Whilst for some of us a trip to Italy still seems far away, this postcard from Florence provides us all with inspiration for our future adventures. As a wine lover and epicurean, how would you best spend 24 hours in Florence? 
I’m a great epicurean or as we say here in Italy I’m completely into “dolce vita”. Florence has so much to give that after one life spent here I’m still surprised and astonished by the beauty you can find behind every corner. I love to have an early morning walk along the Arno river, there is a very easy path that follows the two banks.  Walking from bridge Santo Spirito to San Niccolò bridge and back when the city wakes up gives me cheerfulness and the good mood to start the day. A good espresso in one of the many caffetterie on the way and life smiles! If the day is not too hot I’ll probably climb the hill of Michelangelo from the San Niccolo gate and enjoy the best view of the city from Piazzale Michelangelo and the church of San Miniato. 
 At this point, I’ll probably descend from “via dell’erta canina” for a sandwich and a glass of wine at “Fratellini”, one of the oldest and most traditional kiosks of the city! Ill end the day resting in Boboli garden, the Medici private backyard of Palazzo Pitti before heading to “Santino” for a classic aperitivo in the smallest and cutest bar of the city. 
What are your top drinking spots in the city? 
When it comes to wine Florence has a lot to offer. The best places to enjoy a class of wine will be the Sesto, terrace bar of the Excelsior Hotel or the rooftop bar of Hotel Lucchesi, both with an amazing view and great wine lists. But my favourite place is Aurora, our new winery in Fiesole, with an amazing terrace overlooking the city of Florence, Chianti and the hills that frames the city. What is your favourite neighbourhood restaurant in the city?
 I love the traditional restaurant Cammillo, it is one of the oldest Trattoria of the city, still managed by the same family. It is chaotic but the atmosphere is warm and the menu rich of traditional dishes hard to find elsewhere. 
 What is your favourite dish they serve? 
Trippa alla Fiorentina, amazing! 
What are the culinary specialities of Florence and the surrounding area? 
Florence has a very rich cuisine, starting from aged salami, cheeses and charcuterie like finocchiona (made by the leftover of the pigs), but also pasta and soups like Ribollita (winter black cabbage and bread soup) Pappa al pomodoro (summer tomato and bread soup) or Tagliatelle that could be served with Cinghiale (wild boar) Lepre (hare) but the king of our cuisine is the Bistecca Fiorentina, a 2 kg steak served rare to medium-rare and made of Chianina beef. But don’t forget desserts like “Zuppa Inglese” or Cantucci and Vinsanto, the best way to end a heavy meal! 
If budget was not an issue where is the finest place to dine in Florence? 
Easy to answer: Enoteca Pinchiorri (three-Michelin), amazing food and probably the best wine list in the world. I’m very linked to this restaurant, it was my very first client in the world and for a few years Pinchiorri got all my production of Colore purchasing until the last drop of the wine! 
Florence has some world-class cultural sites. What is your favourite place to visit? 
My top three are: the Uffizi museum, you can’t leave Florence without a view of Venere and Primavera of Botticelli (and a good coffee on the rooftop bar of the museum), Santa Maria del Fiore (the duomo) with the adventurous walk to the top of the church and last but not least a visit to Fiesole village with its beautiful monastery. 
Is there an off the radar place in Florence that visitors should not miss? Florence can be very touristic and loud during high season but there are some places a bit off the radar like the “Giardino delle Rose” (the roses garden) beautiful in spring with hundreds of different roses or when open the Forte Belvedere with the Garden of Villa Bardini. 
 Florence is closely situated to the world-class wine regions of Tuscany – Where are the best places to visit for scenery and to discover the wine country? 
I will base myself on the hills overlooking the city, Fiesole can be the perfect base to visit the city and get out of the crowd when necessary. And from there move to Chianti Classico, Panzano in Chianti and Castellina are two lovely villages 30-40 mins away. If the plan is to visit Bolgheri or Montalcino better to base yourself on the coast or Siena. 
Where is the best place to enjoy your wines in Florence? 
I’m proud to say that our wines are considered the “local wines” in Florence, my winery is the closest winery to the city and I have been privileged for this reason, I’m the Florentine winemaker and my wines are very easy to find in most of the places in Florence. I get the occasion to toast to all our friends that I am sure I will be able to meet here again soon with a good glass of wine. Read more Editorial

We checked in with winemaker Bibi Graetz, whose winery set in the foothills of Florence, looks out over this magical city. Born and raised in the city and being the closest winery to Florence, we thought who best to ask for his top tips when visiting 

We caught up with Bibi Graetz, maverick Tuscan winemaker, about his top tips when visiting the region

Interview with Florence winemaker Bibi Graetz

Bibi Graetz: Postcard from Florence

I am too disorganised to call myself a collector, but I often find myself thinking about the multiple meanings of collecting. I have a room full of books left unread from one year to the next, whose mute reproach I feel every time I am in their presence. I have half a dozen radios, from Marco Zanuso and Richard Sapper’s folding Brionvega TS502 to a Danish-made Beolit 707 from Bang & Olufsen, with its slide rule tuning device. I have a manual typewriter.  Most of us accumulate such random clutter. These were never possessions that were primarily about being useful – the Brionvega and the Beolit have long since been supplanted by a bluetooth speaker and a smartphone. They represent my membership of the design tribe.  The books carry other layers of meaning. My five years at university are on one shelf. The traces of the eight years I have spent writing a just-completed biography of Boris Iofan – Josef Stalin’s preferred architect – are spelled out in the titles of the books on another shelf. The typewriter was inherited from my father and it serves to remind me of childhood. The closest that I come to having a collection that a serious collector might acknowledge is in my chairs: a Rover chair that Ron Arad salvaged from a car, a Gio Ponti Superlegera, an Eames Lounger, a Harry Bertoia, George Sowden’s Palace chair from the 1983 Memphis collection and a deconstructed armchair designed by Rei Kawakubo. On a larger or smaller scale, humans develop complex relationships with their possessions that can go from the professionalism of full-blown collecting, to the casual significance of a row of junk shop finds on a mantlepiece. They can tell us a lot about ourselves. Marina Warner’s guide to the house in Hampstead, now run as a museum, in which Sigmund Freud spent the last year of his life, offers an arresting insight into the significance that collecting had for him. She describes the ranks of ancient bronze, ceramic and marble figures parading across the desk that Freud brought with him to London from Vienna where he no longer felt safe due to Nazi occupation in 1938. Certainly, they are beautiful, and mostly they are precious. Thanks to their association with Freud, even the few that have been established as 20th-century forgeries will have become valuable. Some are almost 4,000 years old and reflect the religious and political practices of the distant past. Others, such as Freud’s art deco cigar case, come less freighted with history. But as Warner says, “they were also tools of thought, the kitchen utensils of his imagination”.   The batterie de cuisine of psychoanalysis included Egyptian coffin masks from the Roman period, Chinese jade and gold brooches, Roman glass, a 2,500-year-old sphinx, sarcophagus lids, Babylonian cylinder seals and Egyptian heart scarabs, as well as a 19th-century neck rest from New Guinea, modern metal porcupines, and Balinese figures. The pieces in pride of place on his desk, placed in apparently random order, were his special favourites, a tiny fraction of his collection that had become permanent fixtures. From time to time, Freud made space for a few new acquisitions to get a look in. “A collection to which there are no new additions is really dead,” he told his biographer Ernest Jones. After a short interval, most of the new things would be moved into the glass-fronted cabinets positioned around his study, where they were placed in more organised groups than those standing on his desk. Greek sculptures went on a shelf together. A cluster of representations of the Egyptian god Horus were grouped on another.  In Freud’s lifetime, the collection was continually changing. Before his move to London, he toured Vienna’s antiquities dealers almost every week on the look-out for new finds. He was ready to exchange pieces for items he could not afford to buy, and was generous in gifting pieces to friends and pupils he thought would appreciate them. Freud also had no qualms about buying items that came on the market in questionable circumstances, in particular, from the unofficial excavations (sometime after 1906) at a Roman fort in Hungary.   Despite the important part it played in his life, Freud wrote very little about collecting. The nearest that he came to spelling out what drove his interest in fragments of ancient sculpture, was when he compared his own exploration of the unconscious minds of his patients to an archaeological excavation of an ancient city. “The psychoanalyst, like the archaeologist, must uncover layer after layer of the patient’s psyche before coming to the deepest, most valuable treasures.”  Freud was known to share his dining table with choice specimens to act as companions during a meal. “I must always have an object to love”, he confessed to his colleague and rival Carl Jung. When he was writing his book The Interpretation of Dreams in 1895, Freud spent the summer at Schloss Bellevue outside Vienna. He took a selection of what he called “my old grubby gods who take part in the works as paperweights for the manuscripts” with him.  Before Freud left Austria for England in 1938, his desk, his consulting room, and his study at Berggasse 19 were photographed by Edmund Engelman. Engelman’s 150 images helped Freud’s architect son Ernst to transpose the desk and its contents from a dark back room in a Viennese apartment to a sunlit Hampstead villa.  Like most collectors, Freud could never limit himself to a single field. Ronald Lauder the former MoMA chairman, for example, is known for the collection of Viennese modernism that forms the basis for his own museum, the Neue Galerie in New York. He also collects (in depth) in 15 other fields with little apparent connection between them. Lauder is fascinated by the work of the Japanese designer Shiro Kuramata. He has a collection of arms and armour going back to The Crusades, and another of World War Two memorabilia. He owns some of Egon Schiele’s finest works, as well as various 18th-century French artworks. Fellow collector Rolf Fehlbaum (head of Vitra) has one of the largest collections of modern chairs in the world, and gave Frank Gehry his first European commission to design a gallery for it, but he is equally fascinated by toy robots manufactured in Japan since 1937. He calls them tiny kinetic sculptures. Where possible, he acquires their original packaging too. Perhaps the best way to understand the psychology of collecting is to see it as a spectrum. At one end, it is about order and control. In a messy and uncontrollable universe, a collection offers at least a semblance of certainty. A collection of this kind is based on provenance, completeness and authenticity. An over-restored vintage Bugatti is less desirable to a collector than one in original condition.  Every previous owner, every detail of its making forms part of its record. A red Olivetti typewriter designed by Ettore Sottsass that once belonged to David Bowie was sold at Sotheby’s for US$65,000. You can buy one (that hasn’t been owned by Bowie) for US$750, which is still a lot of money for a piece of obsolete technology. Some collectors attempt to make patterns from the things that they acquire or, like jigsaw puzzlers, set out to complete a picture by locating every piece of a set. Some try to document the evolution of a species whether the subject of their interest is biscuit tins or the eggs of a particular type of bird. Some forms of collecting require the active engagement of the collector. Wildflowers need to be picked and dried quickly before they are pressed into a book. Butterfly collectors used macabre methods such as poison jars, or squeezing the thorax, to dispatch their prey without causing so much distress that they risk damaging delicate wings. At the other end of the spectrum, the accumulation of stuff by people who die alone in homes overwhelmed by stacks of ancient newspapers and tins of cat food, is a kind of sickness. It’s a condition that can overwhelm even the most celebrated of artists. In the last 17 years of his life, Andy Warhol filled a succession of cardboard boxes with a seemingly random accumulation of objects: taxi receipts, a vinyl Ramones single signed by Joey Ramone, a piece of an ancient, mummified foot, pastel-coloured corsets and a selection of metal dentures. Every time he had a full box, it was sealed and shipped off to storage in a warehouse in New Jersey. A typical box has 400 objects in it, some have as many as 1,200. Items in them include a piece of Caroline Kennedy’s wedding cake – Warhol seems to have been a regular guest at Kennedy weddings. He showed up 20 minutes after the wedding ceremony for Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger had started, in the company of Grace Jones. He was in black leather, and wearing two wigs; she had on a huge green fur hat.   Warhol’s boxes are a collection of the uncollectable and the uncontrollable, which, thanks to the resources of the Andy Warhol Foundation, has been tamed after six years of work by a dedicated group of archivists and cataloguers. The Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh has aestheticised the cardboard boxes. They sit on back-lit shelves in the museum to suggest that this is not a random collection of trash that Warhol never looked at, but, in the view of the museum, is in fact a time-based art piece, comprising at least 500,000 objects that took 30 years to complete. It presents a considerably less impressive sight than British Regency period architect Sir John Soane’s museum. The architect of the Bank of England put as much effort into adapting his Lincoln’s Inn Fields house (and subsequently the two adjoining houses) to display his Hogarth paintings, a sarcophagus and his architectural models, as he did to accumulating the collection itself. The Nobel prize-winning Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk’s novel, The Museum of Innocence is an eloquent exploration of the hoarding end of the collecting spectrum. What initially appears to be an account of a doomed love affair, quickly reveals itself as an exploration of the meaning of collecting. The story’s main protagonist Kemal starts acquiring things when his relationship with his lover Füsun is going well. When she drops an earring, he finds it and puts it to one side. As Füsun falls out of love with him, Kemal begins an increasingly desperate accumulation of objects that record their relationship. He picks up each of the cigarettes that she smokes. When she has stopped seeing him altogether, Kemal starts hanging around at her parents’ house and stealing pieces of cutlery that she might have used.  What makes Pamuk’s book particularly remarkable is that he acquired a house in Istanbul’s Beyoğlu district that had belonged to a Greek merchant in the Ottoman era, and transformed it into a physical Museum of Innocence. It is, of course, very far from innocent; everything inside it is a lovingly created fiction. The first thing that you see once you get inside, is a wall covered with 4,213 cigarette ends, each of them carefully annotated in Pamuk’s neat handwriting, with imaginary details of the time and place they were smoked. The rest of the house is full of equally carefully fabricated objects from cosmetics to movie posters that reflect Pamuk’s vision of the modernising Turkey of the 1970s. “I think getting attached to objects happens in traumatic times and love is a trauma,” Pamuk once said. “Perhaps when they are in trouble, people hoard things.”  When Pamuk gave me a tour of his museum, he told me about meeting Warhol’s archivist, and expressed his reservations about the significance of the boxes in Pittsburgh. “Hoarding objects reaches the level of collecting only when there is a story that unites them,” he said. But that is a novelist criticising another, less narrative art form. While Freud’s desk in Hampstead was always useable, if overcrowded, the desk in fashion designer Paul Smith’s office in Covent Garden is completely overwhelmed with a snowdrift of collected objects that sweeps over an office chair, down onto the floor, and back up to the shelves that line every wall. There are stacks of books and magazines, cameras and mountains of vintage cycling jerseys. There is an i-Mac computer, a gift from Jony Ive that Smith has never used. Computers aren’t Smith’s thing. In any case, it’s too late now, short of purging half the contents of the room: there is no way to get near it. There are toy tin cars, collections of bottles from Moroccan markets, a pink bicycle and a lot of rabbits. “I once said in an interview that seeing a rabbit brings me luck, and they haven’t stopped pouring in ever since,” explains Smith. Collecting began, as did so many things in Smith’s career, with his early enthusiasm for cycling. Growing up in Nottingham in the 1950s, there was a newsagent which occasionally had a copy of L’Equipe, which would portray the heroes of the Tour de France in their yellow jerseys in colour on the cover, but in sepia inside. He bought the magazine, fascinated by the images, even if he couldn’t read it. “I can remember once saying, ‘I really like Jacques Anquetil’ to my father, which baffled him, since none of our family had ever been abroad. I saved my pocket money so that I could upgrade the gears on my bike from Simplex to Campagnolo. The box it came in was as important to me as the gear itself.”  What attracted Smith to the Campagnolo box, along with stamps and matchboxes which he has in large numbers – not just in his office but at his Nottingham HQ where he has an archivist trying to make sense of it all – is the way that designers can say so much in such a tiny space. He showed me a Japanese book of matches produced for a Tokyo nightclub in the 1970s. “It so clearly says it’s ‘contemporary’. You can hear the jazz already.”  Despite the huge assortment of assembled objects, Smith is reluctant to describe himself as a collector. “I just have a large quantity of the same things,” he says, matter of factly. “In my head, a collector is someone who selects an item or a subject. They collect them because they know a lot about them. Maybe I have a little knowledge about cycling jerseys.  In the early 1980s, on my first trips to Japan and India, I just got a bit carried away. I bought lots of Japanese furniture. In India, for some reason, I bought 15 wardrobes, and a piece of furniture that doubled as a staircase with drawers.” Smith had them all sent home on the Trans-Siberian Express.  He suggests that his is a collection that has found him. “Things collect me,” he says. “For some reason I started to be sent things, and they still keep coming.” There is an individual who regularly sends Smith artefacts that come unwrapped but covered in postage stamps. Others send him letters, toys, books and even ancient packets of razor blades. One visitor took careful photographs of his office, and later sent him a precisely detailed model of his office, complete with its chaotic contents. Smith’s London home, where he lives with his wife Pauline, is much calmer. “The house is hers. I do have one room for my stuff, but it’s mostly at the office that I get to look at things.” In 1996, patron of the arts and barrister Jill Ritblat gave the V&A Museum the largest single donation of clothes in its history, more than 1,000 items. There are ski outfits in postmodern pastel shades from the 1980s, and challenging Japanese experiments from Yohji Yamamoto and Issey Miyake, as well as couture from Dior and Saint Laurent. There is work by Alexander McQueen, Biba, Mary Quant, and Christian Lacroix, Emanuel Ungaro and Victor Edelstein, and an evening outfit produced by a dressmaker based on an idea of Ritblat’s own design.  The early days of British fashion from the 1960s are represented by Foale and Tuffin, and Zandra Rhodes, and from the 1980s by Margaret Howell and Katharine Hamnett. There is tailoring from Tommy Nutter and work by Giorgio Armani. It is by no means a complete account of contemporary fashion, but it is certainly extensive, and like the personal wardrobe that it is, combines some very special pieces made for family occasions, with more everyday wear. The connecting thread of Ritblat’s collection is Ritblat herself. These were all pieces that she had bought to wear. They were not chosen like stamps, or old masters, or celadon vases to make a self-conscious collection, but were the result of a continuing sequence of choices over time. Taken together they are a reflection of her life as an English woman of a certain background, at a particular time in the country’s history. “I never saw it as a collection, it was more like my diary, though I have never had time to write a diary. Each piece brings back memories of when I wore it,” says Ritblat. She made her first donation to the V&A at the end of 1996, but kept back the things that she wanted to be able to go on using, and they formed the core of a donation to the Design Museum of another 400 items in 2013. Ritblat is ambivalent about fashion. As a child she was somewhat self-conscious about being dressed by her mother, who had studied fashion herself. She was relieved to be able to assume the camouflage of the complex uniform rituals of an English public school for girls in the 1950s. “I loved my school uniform at Roedean; we were expected to change our clothes four times a day, as chic as anything. Scratchy afternoon dresses, regulation school loafers, very nice blazers and pleated skirts.” As a student barrister, she found herself adopting the formal uniform of the legal profession, but then as a married woman began to build a wardrobe that reflected the life that she was leading. Later, when she was making her own choices, she was early to discover Miuccia Prada. “What you pick out is based on whether it suits you and on the zeitgeist,” she explains. Smith, Heseltine and Ritblat represent three very different approaches to collecting. For Smith, the unruly mountain of things in his office, is, like the collection on Sigmund Freud’s desk, part of the tools of his imagination, a source of imagery and ideas for his work as a designer. It’s also a means of establishing his personality. Heseltine’s garden is an investment of time, resources and creativity in the remaking of a place that speaks to the future using living organisms that will outlive us all. Ritblat’s clothes are a record of the full life of an individual. All of these collections provide insights into unique people, their lives and times. In their different ways all three reflect on the nature of collecting, and its ability to be a creative activity in itself. In a world in which technology threatens to abolish the material world altogether, objects have not lost their allure. Their physical condition marks the passing of time in ways that pixels and code cannot do. Collecting is the means all of us have to create histories of our times, and even more, of ourselves. This article was originally published in FONDATA, Issue Two. 

In order to explore the mindset of the collector, Deyan Sudjic shines a light on the collected objects of Sigmund Freud and Andy Warhol, and speaks to three British collectors to better understand what it is that makes collecting such a vital part of the human experience.

Exploring the mindset of the collector and why the act is a vital part of the human experience, with a focus on Sigmund Freud and Andy Warhol

FONDATA: Exploring the art of collecting 

 I Collect, Therefore I Am

The benefit of hindsight tells us this story did not end happily ever after, but for the 750
million people tuning in to the wedding of Lady Diana Spencer and the Prince of Wales, the day was fit for a fairy-tale complete with gold-encrusted carriage, silk slippers and trumpet fanfares aplenty.   The Champagne of choice? Magnums of Dom Pérignon 1961–  Diana’s birth year and a legendary vintage. The 600 bottles were disgorged in March 1981, just four months before Diana took the long walk down the aisle at St Paul’s cathedral but the quality of this 50/50 Chardonnay/Pinot Noir blend had long been appreciated: it is the only Champagne to have been awarded six stars by the late Michael Broadbent in his vintage guide – the maximum was five – while sparkling wine expert Tom Stevenson called it “the best Dom Pérignon I have ever tasted”. It wasn’t just Champagne that made wine fit for royalty in 1961. The warm, dry summer produced wines that had the Bordelais salivating from the first crush. In his annual
vintage report, Bordeaux négociant Peter Sichel, said:  “We have no doubts at all about the quality of this vintage. The wines are dark in colour, firm and complete in composition
and classic in flavour…they are great wines ranking with the 1928’s, 1929’s and 1945’s.” Despite the evident quality, there wasn’t much of it to go around: an intense cold spell at
the end of May made a huge dent in yields and this caused massive headaches. Bordeaux was far from wealthy at this time and the sur souche system was still in operation, which meant producers sold part of their crop before a grape had been harvested. It helped with cashflow and kept the bank manager far from the château gates but the system backfired in 1961 when nature turned against the vines: there was hardly any fruit; some châteaux couldn’t fulfil contracts and had to reimburse their customers for failure to supply.  Under the stable ownership of American financier Clarence Dillon, however, there were no such concerns at Château Haut-Brion. Instead, 1961 will be remembered as the “ripe and concentrated” debut vintage for Jean-Bernard Delmas who took over from his father and made the revolutionary step of introducing stainless steel fermentation tanks.  His son Jean-Philippe was handed the winemaking reins in 2004 and explains that the introduction of tanks brought greater precision to Haut-Brion. He tasted the 1961 earlier this year and recalls: “It was powerful, complex, so rich in tannins, ample, fleshy and complete. A pinnacle in quality, slightly similar to our 1989, that can still age and flourish for several decades. 1961 and 1989 are really the best made by my father.” The year 1961 will also be remembered as a killer year for the northern Rhône. Paul Jaboulet Ainé’s Hermitage La Chapelle, a cuvee that takes its name from the pint-sized chapel on top of the Hermitage hill, was lauded by wine critic Robert Parker and played no small part in creating a semi-mythical status. “This is unquestionably one of the greatest wines made in the twentieth century,” he declared. “In the two dozen tastings where I have had the 1961 La Chapelle, I rated it 100 points twenty times,” which would give it a sum total of 2000 Parker points. Heading further south through the Mont Blanc tunnel, the conditions that produced a stunning Rhône season made this the vintage of the decade in Piedmont. It is even a
strong contender for vintage of the century. According to Angelo Gaja, the makers of Barolo and Barbaresco would have to wait until 1970 for a vintage in the same league and then, like buses, they had another the following year (although some would argue the quality of 1967 was in a similar league).  By 1961, the staunch traditional Barolo maker, Bartolo Mascarello, already had 40-odd vintages under his belt and it would prove to be one of the vintages of a lifetime. While fully mature, it continues to drink well, although it’s not one for long-term cellaring at nearly 60 years old.  The late Mascarello’s unwavering commitment to long maceration times and traditional aging in large format Slovenian oak (botti) in the face of a modernist Barolo movement continues under the guardianship of his daughter Maria-Teresa. Fashions have come and gone since Mascarello first made this wine but it’s clear that he knew how to capture the greatness of his sites And if it ain’t broke… Explore more Editorial

In conversation amongst collectors and critics around the world, 1961 is certainly a vintage that piques a lot of interest. It was a vintage that arguably produced some of the finest bottles of the century. In the latest installment in our Vintage Series, we explore the vintage of 1961.

According to collectors and critics around the world, 1961 is a vintage that produced some of the finest bottles of the century. We explore the golden year

Exploring the 1961 vintage globally 

A year in wine: 1961

It’s 20 years since Eduardo Chadwick gathered some of Europe’s most famous wine writers for a blind tasting – one to rival the famous 1976 Judgement of Paris (when California proved its wines could compete with – and beat – France’s best). Chadwick was convinced that critics were underestimating Chilean wines – for no reason other than snobbery against the nation. The Berlin Tasting pitched Chadwick’s top wines (Viñedo Chadwick, Seña and Don Maximiano Founder’s Reserve) against Bordeaux’s First Growths and a lone Super Tuscan (Antinori’s Solaia). Chadwick charged the late Steven Spurrier with running the event. “I never imagined that what happened was about to happen,” Chadwick tells me. To his and everyone else’s amazement, the 2000 Viñedo Chadwick took the top spot, followed by 2001 Seña, then 2000 Ch. Lafite Rothschild, and 2000 Ch. Margaux – tied equally in fourth place with 2000 Seña. Finally, there was proof that Chile’s wines deserved a place on the world stage.  But, for Chadwick, one watershed moment wasn’t enough. He repeated the tasting, first in São Paulo, then Tokyo – and onward, hosting the same blind tasting 22 times around the world, all with similarly spectacular results for his wines. It takes nerves of steel – and a certain amount of ego – to be willing to risk repeating such a tasting, and yet Chadwick was justly rewarded. His campaign is just one way in which he has forged a path for fine, Chilean wine – with a relentless, dogged determination.  Chadwick is the fifth generation of his family to make wine in Chile. Don Maximiano Errázuriz emigrated from the Basque country and was the first to plant vines in the Aconcagua Valley in 1870. He identified the location, 100km north of Santiago, with its cool ocean breezes, hot summers and rainy winters, as perfect for growing grapes. Operating under the motto of, “from the best land, the best wine”, he planted vines in this idyllic site, near Panquehue, and built a winery – that still stands today.  Gradually, the business grew – and it became the largest vineyard in the world owned by an individual, with 1,300 hectares under vine at its peak in the late 19th century. Despite this early prosperity, Chile’s wine industry didn’t continue to thrive. There was no export market and domestic consumption (which reached up to 80 litres per capita annually) was slashed by severe taxation, while political and economic turbulence, with communist then military rule, put not just the industry, but nation, in crisis. By the early 1980s, wine was cheaper than water and around half of the nation’s vines were ripped out.  It was onto this unstable scene that Eduardo Chadwick arrived. He had initially trained as an industrial engineer before deciding to focus on wine instead, going to study in Bordeaux under the legendary oenologist Emile Peynaud. His father bought the family winery back from the banks, and Chadwick started dusting away the cobwebs, re-opening Viña Errázuriz and – armed with new, technical knowledge – made the first vintage of Don Maximiano Founder’s Reserve, the property’s flagship wine, in 1984. The operation was still rudimentary – with rauli vats (a native hardwood), no temperature control and pergola vines planted on the fertile flats – but it was an early indication of what was possible. Tasting the wine four decades later, it’s held up remarkably well – with surprising vibrancy on the nose and a chiselled, savoury profile of pure Cabernet Sauvignon.  Gradually, Chadwick invested in equipment – stainless steel tanks, modern presses and barrels – and started to plant vineyards on slopes with poorer soils. Alongside this shift, pivotal elections in 1989 saw Chile become a democracy once more – and key figures from the world of wine visited. Soon entry-level wines were being exported by the likes of Oddbins and Victoria Wine. The doors had opened for Chilean wine. Robert Mondavi visited Chadwick in 1991 – and the two men hit it off, sharing an unrelenting drive to push their industry forward, and Mondavi recognised in Chile the potential he had seen in Napa in the 1960s. He knew that his partnership with Ch. Mouton Rothschild (Opus One) had been key to changing Napa’s reputation – and the duo hoped that their own joint venture might do the same for Chile: Seña (literally meaning “signal”) was born. Bob’s son, Tim Mondavi worked with Chadwick on the project and suggested looking for a site closer to the coast in the Aconcagua Valley, in search of even greater finesse, producing the first vintage in 1995.  And Chadwick didn’t stop there. His father had purchased an estate in the Alto Maipo in 1945, home to a polo field (Eduardo’s father, Alfonso, had captained the Chilean team for years). In 1992, Chadwick convinced his father to let him transform the polo field – with its pure gravel soils and 15˚C diurnal swing – into a vineyard, feeling it was perfect for Cabernet Sauvignon. Alfonso died the following year, but the first vintage of this project – Viñedo Chadwick, named in honour of his father – was made in 1999.   Chadwick knew the wines were good – but convincing the world of that fact was the challenge. He’s clear that Chile made a major error in churning out great-value, entry-level wines – good, but not fine wines – a price-point that came to define the nation. “That’s why it was very difficult to convince the audience that we can also produce world-class wines,” says Chadwick. “Chile had no recognition. We had no ratings, no Parker points, no Suckling points.” And so he set about changing that with the Berlin Tasting.  With that event’s market-shifting results (then echoed around the world), he’d created momentum for change. A decade later, he went on to break through another boundary: the 2014 Viñedo Chadwick became the first Chilean wine to earn 100 points (from James Suckling). Just last year, the 2021 vintage was the first Chilean wine rated 100 points by the Wine Advocate. When I sat down with him March this year, it was at an event paying tribute to the two decades that have passed since the Berlin Tasting – featuring early vintages from each estate, and their greatest successes. The 1998 Seña was a particular standout – a cool vintage that today is perfumed, elegant, bright and effortlessly long. Any doubters of Chilean wine were instantly quieted. And, as with the Berlin tasting, the event was being replicated around the globe – the campaign to champion Chilean wine never ending.  When Chadwick started in 1983, Viña Errázuriz had just 10 hectares of vineyard. Today, across their estates, Chadwick farms 900 hectares of vines. He bought out his siblings years ago, when he found they were more interested in dividends than growing and investing in the business. Now three of his four daughters are working alongside him – excited by the potential of coastal sites (where they make the Las Pizarras wines) and a new sparkling project. There has been no shortage of challenges along the way, but they’ve only fuelled Chadwick’s relentless pursuit of recognition for Chile and its wines. “Where we are today is beyond my wildest dreams,” he tells me, and yet it’s only because of his tireless ambition that Chilean wine has made it to this point. Fortunately, it looks like his children have inherited his determination – ready to rule over the next chapter of this epic story.  Explore all listings of Viña Errázuriz, Seña and Viñedo Chadwick or read more about Chile 

In the last 40 years, Eduardo Chadwick has single-handedly forged a place for Chile in the fine wine arena. Two decades after the pivotal Berlin Tasting, Sophie Thorpe sat down with the man himself to explore his legacy – and what lies ahead 

20 years after the Berlin Tasting, we sit down with Eduardo Chadwick – the man that created Chile’s first icon wines, Sena, Vinedo Chadwick and Errazuriz

Championing Chile – Eduardo Chadwick

Championing Chile: Eduardo Chadwick

When Au Bon Climat founder Jim Clendenen unexpectedly passed away on 15th May 2021, aged just 68, there was an outpouring of sorrow. FONDATA’s Gavin Lucas considers how the one-of-a-kind bon vivant shaped Santa Barbara and California’s wine scene today

Gavin Lucas looks back on the life and times of Jim Clendenen, California’s original wild boy and a pioneer of fine Chardonnay and Pinot Noir in Santa Barbara

The legacy of Jim Clendenen – Au Bon Climat

The legacy of Au Bon Climat’s Jim Clendenen

Rome’s Baths of Caracalla fell into ruin in the 6th century. This illustrated reconstruction appeared in Hutchinson’s History of the Nations, published in 1915. Credit: Classic Images (Alamy Stock Photo). It took a shock to the system on the scale of the Covid-19 pandemic to demonstrate how much our lives can be reshaped by the humblest of objects. When restaurants, hotels, cafés and night clubs have all been closed for months on end – and when we are excluded even from each other’s homes – then park benches and patio heaters become stand-ins for the more elaborate architecture of everyday life that usually enable the interactions we depend on to function as social beings. For much of 2020, only the most rudimentary tools for conviviality were left to us. This works better at some times, than others. On a warm sunny day, all it takes to create an instant convivial space is a bench. This simple structure is the means for people to meet, share a view, a conversation, and perhaps a picnic. Add a back, arms, and a USB charger plus a Wi-Fi connection to the bench, and the proposition grows layers of complexity. It has become a people-attractor and a conversation starter too. This last year has helped us to understand better how to appreciate, through their absence, the things that make us the most human: being together, sharing food, drink and conversation, and marking the key moments in life. While we were forced into isolation, our attempts to replicate some of these experiences, with the use of a screen and a fitful broadband connection, showed us how inadequate they inevitably are. The experience suggests that social change, when it comes, is about an acceleration of what already exists – more than it is about a complete reinvention. Buying more online than we ever did in department stores is going to be a permanent shift. Some of us are less likely to fly to Australia for 24 hours for a business meeting than we were in 2019. But there are other things that will not change. We will still want to celebrate birthdays and weddings in the company of others. We will always want to meet our friends and look for chances to make new ones. And we enjoy doing all those things in the kind of spaces and places that make the most of the moment, which can make the seemingly routine into an occasion. Even at the basic level of the park bench, there are nuances to deal with. Chatting side by side is not the same experience as a face-to-face conversation. However, for some people, direct eye contact is as aggressive as an all-caps text message. It is why a walk in the park can be the best way to share a secret, and why Sigmund Freud conducted his consultations from behind the back of his couch. What we sit on is as significant as how we sit. In the average western living room in the 1960s, the armchair was the seat of power, occupied by family patriarchs. The matriarch, if she was lucky, got a slightly smaller version to herself. The sofa was designed in the same style, just large enough for two, and was for the use of supplicant sons-in-law. As the domestic world has expanded, so the sofa has taken on the dominant role over every other piece of domestic furniture. Sofas have been getting bigger for some time and are now reaching the size of lifeboats. They’re expected to cope with everything from conversation to work, assuming multiple roles as stand-in dining table, desk and bed. Social spaces, from the most intimate scale to the grandest, form an essential part of both our personal domestic worlds – in which we share our privacy with a selected group of friends and family – and the public one that we all share. It is a scaled sequence that runs all the way from a candlelit interior with a couple of chairs, a plain wooden table with two wine glasses, to the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II in Milan, which, with its heroic iron-roofed arcade, has a strong claim to be regarded as the mother of all shopping malls. When it opened in 1877, the newly empowered bourgeoisie (in their straw boaters and stiff detachable collars) took to it as the setting for their daily promenades on the way to and from the Duomo, Milan’s cathedral, where they celebrated Mass, or en route to a performance of a Verdi opera at La Scala. Stopping to take coffee and pastries, they would meet each other for an aperitif at Biffi or dinner at Savini, and explore the exotic wares that the shops in the Galleria had to offer. As futurist artist Umberto Boccioni demonstrated in his painting from 1910, Riot in the Galleria, there was a darker side to such spaces. He portrayed the agitated response of a turbulent crowd of well-dressed spectators to the sudden violence of a fight between two women – sex workers perhaps. The disturbing scene, depicted in pointilliste style (and based on an incident that actually took place), is bathed in lurid electric light, evoking the frenzied atmosphere of this giant outdoor room and its extraordinary impact on the behaviour of a mass society. An unintended consequence of the lockdown has been the enforcement of the monogamy-based model of the nuclear family. It made the year particularly difficult for all those who don’t subscribe to it. We will need places we can dress up for again, places we can show off in, even places in which we can behave badly. The painting is, in some senses, a reminder that urban life is essentially about tolerance. Complex spaces have always been a vital part of urban life. Almost 2,000 years ago, the Romans built the Baths of Caracalla on a lavish scale, with three separate pools, libraries and gymnasia – and gardens large enough to accommodate 1,600 people at a time in comfort. Its mosaic and marble floors, its frescoes and sculptures made it one of Rome’s essential landmarks, not only as a monument to the glory of the emperor who built it – though it certainly was that – but also as a place to be used by people, day and night. Its magnificence, and the sense of the joy of a great shared civic space, inspired the American architect Charles McKim when he designed New York’s Pennsylvania Station, one the most sublime railway stations ever built. The central waiting room, barbarously destroyed 50 years after it opened, was a convincing recreation of the baths of Caracalla that lifted the spirits of anyone who passed through it. The months of isolation have taught us how important shared spaces of all kinds are to the way that we live. They are the places in which we meet each other to celebrate the important rituals of life, as well as to pursue the seemingly trivial (actually essential) compulsion to gossip about one another. As an essentially self-conscious species, we need alibis to give ourselves permission to be convivial. We construct reasons to meet each other, like the 19th century clubs of Pall Mall, or their democratic paraphrase – with its provision of gender segregation, and games room, and its mix of intimacy and ceremony – the Victorian pub full of mirrors and cut glass. Or in today’s context, a bowling alley configured to allow players and their friends to sit at a table, order food and drinks, and watch each other play, and to hear each other converse. Some public spaces do better at conviviality than others. The Las Vegas casino, for example, is designed to be the opposite of convivial. Slot machines on an industrial scale obviate the need for any form of human interaction. With its glass dome, and 25 miles of bookshelves, the old round reading room at the British Museum is certainly a very special space, although it has now lost its intellectual raison d’être and has become a dead monument. In its day, a reader’s ticket conferred membership of an exclusive club that included Oscar Wilde, Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, and George Orwell. But as the museum’s insistence on silence suggests – beyond unspoken flirtation over the book stacks – it was not a place that was fundamentally about conviviality. The Berghain Club, the raw, concrete world capital of techno music based in a redundant power station in Friedrichshain, in what was once East Berlin, is another very different kind of public space, and – in its own way – an equally spectacular social space. It has a pickier door policy than the British Museum but a similarly committed membership. In this case, the limit on conviviality is not silence, but the sheer volume of sound that makes the 18-metre-high main spaces vibrate, and which makes conversation inconceivable. A truly convivial space needs to work on multiple levels, to offer a variety of zones, some of which can encourage concentration, and others that can be distracting. Some may be more intimate than others. It’s a drive that is leading to an interesting range of cross-fertilisation. Cinemas that serve food more ambitious than popcorn and hot dogs are being equipped with sofas instead of tip-up seats. Health spas come with restaurants. However, not all convivial spaces encourage multiple uses. Orchestration and control are part of the experience at those English clubs that frown on members showing any signs of working, to the extent of asking them to put away notebook and pencil – never mind laptops – over lunch. Some aspects of what we have learned from the last year will colour life well into the future. The private dining room is a long-standing restaurant tradition, which has been given a new lease of life. We can also expect to see signs of change in the workplace. The Silicon Valley model has aspired to look as domestic as possible, furnished with sofas and kitchen tables, surrounded by vintage and deliberately non-matching chairs. A year of working at home is likely to encourage a more formal environment. But while we continually try to find new tools to make conviviality possible, the objectives remain the same. In a year in which all our assumptions about how we live together have been turned upside down, the world’s designers and architects have had to face the challenge of how to deal with the impact of the pandemic on our homes and our cities. As city centres empty out, and people avoid crowds, how can we find ways to socialise? 
Deyan Sudjic asked four leading designers and architects to explore the future directions that conviviality can take for FONDATA. John Pawson Architect John Pawson has always focused on the idea of designing the architecture of conviviality. In his recently released Home Farm Cooking book, produced with his wife Catherine and published by Phaidon, we see what matters most. Every Pawson interior is designed with how it will feel to use it in mind – is it to be enjoyed by somebody on their own, or with others? He takes away the distractions and lets us focus on how we use and feel in a room. He makes some spaces in which to read and to concentrate, others in which to share the preparation of a meal, and yet another to enjoy the result in company. Intrinsic in his philosophy is the importance of creating a setting where one can appreciate light at different times of the day – whether it is the shades of white as revealed by degrees of sunlight or the warming effect of firelight by night. johnpawson.com AB Rogers Ab Rogers was inspired by the spontaneous street life of the neighbourhood in 
East London in which he lives and works to come up with a range of furniturelike structures to give social spontaneity a helping hand. “Whether it’s planned 
or serendipitous, we wanted to design a set of colourful pieces that could help 
to turn a momentary catch-up on the street into an impromptu drinks party, 
anchored by a tuned-up bollard. Or make a surprise anniversary dinner possible 
under a street lamp … or make a breath of fresh air turn into a long lunch with 
new friends at a long table under the trees.”  abrogers.com Paloma Strelitz Paloma Strelitz, an architect, and co-founder of the Turner Prize winning 
collective Assemble, took an overview of how shopping streets might recover 
from lockdown, to generate new life: “convivial, accessible, sustainable and 
enjoyable for all”. The experience of negotiating streets in which precautions 
against the pandemic had caused restaurants and food shops to migrate to 
the pavement, made her think about ways to make this a permanent quality.
“It’s an opportunity to empower local business. Shops could open their 
facades to the street, creating an expanded space of public interaction, and 
daily theatre.” She would keep the car in its place, with priority for pedestrians and bikes, 
and banned altogether at weekends. What were once parking places would 
become green borders, combining play space, raised planters, flower beds 
and trees, allowing the street to become a promenade. Meanwhile the street 
would be animated not just by cafés, but studios and workshops putting the 
making process on show. Oh, and a mobile bar too.  assemblestudio.co.uk Jon Marshall  Jon Marshall, an industrial design partner at Pentagram in London, found himself 
thinking about ways to bring together two very different kinds of object: a hamper, 
designed to carry utensils food and drink securely, and a shooting stick. “They 
aren’t really about shooting,” he explains. “The shooting stick is actually a very 
convenient way of carrying the means to sit anywhere with you.”  The hamper allows for the sense of anticipation that comes from preparing for 
a pleasurable occasion. The two objects have very different aesthetics – one is 
vaguely mechanical, the other has a kind and rustic quality. For Marshall, the idea 
of the shared walk – with the chance of stopping for a picnic – is the very essence 
of conviviality. pentagram.com/about/jon-marshall This article was originally published in FONDATA, Issue One

The past year has seen a huge change in our ability to interact, and opportunities to be social. Deyan Sudjic considers the importance of conviviality for human beings – and the public spaces we design.

Deyan Sudjic considers the importance of conviviality for human beings – and the public spaces we design.

FONDATA: The Importance of Being Convivial

The Importance of Being Convivial  

Exploring the world of eaux de vie with artisan distillers who are elevating the ancient harvest ritual to the realm of alchemy

Exploring the world of eaux de vie with Rochelt, Capreolus, Domaine Roulot and Capovilla, who are elevating the ancient harvest ritual to the realm of alchemy

FONDATA: The quest for distilled perfection - eaux de vie

Fruits of wonder: the quest for distilled perfection

Marisa Cuomo

Accounts

Your access is restricted because of your age.

Access forbidden

You must be over the legal age to view this page. Please verify your age to enter.

Are you over the legal age to purchase alcohol?

As a result of the quantity requested for delivery, we recommend using Third Party Shipping. If you proceed with our Shipping, there may be a delay to the selected ship date.

As a result of the quantity requested for delivery, we recommend using Third Party Shipping. If you proceed with our Shipping, you will not be able to define a ship date, and we will get in touch with you to arrange delivery.

Your order request will be cancelled. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Due to the quantity requested for collection, there may be a delay in meeting your requested collection date.

Due to the quantity requested for collection, it is not possible to define a collection date at this stage. Our team will liaise with the warehouse and contact you directly to confirm a suitable pick-up date.

This item has been listed by a collector and is available for storage or immediate delivery

For orders with a high value, we recommend shipping with a third party carrier. Items shipped with third parties will remain in banded OWCs.

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to select a collection date. Please submit your request, and we will liaise with our warehouse and confirm the collection date with you directly.

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to continue the purchase. Please select third party, or change the quantity (maximum 48 is allowed).

Due to the quantity requested, you won’t be able to select a shipping date at checkout. Please submit your request, and we will liaise with our warehouse and confirm the delivery date with you directly.

For up to 499 bottles in storage, the rate is 39¢/bottle per month or a $50 minimum monthly charge (this covers up to 142 bottles). For over 500 bottles, the storage rate is 35¢/bottle per month.

Storage is charged at HKD 40 per 12-bottle case per month. A minimum monthly storage fee of HKD 80 applies, covering up to 24 bottles.

Standard storage rate

By selecting third-party shipping, you will take full responsibility for all aspects of legal compliance and authorize Vinfolio to transfer the items to the party specified in your instructions. Items shipped via third parties will remain in their original packaging.

Collection times are between 8:30am - 12pm & 1:30pm - 4:30pm, Monday to Friday. Wines at Will Call, that are not picked up within 10 business days, will be transferred to storage and subject to a $1.50 per bottle stocking fee.

Items to be sourced and shipped to our state-of-the-art fine wine storage facility for the best possible safe-keeping where you can arrange collection from our warehouse address in Napa.

Will Call (Napa)

You entered the incorrect password too many times. Your account has been temporarily locked. Please wait five minutes before trying again.

It seems you are visiting from {country}, we invite you to experience our {nationality} website.

Are you browsing from {country}?

We’re unable to process your order with both event tickets and a wine or spirit product in the same transaction. To proceed, please remove either the event tickets or the item from your basket. You’ll then be able to complete your purchase.

Please review your basket

Forgot Password

We're in the final stages of upgrading to our brand-new trading platform. As part of this transition, we're currently migrating all customer-owned inventory to ensure a smooth and seamless experience.

Our new and improved platform will be ready for you on Friday, April 4.

Thank you for your patience - we can't wait to show you what's next.

Oops, something went wrong

We couldn't find any results to show here.

Please note: delivery, duty and VAT charges may apply

Our website is currently down for maintenance.

Maintenance Mode

Pre-authorizing a Payment Method enables your Account Manager to make payments on your behalf, without payment verification.

Pre-authorize

This transaction has been blocked by authentication failure.

Authentication failure

Your payment card has expired. Please check your details and try again.

Expired card

Insufficient funds to pay your balance. Please check your details and try again.

Insufficient funds

This transaction has been blocked by the payment provider due to possible fraudulent behaviour.

Transaction blocked

Please choose a different payment method and try again.

Unknown error

About description for demonstration purposes

shows all the items you currently store with us. These items can be sold, delivered or transferred.

At {shortName}

Your allocation will be cancelled. Are you sure you want to continue?

Your pre-order item will be deleted. Are you sure you want to continue?

Your delivery request will be cancelled. Are you sure you want to proceed?

represents all the wines that are in your possession and have been consumed.

This is the price you paid for this item.

Cost price

After adding your new address, you'll be redirected back to this page.

Create a new address

Your notification will be deleted. Are you sure you want to continue?

The lowest price you're willing to sell at. If the net price goes below this value your listing will be removed.

shows all the items that you have pre-ordered, including en primeur wines, and all the items on your watchlist.

Futures

You can set a floor price on items you're selling based on a % of current unit net value.

You can set a market price on items you're selling based on a % of current unit net value.

shows all the actions that you have taken on items in your Portfolio.

groups every action by type - Purchase, Sale, Delivery, and Inbound Transfer - so it's clear at a glance what happened to each item.

History

shows all the items that are currently in transit to or from {shortName}.

In transit

Local delivery is free for orders over HK$1,800 (to a single location). For orders below this value, delivery is HK$150 for up to four cases and HK$50 per case thereafter.

Shipping starts from €15 within Italy and €45 to Switzerland and the rest of Europe for up to 48 bottles (75cl). Costs vary by destination. Larger shipments can be quoted on request.

The date shown below is when your order will ship from our local warehouse. Your final delivery date, along with full tracking details, will be provided once our team has processed your request.

You can arrange collection from our Retail store on 22nd Floor, 8 Wyndham Street, Central Hong Kong.
Collection times are between 9:30am-13:00 and 14:00-18:00pm, Monday to Friday. We are closed on public holidays.

You can arranged collection from our warehouse STI INTERNAZIONALE SPA, on Viale del Lavoro, 57, 37051 Bovolone, Verona.
Pick-up hours are between 8:30 AM to 12:30 PM and 1:30 PM to 5:30 PM, Monday to Friday. We are closed on public holidays.

This is the current estimated market value for this item.

Manually set prices will be overwritten. Already listed wines are not affected.

Updates all unlisted wines to current market price.

Set all at market

represents all the wines you currently have in your Portfolio that aren't stored with us. Press the

My cellar

Name

Net price

New portfolio available

New portfolio

You do not have any invoices at this time.

shows all the items from your Portfolio that are currently on the market.

On sale

shows all the items you currently have in your Portfolio. You can perform individual actions on them from this page.

Overview

shows any items that are currently awaiting user action.

Pending

This is the dynamic market price of the item with trading margin removed.

This is the amount of profit you will receive if your listing sells.

Pre-authorised payments enable automatic transactions on your behalf, ensuring seamless and hassle-free payments. This allows recurring charges, subscriptions, or scheduled payments to be processed without manual approval each time.

The number of cases you wish to place on sale

Your catalogue item will be archived. Are you sure you want to continue?

Your catalogue items will be archived. Are you sure you want to continue?

Before you request delivery, you can adjust the quantity for each item in your selection below.

*Market price is dynamic and may change. At time of sale a 10% trading fee will be deducted from the final sale price.

Total market price*

The fixed custom price you wish to sell each item for.

Split into {caseSize} individual {bottleSize}cl bottles.

Title

shows all the items you currently store with us. These items can be sold.

Available for sale — items stored with {name} eligible to be listed on the marketplace.

Profile

This item is at FINE+RARE, available for storage, transfer or delivery.
 Most UK deliveries can be made within 3-5 working days, with next day delivery for London;
 an exact date will be available when arranging delivery.
 International deliveries have longer lead-times, please contact us for details.

This item is at FINE+RARE HOME Hong Kong, available for delivery or local pickup. Most Hong Kong deliveries can be made within 3 working days, an exact date will be available when arranging delivery. International deliveries have longer lead-times, please contact us for details.

Wines sold en primeur will be released from the producer after bottling, typically 18 months after the so-called campaign ends. Your wine will then be stored by FINE+RARE in a bonded warehouse until you decide to take delivery.

We will source this item at the guaranteed price from our network of suppliers and arrange expedited shipment to FINE+RARE.
 The lead-time depends on many variables, but 2-4 weeks is typical for expedited sourcing.
 Once your order is confirmed, we'll keep you updated on its ETA.
 Every item is checked on arrival by our expert team, with photographs available on request (please note that charges may apply).

We will source this item at the guaranteed price from our network of suppliers and arrange shipment to FINE+RARE.
 The lead-time depends on many variables, but 6-12 weeks is an average estimate.
 Once your order is confirmed, we'll keep you updated on its ETA.
 Every item is checked on arrival by our expert team, with photographs available on request (please note that charges may apply).

Marisa Cuomo

Filter

Please wait

Related articles