As the muddied waters of John Fox and Premier Cru’s demise clear to show little more than a tawdry, criminal quagmire, and just as Rudy Kurnivian’s shennanigans exposed the gullible folly of so many “experts” and “collectors”, you have to question the very sanity of so many in wine.
Like Dante’s circles of hell, wine and wine collecting is a fevered maelstrom of ego, pride and jealousy.
It can only be vanity that drives people to pay ever more money to hold those trophy bottles, or wines scored 100 points by Joe or Jacky. It is certainly not the cost of the wine itself. By no measure is a bottle of Roumier’s Musigny or Leflaive’s Montrachet worth five thousand euros. That is the price of a car, not a bottle of wine.
What drives people to such lengths, to depart from squared reason to want more and better than anyone else? It can only be vanity.
I am reminded of the scene in the 1987 Danish masterpiece, Babette’s Feast, where the ageing colonel forlornly considers his visage in a mirror before departing for dinner,
“Vanity, vanity…all is vanity.”
For your enjoyment, The Colonel’s toast.