by Al Drinkle
A wine writer who had been an influence on me when I was a fledgling in this industry recently published an article on the young generation of sommeliers. His general point could potentially be summarized thusly: “the way in which interest in wine is generated is shifting from critics and journalists into the hands of younger sommeliers—the vast majority of whom use Instagram and other similar forms of media to disseminate a significant portion of their information". He’s undoubtedly correct, but there was one particular section of the article that struck me as odd and surprising.
“Experts With Tattoos” is one of the subheadlines to the article, and part of the section reads, “This is a new generation that combines its vinous expertise with beards and tattoos that would once have been unimaginable in anyone pouring grand cru wines". I suspect that he sees this change as welcome, but it’s still hilarious to me on a few different levels.
I don't think of Calgary, Alberta as the most progressive or open minded place on the planet, and yet arguably the most formative, influential and indefatigable wine professional in the city is a bearded man with tattoos. This is Metrovino's own Richard Harvey, and his beard and tattoos are not recent or trendy advents. He's also been working with grand cru wines longer than most sommeliers have been alive. Perhaps his restaurant guests of the 1980s muttered to each other, “This Clos de Vougeot is delicious! It’s amazing how much that scruffy sailor seems to know about wine…”.
I'm also a bearded and tattooed wine professional. The beard comes and goes depending upon my whim, though I acknowledge that the tattoos aren’t going anywhere at this point. Going back to the article, what I fail to understand is why the author feels that such things are even worth mentioning. What exactly do tattoos and beards have to do with any level of wine professionalism, beyond perhaps their incongruence with the idea that wine is a stuffy, exclusive pursuit for wealthy white men in tuxedos? If beards and tattoos are going to help destroy this cliché, then I think that we need more of them. I would, however, prefer that wine professionals collectively banish such stereotypes through inclusivity; humility; the generosity of knowledge; the forgoing of elitism and Instagram bragging; and the encouragement of others regardless of appearance.
Admittedly, I'm representing the author of the article in an uncharitable light. We're lucky that given all the distractions in the modern beverage scene—from craft beer to cocktails to mocktails to hard seltzers—there are still young people who want to engage with its most classical and intellectually-intimidating facet. And the fact is that the majority of people that I know who haven't yet celebrated their 40th birthdays, not to mention many who can barely see that milestone in their mental rearview mirror, have tattoos. Some of them have chosen not to shave their faces. Some of them work in the wine industry, and others are lawyers, doctors, Uber drivers, letter carriers or oil tycoons. My dentist is a bearded man with tattoos, and I've never thought anything of it until now.
My wife is a schoolteacher and over the past 15 years I've watched her leave for work each morning wearing increasingly casual apparel. She recently told me that some of her colleagues actually wear baseball caps while teaching. How, you might wonder, given such abominable informality is one to even distinguish between the teachers and the students? Well, that's easy. The teachers all have tattoos (and sometimes beards) whereas the students do not… yet.
