The clip is a bit long; about nine minutes, however a delightfully informative narration regarding the champagne making process. Didn't want to make it seem that the only champagne on earth is Cristal. This product too turns out to be quite (actually, exceptionally) good. We weren't aware of it until after the rappers had their little tiff with Cristal.
It kept showing up so regularly that we felt we should at least have a taste. As you can see from the presentation, it's a refined product from a highly respectable family. Having said that, I must quickly add that (personally) I can't get to the packaging. There is something vulgar, indelicate and unsettling about the whole gold pewter wrapping with the big spade thing; it lacks modesty; too loud for me.
I'm superficial.
Based on the narration the family was navigated toward this branding by their marketing agency. That's rather unfortunate.
Otherwise, it's a beautiful story about an excellent wine!
If there were another woman, with whom I could be as infatuated as I am with my wife, it would be Coco Chanel. Not the young precocious Chanel who accidentally did more to liberate the world of women (without even intending to) than any suffragette, but the old version; after sixty five or so. She had far overcome the impetuousness of youth and settled into a more seasoned honesty and mature truth.
The universe of womanhood might easily be divided into the opposing era of Before Chanel (BC), and (AC) After Chanel. Clothes make the woman. The era BC was marked by women's fashions deliberately designed to subvert liberation. Fashionable women embraced the notion that their valuable assets were best displayed by squeezing the middle, corseting and bulging the top and front, padding the hips and panniering the rump and thighs.
The hourglass masquerade left men engrossed; surveying contours and jagged terrain, fantasizing about "what fun it is to ride..." rather than engaging in eye level conversation. Men are dogs.
The era AC brought about a tectonic shift in fashion. With her straight lines, flowing dense fabric, and disuse of shaping undergarments, Chanel shifted the total focus from below the neck. A woman can be viewed as tastefully, expensively dressed and now real conversations can proceed eye-to-eye.
Did the liberation engendered by her new fashion lines cause women to become deeper, freer thinkers. Frankly, I don't know. Viewing this old recording of Chanel makes me believe that she made her clothes just for herself. Obviously she had no physical assets to push-up or pop-out. Perhaps there were thousands of other women with the same dilemma. Serendipitously the fashion caught on; she became a talented, hugely capable, accidental star.
In the little film, even if you have no idea of what she's saying her voice is so melodic; her grace, movement, and intensity makes her perfectly, unpretentiously loveable. Sometimes I wish I didn't understand any French at all.
Quite Often Enough in our little tome, we whisper about imbibing champagne, giving the impression that we lounge around all day in burgundy smoking jackets, paisley ascots, and coral peignoirs, brandishing foot-long ivory cigarette extenders while luxuriantly sipping. Not so, not so. Nothing can be further from the truth.
Vintage champagne is a subtly delicate beverage mostly reserved for special celebration. The loftier the occasion, the finer the prescription. It doesn't get much finer than Cristal, and One Exquisite Night in Paris is perhaps one of the best reasons to indulge.
Cristal is fairly pricy stuff which some folks indelicately gulp for just that reason alone. However there are many less costly alternatives which we can all afford to enjoy on a whim; unless of course champagne is not your flavor.
I discovered Michael here (Mike Supple); regular-Joe looking man with a passion, who actually made a pilgrimage to the source in order to afford the rest of us some enlightenment regarding what we're drinking and why. Proof that you don't need a smoking jacket to be passionate, engaged and knowledgeable.
He's a suave looking man who looks like he should speak French, but he doesn't; which makes for a bit of a mental déplacement; but never mind.
Normally men don't get many treats. While we were running around in Paris, as an added fantasy I had to pay respects to the venerated atelier of the most preciously delicious footwear for men. Though, seriously, I'm not at the point of affording such perfect luxury, it was an extravagant treat to be welcomed by the ultimate artists who fashion and color each bespoke item. They were exceedingly generous with their time and edification regarding what goes into creating and coloring a perfect pair of shoes; never once inquiring about my ability or willingness to place an order. Perfect gentlemen, perfect artists, perfect shoes!
