. Zaius, who seems to be going through a renaissance himself. He is extremely popular; just google him. He likes Nehru jackets and seersucker. And women. And Venice. Is that a formula for success on the Ripasso trail? I really have gone out as far as I can on this jetty, and I can only surmise that Dr. Zaius likes the wine because when people drink it, so high in alcohol it is, it alters their perceptions and makes him more attractive to people of the opposite sex (or species). Kind of like the guy who ripped my girlfriend out of our doomed puppy-love relationship. He was my Dr. Zaius in seersucker, luring her away from me with a bottle of Green Hungarian. So it goes.
Odd how it all makes sense. I can see clearly now, like a neti pot for the perceptions.
I gotta take time off more regularly. This is so healing.
written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
wonderful visual imagery from Here and Here