Playing to the Gallery

Much has been made of the potential for export growth to emerging luxury markets in both China and Russia. Many of the largest European and American brands who trade in such commodities have upped their representation overseas and staged large fairs and PR exercises designed to communicate ‘Old World’ sophistication and bolster their cultural capital. Wine has been one at the forefront of this development as an easily exportable status symbol with infinite potential for specialisation. The notion that one culture’s status symbol can be an instantly recognisable cipher for different values is an Ad man’s dream. When a product speaks of more than its qualities or production method, it gains a certain power. When that power becomes global, the product itself becomes a sort of gnomic reference to a whole litany of associations.

Andy Warhol once commented on the conceptual power of Coca-Cola in its unification of consumers across class, geography, sex and any other division. In his own eloquence:

“You can be watching TV and see Coca-Cola, and you can know that the President drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke, too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good.”

Juxtaposing these different situations presents a stark reminder of the socially levelling potential which the standardisation of products brings. Yet, at the same time, Warhol’s reflection presents us with a fairly interesting inverse. Those products which retain cultural cache and survive as unassailable status symbols in the modern world do so for exactly the reason that you can’t imagine their consumption by disparate social groups. Chateau Lafite is Chateau Lafite and whilst the President may drink it and Liz Taylor may well have done, the odds are that you can’t. Ouch. Don’t get me wrong, neither can I – that’s sort of the point of the whole status symbol thing. Yet these sorts of status symbols interest me not for their reserved nature, but for their transferability.

Chateau Lafite has massively boosted its profile in China with a culturally attuned move to enhance their appeal to that market.  Their newly bottled 2008 vintage has been daubed with the Chinese symbol for 8 – a specifically lucky symbol in a culture which values such charms. Incredulous western news reports often recount the exorbitant sale of phone numbers or vehicle registrations which predominantly feature the number 8. Regardless, the bottle’s labelling provides an approving nod from a genuine status symbol.

Lafite’s market share has since rocketed, as sales have risen on the back of this new engagement with Chinese culture.   UK wine sellers have reported wide-ranging stock shortages, as initial allocations flew out of the cellar and replacement stock has evaporated just as quickly. Indeed, investors reported an approximately 20% rise in prices, as a case surpassed the £10,000 mark for the first time. Investors have almost solely been Chinese or working towards the Chinese market.

For the brand spokespeople at Lafite, “the shape of the symbol seems to offer a perfect representation of the slopes of the vineyard and commemorates the launch of our Chinese wine project.” Indeed, the move is not wholly cynical. The symbol specifically commemorates the cooperation of Lafite with the Chinese State in planting 25 hectares of vines in the Penglai peninsula, Shangdong province. The seaside area, famed for dramatic coastal views and the Penglai Water Castle, boasts a moderate climate influenced by its position nestled between mountains and the sea. Long touted for investment, the Penglai are has been praised for the successful cultivation of noble varietals such as Chardonnay, Chenin Blanc and Ruby Cabernet. Some have even gone so far as to label it ‘China’s Bordeaux’, a moniker which will only be strengthened by Lafite’s investment.

Another interesting engagement with the Chinese market was made on behalf of Chateau Mouton Rothschild. Speculation that they were employing a Chinese artist to design the label for their 2008 vintage saw prices rocket on the back of market speculation. Playing to the gallery, it seems, pays well when done correctly.

Yet the eager courting of such markets brings with it abiding dangers. Such dangers don’t relate specifically to the Chinese market, or indeed any other, but instead stem from an over-reliance on the opinion of some. I have written before about Robert Parker and the perils of purported ‘Parkerisation’, which has seen French vineyards attempt to guide production towards the whims of one man’s critical empire. What then is to become of the next dominant market? Will the lure of China’s export potential drive changes in the production of wine in Europe?

This is an interesting prospect, made even more so by the prominent role of high status wineries in courting that market. If a recognised status symbol alters itself to suit an emerging market, does it change the value of the product as a status symbol? Likewise, it could be argued that the task of Lafite or any other prestige brand is to shape the market to their tastes. In an interesting economic dance, the competing influence of established product and eager consumer can lead to profound adaptation on both sides.

Perhaps in their plans to plant vines in Penglai, Lafite are stealing a march on their competition. If China is to emerge as a fine wine producer rather than just fine wine consumer (excepting the presence of many wineries such as Shanxi Grace which, although quality, lack the cache of Bordeaux’s leading houses), then European wineries would do well to get in on the ground floor. The adaptation of status symbols could well be worked round, as an organic brand emerging from within China and bearing the important association with French Chateaux could translate the competing desires of product and consumer. In this way, the negative aspects of processes like Parkerisation could cede to a genuinely sympathetic development which broaches the divide between emerging markets and existing products. Playing to the gallery need not be reductive if its chock full of other actors!

Scores on the Doors: A Question of Numbers

The attractiveness of quantifiable values attached to wine is obvious and yet, at times, a little misleading. Problems arise when tasting becomes an exact science. Obviously there are subjectivities in anyone’s palate and it is these foibles which make wine so attractive to me. I’d rather engage in a discussion surrounding the merits of wine than arrive at a score out of 5, 10 or 100.

I’ve been round International Wine Fairs and tasted a quantity of wine ranging wildly which almost defied a ratings system and certainly wouldn’t have benefitted from it. The perfect example would be the Wines of Slovenia stand this year at the London Wine Fair. This year they were of a good quality and well presented, with an interesting range and informed discussion encouraged. This certainly beats last year when I was served some of the worst wine I had ever tasted by a man barely conversant in English. My worry is that quantifiable scores would consign an emerging area such as that to a spiralling reputation when little is known of competing varieties and producers within the country. Limiting tasting responses to specific reactions relating to specific bottles allows us a broader vocabulary than that of the scoring index. After this year’s London Wine Fair, I’m actively considering going to Slovenia on holiday, not to mention a quick tour of their vineyards!

Part of what concerns me about such scoring is its unspoken limitations. I’m also a University Tutor and mark 1st year Undergraduate Essays regularly. These essays are marked out of 100, yet an unspoken rule is that they cannot score over 75%. This is unfair, you may cry, yet it recognises the limitations of students at an early stage of their training. With Wine Spectator’s scores, however, I’m often taken with the fact that minimum scores can be achieved simply by producing something which meets the dictionary definition of wine. At either the top or bottom end of such grading systems, I’m a little wary of unspoken limits which haven’t been justified. I feel that such scoring indexes should always have the ability to fail an entry if they are to be honest. Yet, as I’ve just said, I’m wary of the smear that this could leave on more obscure offerings.

I must admit that I have been attracted by Parker’s scores in the past and I have bought wines based on an exceptionally high rating. Obviously wine producers boast of any accolades on their bottle, as is only sensible. I’ve likewise seen American wines with Gold medal stickers advertising wins in county fairs. Such baubles are almost solely for decoration and designed to draw the eye on a crowded shelf. Scores in the upper 90s on the Wine Spectator scale dazzle and draw the eye likewise. The problem is that, personally, I’m not the wine world’s ultimate arbiter. I find that my personal tastes don’t always follow those of such prescriptive grading criteria. Problems arise when wines are crowded out because of a low score in this one index. I’ve sampled some wines which have scored poorly on Parker’s index which appeal far more than some of the exceptionally high-scoring prestige wines I’ve tasted. This seems an obvious point but it is also one worth making.

Likewise, it is problematic that prices can be driven almost solely by the endorsement of an individual (or that individual’s stable of wine-tasters). I’ve spoken about the film Mondovino before and although I wouldn’t wish to be seen as a fan-boy (or, to be honest, a Steve-Dave), I think its central message is a valuable one: respect the pluralism and traditions of the wine world and yet be suspicious of those who would speak as its ultimate authorities. Wine has always seemed a glorious riot of individuality and quirks amidst myriad definitions and styles. I’m not against using ratings to convey an opinion on specific bottles, although I am against presenting those ratings as a verifiable truth.