Jaime Araujo’s surname is a familiar one to Napa collectors. Her parents Daphne and Bart purchased the famed Eisele Vineyard in Calistoga in 1990 and established their eponymous winery on the site shortly after. Jaime was enrolled in university at the time and wouldn’t join her parents in Napa for many years, instead spending over two decades studying and working in Europe, including a stint at Moët Hennessey. She arrived in Napa in 2012 to work alongside her parents as a business consultant, but the job was short-lived, when the winery and Eisele Vineyard was sold to Artémis Domaines (the parent company of Ch. Latour) in 2013.   While her parents went on to establish Accendo Cellars, with Jaime and her brother as partners, the itch to build a business of her own only grew stronger. “I always wanted to run a business as a force for good,” she recalls. She got her chance during the first vintage at Accendo in 2013, when she turned a Cabernet Sauvignon lot that didn’t quite fit in with any of the Accendo cuveés into her first 300 cases of Trois Noix wine. (The name – French for “three nuts” – is a cheeky reference to her two children, as well as her brother’s daughter, all quite young at the time.)   Despite her family’s legacy, and perhaps the temptation to enter the market at the top end, as many newcomers do, Jaime was intent to create wines that were approachable and embodied sustainability ideals. This included a pricing strategy that skewed heavily towards affordable options, ranging from $30-50 per bottle and the most expensive Cabernet Sauvignon topping out at $150. “I’m not in this to make billions,” she laughs. “It’s so important that Napa is accessible to as many people as possible. You have to be welcoming and make wines that appeal to everyone.”    Even before Jaime was developing her brand, Steve Matthiasson had been quietly establishing a reputation as one of Napa’s most respected organic winegrowing experts. After studying horticulture as a graduate student at the University of California Davis, he launched his wine career in 1995 as a viticultural consultant, going on to settle in Napa with his wife Jill Klein Matthiasson in 2002 and building an impressive client roster. Since 2007, Steve has worked closely with the Araujo family, first for Eisele vineyard – where he continues to consult – as well as at Accendo. Other current and past clients include Dalla Valle, Spottswoode and Chappellet.   The process of becoming a winemaker in addition to viticulturalist, however, has been a slow and steady process. Matthiasson says he learned about wine almost by osmosis over the years, sitting in on client tastings and by keen observation. In 2003, Steve and Jill produced just 120 cases under their name, but by 2017, they reached a major milestone with the purchase of a small winemaking facility and neighbouring vineyard in the Oak Knoll AVA – a massive accomplishment for two outsiders with little initial capital. Last year, their production reached 12,000 cases, stretched across 25 unique cuveés. Today, Steve farms most of the vineyards he makes wine from, including a small vineyard at his home, where he has planted rows of northern Italian varieties, including Refosco, Ribolla Gialla and Schioppettino.   Inside the compact Matthiasson winery, cosy by Napa standards, foudres line the walls and nearly every inch is occupied with equipment, case goods and barrels. In the corner, a stack of large glass jars filled with liquids of varying colours sits – the aromatics steeping in alcohol for vermouth, Steve explains, which he and his wife make along with olive oil and jam, as accompaniments to the unique lineup of wines Matthiasson produces, ranging from single-vineyard Cabernets to more esoteric fruit and wine co-ferments. While many collectors still may not have heard of Matthiasson, Steve says he is proud to be sought after by sommeliers and others in the wine trade: “We like to say we’re the musicians’ musician.”   Both Jaime and Steve believe strongly that their businesses must be both environmentally and socially responsible. “It’s so important to stand up for what you believe in,” Jaime emphasises. Today, Trois Noix boasts a range of sustainability initiatives, including B Corp status, a high-level sustainability certification which only two other wineries in Napa currently possess. Though not specific to wine or agriculture, B Corp certification is awarded after a rigorous assessment to prove a dedication to positive community impact alongside profit.   In the same vein, all of the vineyards Steve farms for Matthiasson are organic, which is the certification that is the most meaningful to him – and represents a full circle of sorts from his early days studying agriculture, when winemaking was not yet on the horizon. “Organic farming has become not just accepted but embraced since I’ve been here,” Steve says, saying that it’s becoming the norm rather than the exception, especially so for the most well-known cult Napa wineries. “And it’s not just for PR,” he adds, saying many don’t broadcast their farming practices. “They truly believe it makes better wine.” Steve believes the standard of farming has improved dramatically since he arrived in Napa and so has the quality of the resulting fruit. “As the years have gone by, our ability to do the right thing has increased,” he says.  The resulting wines that both Trois Noix and Matthiasson produce are crafted in a fresh style, with an emphasis on primary fruit and terroir-specific cuvées, as opposed to dominant oak or heavy extraction that have been the trend for fine wine in Napa. Araujo says she is trying to craft wines that are reminiscent of Napa 50 years ago, by using a light hand. “We started getting bigger and bolder in Napa, and that’s fine, but we can do this, too, and do it well.” Araujo describes her goal each vintage as crafting wines in a “sweet spot”, built to enjoy immediately but also with the structure and acidity to age for several years at a minimum.    At Matthiasson, pick dates are watched closely, and occur on the early side for Napa, so that alcohols remain low and acidity is naturally brisk. Other than a small amount of sulphur, no other additions are made. “We utilise traditional winemaking methods,” Steve says – quick to note, though, with a laugh, that there is a difference between “natural and natty”, explaining that his goal is to make fresh, clean wines from the healthiest fruit possible. Unlike other Napa wineries that employ optical sorters and tables lined with harvest workers examining every berry, Mathiasson does not sort the fruit prior to fermentation, trusting instead in the farming and meticulous picking over multiple passes.   “We’ve always been an agricultural community, and no one wanted to talk about that for a long time,” Jaime tells me. She believes the future of Napa will be a focus on not just high quality but also history, community and a reputation for doing the right thing. These will not be talking points for her brand only, however, as last year she was elected Board Chair of the Napa Valley Vintners. A nonprofit trade association founded in 1944, NVV acts as a voice for the wine business in Napa Valley, promoting, supporting and advocating for its over 500 members. “I’m a bridge between old and new because of my family and my experience,” Jaime says, explaining that she hopes to bring a fresh perspective on the future of Napa, one that emphasises a range of styles and price points, but most of all, is able to welcome a wider range of people than ever before, by showing the varied people and places of the region. Matthiasson voices a similar ethos. “The wine business has so much artifice, but we want to let people in.”  Matthiasson and Trois Noix collaborated on a special lot for Premiere Napa Valley last year – a lot that we purchased and will soon be releasing. Please contact your Account Manager to register interest. 

In a region where wine is often a byword for luxury, two producers are dedicated to reminding drinkers of Napa’s humble roots. Rachael Ryan – Senior Buyer for our US arm, Vinfolio – talks to Jaime Araujo and Steve Matthiasson about their philosophy, farming and approach to making wine 

Two Napa wine producers are championing economic, environmental and social sustainability: we talk to Trois Noix’s Jaime Araujo and Steve Matthiasson 

Farming for the future: Trois Noix and Matthiasson 

If there is one new constant in Napa, it’s that each vintage seems to bring extraordinary conditions – once-in-a-lifetime circumstances now occur with regularity.   In 2020, the historic Glass Fire erupted near the end of harvest, cutting power for many wineries, damaging vineyards, and meaning many producers didn’t release any wine, due to potential smoke taint. The 2021 vintage, on the other hand, was quieter with no wildfire activity; however, the lingering effects of a severe three-year drought caused reduced yields and the need for meticulous water management. Completing a trifecta of climate change issues, the theme of 2022 was neither smoke nor drought, but intense heat.   Unlike the unusually dry winters that preceded the 2020 and 2021 vintages, the winter before the 2022 vintage marked a return to normal rainfall totals. With over 18 inches of rain between the end of harvest and the start of 2022 alone, the three-year drought was broken. Steady rainfall continued into the early months of 2022 and, after a warm spring, budburst and flowering were slightly earlier than normal. The summer progressed in classic Napa Valley fashion, dry and warm, and the ample water levels led to healthy, well-developed canopies, unlike the previous two vintages. Though two minor heat spikes occurred in May and June, both were brief and too early in the season to have significant impact. All of this changed in the first week of September, however, when a major heatwave was predicted. While most white grapes were already harvested, the timing was critical for red grapes, the majority of which were approaching ripeness but needed additional hang time to achieve optimal flavour development and ripeness. The question every winemaker faced was: just how bad would the heat be?   Winegrowers had two choices: act conservatively and harvest whatever was close to maturity, or bet that the fruit would tolerate the heat. Of course, many variables influenced the choice, including vineyard elevation, vine age, access to irrigation and other heat-mitigation techniques such as misters and shade cloth. For later-ripening varieties and cooler sites, there was little choice but to endure the heat with fingers crossed.  For those who chose to wait, the heat spike was both longer and more severe than predicted – record-breaking, even. The first few days of September were hot – with peak temperatures ranging from 32-35̊C – but beginning on 4th September, daily temperatures soared over 38̊C for six critical days. In some lower-lying areas of the valley, historical records were shattered with temperatures surpassing 46̊C.  For winemaker Mike Smith of Myriad Cellars, the decision was stressful, as most of the fruit he works with, including from To Kalon and Dr Crane vineyards on the valley floor, were not fully ripe. Ultimately, he decided to wait. He likens this experience to facing a stronger team on the playing field, where no matter the outcome, the weaker team will become tougher as a result. Though he is pleased with the resulting wines, he says he still wonders what they would have been like if picked earlier.  Other winemakers didn’t wait for the heat to begin, but instead shifted their plans well in advance. At Philip Togni Vineyard on Spring Mountain, winemaker Lisa Togni says she “jumped the gun on harvesting”, starting on 23rd August – the earliest harvest ever in the history of the winery. She was able to harvest one-third of the property before the heatwave began and says the remainder was able to be brought in shortly after the heatwave ended, at optimal ripeness or slightly higher than normal.   When the heat dome settled over Napa Valley, however, some winemakers quickly pivoted. Winemaker Allison Tauziet of Colgin Cellars remembers she was in St Helena every night when the heat began, tasting in the dark, because she was so concerned about losing freshness. “I could sense flavors moving faster than I’d ever seen,” she says. Just a few days into the heatwave, Tauziet made the snap decision to pick all the fruit that was destined for the Cariad and Tychson Hill wines. “We nailed it,” she says, “We got maturity but didn’t sacrifice anything.”    Many small wineries with fewer resources, however, scrambled to find picking crews, as demand surged. As Lisa Togni points out, “Developing a relationship with pickers is critical. When you need them, you really need them.” Fermentation-tank availability was another major concern. With a suddenly very compressed harvest, not every winery had sufficient space to process the fruit.  Even with varied picking decisions, the multitude of microclimates and site variations in Napa Valley also affected outcomes. Elevation helps to mitigate heat, and this was the case on Howell Mountain at Dunn Vineyard, says winemaker Mike Dunn. Located 2,000 feet above the valley floor, temperatures were six or seven degrees (Fahrenheit) cooler, though still “incredibly unusual” and led to fruit with higher-than-average ripeness. He notes that a few of the 2022 lots at Dunn will likely be de-alcoholised, a technique famously adopted by his father Randy Dunn to keep the wines in balance and below his preferred maximum of 14% alcohol. At Sleeping Lady Vineyard in Yountville, a location “hard up against the Mayacamas mountains”, as described by Ad Vivum winemaker Chris Phelps, the natural shading that occurs from about 3pm onwards always shields the grapes from the hot afternoon sun – a feature that proved especially useful in 2022.  On September 10th, the heatwave broke, and just a week later, winemakers were presented with another potential challenge: nearly an inch of rain in one day. This, too, was record-breaking for the month of September, which typically sees little to no rain. The rain event was not enough to be impactful after the long, dry stretch of summer, says Mike Dunn, who instead described it as just enough to wash the dust off the grapes. On Pritchard Hill, the rain measured three quarters of an inch, but Tauziet says it was “not at all a big deal” for Colgin, and the days following were cool and dry, so mildew pressure was low.  Like Mike Smith, Dunn describes the vintage as a learning experience that will help form future decisions. He is considering a sorting table, which Dunn has never used before. “We are one of the few that are that primitive and that is intentional,” he says, noting that while he and his father’s goal has always been to avoid overly homogenous fruit, a vintage like 2022 made avoiding desiccated berries difficult. Similarly, the brutal heat caused Lisa Togni to decide to build a shade structure over the winery’s crush pad, which she describes as a matter of “human safety” in an increasingly warm region.   Other wineries have already adapted to hotter conditions and more frequent heat events. Up on Pritchard Hill at the Colgin estate, where the fruit is typically harvested later – and in 2022, after the heatwave – shade cloths are used across the entire vineyard. Tauziet adds that misters are used on blocks that are more vulnerable, including thinner-skinned Cabernet Sauvignon clones. Rather than irrigate the vine, the misters instead reduce the air temperature inside the canopy.  When it came to managing the fruit in the winery, it seems approaches varied, although the naturally high pH for later-picked fruit posed a potential ferment – with risks of stuck ferments and the associated problems. Many producers said they did little different, although – as mentioned – many emphasised sorting out any dried berries, but it’s a vintage where generalisations are difficult.  Increasingly extreme weather in Napa – whether from fire, drought or heat – makes vintage comparisons to 2022 difficult. Mike Smith sees some similarities with the heatwave at the start of harvest in 2017, however, which also led to opulent, rich concentration of fruit which he also sees in the 2022 wines. Lisa Togni reaches further back, to 1991, for a comparison, noting that it was a very ripe year that wound up evolving gracefully, while Allison Tauziet likens the texture of 2022 to 2002, for the “amazing expression of fruit”, and she doesn’t see any reason to disparage the wines. “It’s kind of shocking that I really like them,” she says, noting that, despite the stress of the vintage, “there’s a lot of what we’re always seeking: flavor, minerality and perfume.”  Coming after the highly structured 2021 vintage, which was marked by densely packed tannins, the 2022 wines are likely to please those seeking more immediate pleasure. The word “soft” is one that Chris Phelps uses to describe the wines but cautions that he doesn’t mean that in a derogatory way. “There is a natural hedonistic aspect the 2022s have had in spades since – or even before -- they left the fermenter,” he says. “The wine is fresh and has been charming since it was in juice form prior to fermentation. There's plenty of acid for vibrancy and tension, but with just a very slight touch higher pH.”  Most of the wines we’ve tasted so far share a bold style, with opulent layers of fruit and supple tannins. It’s important to note, however, that this is clearly not a homogenous vintage. Vineyard location and aspect were crucial, with higher elevations and those areas better shielded from the sun faring better. It’s clear that the line between fully ripe and overly ripe fruit flavours is razor-thin in this tricky vintage, with many wines showing notes of cooked, even desiccated fruit – not surprising, given the conditions. But collectors should certainly not be put off the vintage, as many other wines show excellent balance and a juicy, friendly exuberance that makes them very pleasurable even in their youth.  The 2022 vintage began as routine, but – in what seems be the new normal in Napa – shifted virtually overnight, forcing winemakers to make quick decisions based on their own unique location and combination of contributing factors. While the resulting wines will share some characteristics, the 2022s are formed by their microclimate, as well as the resources and quick decision-making skills of the winemakers. Lisa Togni also credits her successful harvest to another factor: sheer luck. Much like 2021, when fire licked the edges of the Togni property but spared her parents’ house and the winery, Togni is grateful above all else. “I feel for everyone who didn’t have the luck we did,” Togni says. “2022 was a reminder to be ever vigilant. You can’t relax even for a minute anymore.”    Napa 2022: the vintage in brief   Ample winter rainfall ended a three-year drought The bulk of the growing season was uneventful, with normal temperatures and rainfall  Beginning the first week of September, a record-breaking heatwave lasted six days  Yields are lower than average, though not as low as the drought-impacted 2021  Quality is heterogenous, with the wineries that were able to make quick picking decisions impacted less by the heatwave  The best wines are opulent, dense and concentrated, with a juicy exuberance that makes them approachable early  The 2022 wines from some estates are now being released; keep your eyes out for Schrader and Double Diamond, launching soon 

A year of extreme conditions, 2022 demanded much of Napa’s producers. Rachael Ryan – Senior Buyer for our US arm, Vinfolio – spoke to the region’s top producers about the vintage, reporting on the growing season and the wines 

Your essential guide to the 2022 vintage in California’s Napa Valley, with information from Togni, Ad Vivum, Myriad, Dunn and Colgin

Napa 2022 vintage report

Napa 2022: the bold and the brave

After the stresses of 2020 – with severe drought, heat and widespread wildfires, the 2021 vintage provided much-needed relief for Napa’s wine producers. Not only was the growing season reassuringly uneventful, but the resulting wines are fantastic. Concentrated, pure with vibrant acidity, this is a vintage that sits alongside 2013, 2018 and 2019 – the best in recent years. “I’m very happy to move on from talking about 2020! It was stressful to go through and stressful to relive,” said Maya Dalla Valle, winemaker at the eponymous estate founded her parents. Most winemakers and vineyard managers held their breath as the 2021 season progressed, anxious about the potential return of hazardous wildfires that increasingly seem to be the new normal in Northern California, but the danger never materialised.   The most significant factor influencing the 2021 harvest was instead drought, which unfortunately entered a second year. Conditions were exceedingly dry – historically so, says Chris Phelps of Ad Vivum, who noted that it was one of the driest years he can remember. Napa’s Mediterranean climate dictates that nearly all precipitation falls during the months of October-March, and the rains generally begin in the weeks following the close of each harvest, but this didn’t happen in 2020. While early winter was quite cold, helping to push the vines into dormancy, but rain didn’t arrive until January, February and March 2021. With around seven inches measured in Oakville, this was significantly lower than normal and far less than the total amount needed to reinvigorate the roots and replenish the water table.  Access to water, either from precision irrigation, or the benefit of a location with good water supply, therefore, was critical to shoot growth and canopy development. Sleeping Lady Vineyard in southern Yountville – the fruit from which Ad Vivum is crafted – backs up against the Mayacamas Mountains that form the western edge of Napa Valley. Here, natural springs funnel moisture down to the vineyard. In other locations, such as the eastern hillsides of the valley, long sunlight hours and faster-draining soils presented a greater challenge. The solution at Dalla Valle was to begin irrigation much earlier than normal, and at a greater volume, in order to mimic the rainfall that didn’t happen naturally. Although 2021’s growing season was quite warm, it was cooler than 2020 and, importantly, there were very few heat waves – and those that did take place were mercifully short. The first of these spikes, where the daily temperature reached over 37˚ Celsius, occurred in mid-June, a point early enough in the growing season where its impact was negligible. The remainder of the summer was consistently warm, with little variation, up until late August and early September, when the valley saw two minor heat spikes. The diurnal swing that Napa is known for, with nights quickly cooling down after sunset, was also in full effect in 2021, helping to preserve the grapes’ natural acidity. Given the steady weather and lack of wildfire risk, winemakers had the luxury of time when deciding to pick. For most, harvest began in the first two weeks of September – slightly earlier than average, but not drastically so. The year’s dry conditions reduced yields, which was not surprising, though “sometimes harrowing” as Andy Erickson (of Favia, and star consultant winemaker) described. The resulting clusters were lighter than normal, comprised of small berries with thick skins. While Phelps reported that the yields at Ad Vivum were down by 15%, he emphasised the positives that have emerged from these small, compact clusters: “The colour is extraordinary, with higher than normal levels of anthocyanins due to the long, slow ripening.” Others reported an even more drastic reduction in yield – up to 30% in some locations – though variation depends on not just access to water, but also soil type and depth. Vine age can also help mitigate drought conditions. Lisa Togni of Philip Togni Vineyard, perched at nearly 2,000 feet at the top of Spring Mountain, said that her yields were more or less normal, something she credits to the 32-year average age of her vines, which, remarkably, have never been irrigated. She feels that her vines’ well-established roots are able to reach deeper and access more water than younger vines. The low yields also sparked some wineries to change course in the vineyard prior to harvest, in regard to both shoot thinning and dropping fruit. Opus One made the decision to halt their green harvest. This process – during which a certain number of clusters per vine are removed, lowers yield and increases the intensity of the remaining fruit while also eliminating any slightly under- or over-ripe clusters – was always standard for Opus One, as it is for many wineries in Napa. This decision to change course was an easy one to make in a year like 2021, winemaker Michael Silacci said, and he is thrilled with the results, describing “more of a range of ripeness, with more layers and texture, and more vineyard character” in the final wine.  In the winery, tannin management was crucial. With a reduced skin-to-juice ratio, it was important to handle the fruit gently. For Tony Biagi, winemaker at several Napa Valley wineries, including Hourglass, Amici, The Vineyardist and To Kalon Vineyard Co, the main puzzle was how to coax colour from the fruit, while avoiding over-extraction of the tannins. “We were meticulous in how we macerated; we shortened the window,” he explained. Biagi said that the firm tannins are reminiscent of 2013, though perhaps not quite as muscular, as the more stable weather of 2021 allowed “more time to buff the edges”. At Dalla Valle, the decision was made to leave the wines in barrel for an additional two months because they displayed so much power and concentration. Despite the smaller berries and low yields, the condition of the fruit was described as nearly perfect by everyone. Low disease pressure and the lack of heat spikes produced uniformly healthy, good-looking clusters. Silacci recalls perhaps the most worrying moment of the 2021 harvest at Opus One, when their optical sorter broke down just as the fruit began arriving at the winery. Fortunately, however, the quality of the fruit made a stressful moment less so: “If ever there was a vintage we didn’t need a sorter it was 2021!” Early impressions of the final wines are uniformly positive – glowing with praise, even – and not simply because the year was a welcome relief following the trials of 2020. As we found in our tastings, the wines offer concentration and intensity with real purity of fruit, all balanced by refreshing and somewhat surprising acidity – allowing them to age beautifully. Phelps noted that the 2021s remind him of 2016, 2018 and 2019, all vintages with “great concentration, tension and generosity”. For Biagi, the vintage instead portends a new direction for the region, while referencing other hallmark great vintages of the past. “For me, the 2021s are classically Napa Valley. They are not crazy ripe, and you get a sense of the new style Napa is moving towards, with both power and freshness,” he opined. But perhaps Togni summarises the year most simply: “2021 was the kind of vintage we hope for every year.” Napa 2021 in brief: The growing season was – especially after 2020 – refreshingly uneventful The wines offer both concentration and freshness Dry and warm, but not overly hot, conditions reduced yields, with up to 30% less fruit at some addresses – and a crop of small, thick-skinned berries Rich yet vibrant, the wines are set to age very well A vintage to rival 2013, 2018 and 2019 in quality Explore all Napa 2021 listings, all Napa listings or read more Editorial

Napa’s producers have already started releasing their 2021s – and more will be hitting the market in the coming months. The vintage is one that allowed producers to breathe – and produced some stunning wines, as Rachael Ryan – Senior Buyer at Vinfolio, our US arm – discovers

Diving into the 2021 vintage in the Napa Valley and its rich, fresh wines, with Dalla Valle, Opus One, Philip Togni, Andy Erickson and more

Napa 2021 vintage report

Napa 2021: rich, fresh and a relief

Inspiration often strikes at unexpected moments. For Salvino Benanti, owner of the eponymous winery, it was late at night in his office at a London investment bank, when he overheard his boss on a phone call, apologising to his wife for not being home. “I heard him say, ‘Imagine one day, if this all works out, we’ll retire and move to the Mediterranean.’” Salvino recalls this moment, which became a turning point in his life: “I suddenly thought, well I could do that tomorrow.”   Salvino’s late father was Dr Giuseppe Benanti, a former pharmaceutical company owner, who himself also once pivoted mid-career to return to his small Sicilian hometown to make wine and is today widely credited with launching a winemaking renaissance in Etna that has propelled the tiny region from relative anonymity to international recognition and acclaim.  Although wine has been produced across Sicily for centuries, the area around Mount Etna where the Benanti family is from had fallen into obscurity by the 19th century, with many poorly maintained or abandoned vineyards and virtually no commercial wine production. In the early 1980s, however, Giuseppe embarked upon a decade-long research project, where he methodically studied the soil types, local indigenous grapes and microclimates. In a very short time, he came to realise the potential of his birthplace. Giuseppe hired a local oenologist named Salvo Foti in 1988, and the two joined forces to make wine. He found in Foti an equal level of passion, drive and belief in the potential of Etna. Together they crafted the first release of Benanti wine from the Etna DOC in 1990, neither likely realising that they had sparked the resurgence of a neglected wine region.  
Shaped like a backwards crescent, the DOC of Etna is anchored of course by Mount Etna, an active stratovolcano that rises nearly 11,000 feet above sea-level. Mount Etna towers over the eastern side of Sicily, breaking the skyline in dramatic fashion and creating a wine region that is distinct not only within Sicily, but the wine world at large.  Generations of eruptions have altered the soil content, creating a patchwork of soil types around the peak. The high elevation provides respite from the hot climate of lower-lying Sicily, and the vineyards on the north side are protected from the hot Sirocco wind blowing from the south. Mount Etna remains one of the world’s most active volcanoes, with eruptions, ash clouds and lava flows nearly every year, albeit very slowly and in a predictable direction, away from villages and vineyards.   Only a few decades ago, the most well-known grape in Sicily was Nero d’Avola. Often made in an accessible, full-bodied and bold style, Nero d’Avola was easy to grow, and easy to love. Frequently blended with international varieties to add colour and weight, it quickly became an international hit. Many assume the southerly latitude relegates Sicily to only wines like Nero d’Avola – dark and dense. Mount Etna tosses this logic out the window, however.   The rocky, steep vineyards of Etna have always been planted mainly to three indigenous varieties: the red grapes Nerello Mascalese and Nerello Cappuccio, and the white grape Carricante. Nerello Mascalese produces wines that are light in colour, with elevated tannins providing ample structure. The wines can be ethereal, and much like Nebbiolo and Pinot Noir, have a remarkable transparency that allows the specific location to imbue itself into the wine, with even neighbouring plots expressing themselves quite differently. With sour cherry and wild red plum notes, as well as faint tobacco, someone tasting Nerello Mascalese blind for the first time might be excused for thinking the wine was perhaps a gentler style of Nebbiolo, or alternatively a more grippy, savoury style of Pinot Noir. In many ways the variety captures the best of both. Yet, until recently, Nerello Mascalese was obscure. “It was considered to be a bulk wine. People didn’t know it that well, so we weren’t noticed at first,” Salvino explains.   Nerello Cappuccio, with its darker colour and softer tannins, has often been used as a blending partner for Nerello Mascalese, making it more approachable, though for many producers, it has fallen out of fashion as Nerello Mascalese ascends the ladder of critical opinion. Carricante, on the other hand, is a high-acid grape, with intense minerality and a slightly saline character. Described by Ian d’Agata as “potentially one of Italy’s greatest cultivars, white or red”, Carricante can thrive at high elevations and develops fascinating, almost Riesling-like petrol aromas with age.  While some viticultural generalities are true across the region – trace elements such as iron and phosphorous are uniformly high across the DOC, for example – the soils are surprisingly varied between contradas (a delineated local municipality of sorts, often borrowed by winemakers in Etna to signify which part of the DOC their wine hails from), of which there are 142. Even a change of a few hundred feet in elevation can mean a difference in depth of soil as well as soil structure.  Although to outsiders, living next door to an active volcano might seem to be a risky proposition, Salvino, like most Sicilians, doesn’t seem to be overly concerned.  The ash that often floats down from the volcano is not necessarily a bad thing, he explains, unlike the ash from wildfires. While ash from burnt wood and vegetation is highly acrid and easily taints wine with a bitter aftertaste, volcanic ash, on the other hand, is odourless and tasteless. When it falls in Etna, it hardens into flakes of pumice, Salvino explains, which crunch underfoot like breakfast cereal, but soon break down into a much finer, sandy texture, as it becomes part of the soil and terroir.  After 25 years at the helm of his winery, Giuseppe passed the torch to Salvino and his twin brother Antonio in 2012, giving them full ownership. The brothers, in many ways, led parallel lives. Born in Sicily, the two were educated abroad, and both worked as bankers in London. And, most fortunately, both were of a similar mindset when it came to the family winery. Having felt they had achieved enough in their careers, Salvino and Antonio came to a mutual decision to move back to Sicily – the lightbulb moment Salvino experienced in his office was a sentiment shared by his brother.   By the time they took over, Etna was fully on the radar of wine enthusiasts around the world, who were intrigued by the prospect of mineral-driven wines made on the side of an active volcano. The beginning was not easy, however, Salvino says, as their father was forced to step back and let his sons build their own path together. “We had a lot of confrontation and debate. My father was stubborn, and wouldn’t listen to anyone, but we had the final word. He became a loud advisor with no power,” Salvino laughingly remembers. They made tough decisions, including selling off a few vineyards and reducing the number of wines produced. “We were a bit ruthless,” he admits.  Today, the brothers act as co-general managers, overseeing the production of 250,000 bottles of wine per year, all made from the three indigenous varieties, coming from five distinct contradas in the DOC. Their white wines are made from 100% Carricante, vinified in stainless steel and never aged in oak, while the red wines are either mono-varietal, or comprised of Nerello Mascalese blended with a small amount of Nerello Cappuccio. They avoid new oak in the winery, choosing instead to age in neutral vessels where “the elegance expresses itself quite freely”, Salvino explains.  When people think of Sicily, they think of opulence, richness and power. “This is not correct,” Salvino emphasises. Though only 5% of Sicily’s wine production comes from Etna, the wines could not be more different than the rest of the island – and southern Italy for that matter. “We are about elegance, leanness, and cellar-worthiness,” he explains.  Salvino elaborates on the distinct shift in style since he and his brother assumed control. He explains that in the early days of the winery, more oak was employed and the wines were more forward. “In the 1980s, no one knew or cared about Etna, so I think my father was trying to capture the world’s attention, maybe trying to connect with Nero d’Avola drinkers.” When Salvino and Antonio took over, however, they were open-minded and “free from prejudice”: “We didn’t have a pre-formed view of anything,” he says. This allowed them to examine the wines with fresh eyes, and rather than try to emulate another region or variety’s style, they made the decision to allow the grapes and soil of Etna to speak for themselves. “We realised that what the world wanted from Etna was more pureness.” And this is something they continue to strive for. “We would like more purity, more elegance, more finesse, always,” Salvino emphasises.    In less than 40 years, the spark that Giueseppe Benanti provided ignited a revolution, one that his sons – along with a host of other winegrowers and winemakers on the island – carry on today.  Salvino feels that there is now a clear Etna identity, supported by many up-and-coming younger producers. From only a few decades ago, when his father was introducing the wines of Etna to the world, there are now over 440 producers within the Etna DOC. The appellation, however, remains a niche even within Italy, producing only 5.8 million bottles per year, making it smaller than Barolo.   And this next generation of winemakers continues to push forward. The producers in Etna recently voted unanimously to apply for DOCG status, a process which can take up to 24 months to get approval, though it seems inevitable given their region’s sharp upward trajectory. Some rules will become more stringent, such as lower mandated yields and longer ageing requirements – as Salvino puts it, “We will be forced to go down a more difficult route” – but ultimately this will only help to continue to uplift the quality of the wines and their reputation. 

The delicate, smoky and saline wines of Etna have rapidly become some of Italy’s most famous – but the region’s renaissance is recent. Rachael Ryan – Senior Buyer at Vinfolio, our US arm – sat down with Salvino Benanti, whose father was one of Etna’s pioneers

Etna’s wines have rapidly become some of Italy’s most famous – but the region’s renaissance is recent. We sat down with Benanti, one of Etna’s vinous pioneers

Establishing Etna – Benanti’s pioneering wines

Establishing Etna: Benanti

Ch. Cheval Blanc is one of the finest producers in Bordeaux. The Saint-Emilion estate’s Cabernet Franc-dominant blends are consistently among the top wines of any vintage and under the tenure of Pierre-Olivier Clouet, the wines are only getting better. Listening to how Clouet talks about the property, the experiments, the confidence to talk about mistakes as much as successes, goes a long way in understanding why. This is someone who eats, drinks and sleeps Cheval Blanc – obsessively looking to better the wine. Cheval Blanc’s other Saint-Emilion property, Ch. Quinault l’Enclos has become an important test bed for developments at Cheval Blanc, and means the estate has seen a huge amount of investment over the last few years. Clouet accepts it is a “simpler” terroir compared to its sibling, but that challenge has pushed the team to explore the effects of terroir and varieties at a micro level. Since taking over the estate in 2008, Clouet felt that Quinault l’Enclos struggled to reach the standards he expected. Between 2009 and 2011, he admits their results were so-so. By 2012 they felt they had captured more freshness and balance in the wine, but they still didn’t have the density they felt the terroir was capable of producing.  Clouet knows they can’t simply make another Cheval Blanc at Quinault l’Enclos. Cabernet Franc, for instance (the backbone of Cheval Blanc), is a “fussy grape”, says Clouet, and just doesn’t work on the sandy/gravel terroir at Quinault. “The terroir also doesn’t have the clay soils that can help polish the mid-palate, and the tannins can become too rustic if we extract too much,” he explains. It is a fine balancing act and, while Merlot dominates in this terroir, they are finding success planting more Cabernet Sauvignon. Tasting the 2018 Quinault l’Enclos, the wine has the restrained touch synonymous with Cheval Blanc – something that is even more notable given the hot vintage. The fruit is firmly in the purple and blue spectrum and lovely violet, floral aromatic notes add complexity. The tannins are compact and impressively refined, and Clouet is clearly happy that in their 10th vintage at the estate, they have found the elegance and mid-palate density they have long been searching for. Alongside Quinault and the Grand Vin at Cheval Blanc, there is also the estate’s little-seen second wine, Le Petit Cheval. Clouet is keen to emphasise that Le Petit Cheval is purely a second wine: “It is made simply to make Cheval Blanc better.” It is the vintage that dictates how much Petit Cheval is made. In 2015 and 2022, for example, there was no Petit Cheval as the quality was so consistent it all went in the Grand Vin. Typically, Le Petit Cheval represents just 10% of the estate’s production, while 15% is typically sold off in bulk – mainly press wine, none of which is ever used in the Grand Vin. The Grand Vin, therefore, typically represents around 75% of production. In 2020 the blend for Petit Cheval was, unusually, 59% Cabernet Franc. It was a challenging vintage for the variety and less therefore went into the Grand Vin. For Clouet, 2020 was not as good as 2018 or 2019, and the growing season was not as conducive to good Cabernet Franc. Despite Clouet’s criticism of the vintage (“over maturity on the nose and underripe on the palate”), the 2020 Petit Cheval is a great wine. Notable power combines with big tannins and just a tiny hint of rusticity, but it has the refined touch of Cheval, a lovely, earthy, savoury quality and a long finish. Located in northwest Saint-Emilion, on the border with Pomerol, Ch. Cheval Blanc neighbours a number of high-profile estates, including Ch. Figeac to the south, and Pétrus and Vieux Château Certan in Pomerol. Its position between Pomerol and Saint-Emilion (while not on its limestone plateau) makes it a unique site in the appellation. Of the estate’s 39 hectares there is also tremendous variation in terroir. It is divided into 53 plots across 10 different soil types – clay, sand and gravel in varying proportions. For Clouet, it is this diversity that defines it. Many of the key components of the winemaking process have not changed since 1832, insists Clouet, however technology has allowed the team to increase the precision and purity of each bottle. “It’s the same picture, but with more pixels; we’re simply increasing the resolution of the wine,” Clouet explains. These days there is meticulous care and attention to detail at every stage of production, from the vineyard to picking each plot when the grapes are precisely “al dente”, right through to bottling.  Tasting through benchmark vintages underlines the success of this fine-tuning and the underlying style of the property. The 2018 is one of the great wines of the estate. Even in its infancy, the wine has incredible depth and a breath-taking density of tannins that are already seamlessly integrated – quickly followed by a surge of energy and an overriding freshness on the finish that gets the blood pulsing. Clouet describes Cheval Blanc as being shy at first, accelerating on the mid-palate – and that certainly comes through in the 2018, with a lovely lift on the finish. There is so much detail to the fruit with plenty of rich, concentrated black and red fruit flavours along with liquorice and menthol notes from the Cabernet Franc. The purity is outstanding and is hard to fault. Now with eight years in bottle, the 2015 is starting to reveal its quality, with the first hint of development beginning to show with lightly medicinal notes, beautifully delicately smoked oak tones and lifted floral violet aromas. The tannins again are seamless, yet dense. There is an unctuosity and fatness to the 2015 on the mid-palate, yet it is so fresh for the vintage. This is juicy and rich but with graphite mineral notes too. The density and detail is extraordinary. And the signature rush of energy and overriding freshness on the long finish is there. Although the 2012 Cheval Blanc doesn’t have the power or the intensity of the 2015, it is no less arresting. It is full of energy and has developed fresh tobacco notes and leather tones. The mid-palate remains really juicy, rich and pure. The tannins are again totally integrated with a mineral, minty note on the finish that has the Cheval Blanc lift. Finally, the 2009 – a wine that has legendary status among collectors: it is an incredible wine to taste, but noticeably different to the 2012, 2015 and 2018. The oak treatment and extraction is different and quite clear when tasted side by side. There is a touch more chalkiness to the tannins – not as seamless as the modern vintages – and they are more drying on the finish. Clouet notes that they certainly extracted more back then and the oak tannins are also more present, as is the toasting of the oak which has also been reduced in recent years. The power, freshness and energy is classic Cheval Blanc, but the refinement of the modern vintages shows that even at this level of quality there is room for improvement. There are few vignerons with such a meticulous approach to winemaking as Pierre-Olivier Clouet, whose fearless experimentation with one of Bordeaux’s most iconic wines has taken Cheval Blanc to new heights. It is only by tasting the wines side by side that you can really experience how this wine has developed over the last 15 years or so. It is a trend that mirrors much of what is happening in Bordeaux, with less extraction and more subtle oak, but few vignerons have discovered their magic recipe quite so astutely as Clouet at Cheval Blanc. Read more about Bordeaux, find out more about our events or browse all listings from Cheval Blanc

Under the direction of Technical Director Pierre-Olivier Clouet, Ch. Cheval Blanc has reached new levels of precision. Tasting through a selection of benchmark vintages with the man himself, we explore how the top Saint-Emilion estate is managing to further refine its impressive wines

Exploring the evolution of Chateau Cheval Blanc – the top Saint-Emilion wine estate – under the direction of Pierre-Olivier Clouet via a vertical tasting

Fine-tuning perfection at Cheval Blanc

Cheval Blanc: fine-tuning perfection

The journey began on a foggy Friday morning, in an Uber crawling though San Francisco traffic, followed by one very long flight, then a more civilized two-hour train journey to Bordeaux. It would be my first time visiting the storied region, as I arrived to join the FINE+RARE team for en primeur week. With appointments booked on both the Left and Right Banks, as well as a full dance card of lunches and dinners, I was looking forward to seeing the spectacle firsthand. Why travel so far, after all? I’d wondered this myself more than once. From the outside, “Primeurs” week can seem like an antiquated relic of the past, as merchants, brokers and media from around the world descend upon Bordeaux during the last week of April to sample the previous year’s vintage while it is still in barrel. First scores are handed out by critics, and the wine trade prepares to offer these wines to their clients in the weeks and months following as futures, not to be released from the châteaux’s cellars for another two years.  We were prepared. Armed with new notebooks and fresh palates, we were chauffeured around the region by Benoît, our driver extraordinaire. With so many visits booked – over 50 in just five days – maintaining an orderly and very punctual schedule would be of the utmost importance. We all came to love Benoît, who was quick to remind us of travel times, but more importantly, offer a much-needed roadside pâtisserie pitstop. I was told that this year marked a return to normal for the châteaux, after several pandemic years that kept many home. The châteaux were bustling, with a steady stream of visitors entering and exiting at nearly every property we visited. With handshakes, hugs and kisses all around, the sense of joy and excitement to be around other wine enthusiasts was palpable. Though the skies were cloudy and rain showers dotted the week, the smiles and laughter were a wonderful contrast. Though I think Bordeaux is often thought of as a stuffy place, where voices are kept to a low whisper and only very serious wine tasting occurs, I was taken by the diversity of the region, as well as the tasting experiences themselves. To be sure, many of the châteaux are grand, but we spent an equal amount of time in smaller wineries tasting out of barrel in chilly cellars, as well as walking through the vineyards to see the baby leaves of 2023 unfurling.  While of course Primeurs is a first look at the vintage – an opportunity to test hypothetical opinions based on weather and early conversations  – it is also a chance, perhaps most importantly, to meet the people behind the wines. From grand estates with sweeping views of the countryside, to humble family-owned properties carving out their own piece of the historical region, Bordeaux cannot be boxed into a tidy generality. The one commonality, however, was the enthusiasm and excitement for the vintage. Descriptions repeated throughout the week (from both our team and the vignerons we visited) – were “surprising”, “unexpected” and, perhaps most often, “unique”. While many in the wine trade may be quick to draw parallels between 2022 and other warm, generous vintages such as 2003, comparisons were made to 1945, 1947, 1949, 1961, 1982 and other legendary years – but more often than not we heard the opinion that 2022 is a year that will stand alone.  The vintage was bound to be remarkable in some way: the hottest year on record in Bordeaux, marked by four heat spikes, as well as drought during the growing season. After years of discussion concerning the increasingly extreme weather, it would seem that the test had finally arrived: could Bordeaux cope with climate change? While I think we’re all still mulling over our tasting notes, and double brushing our purple teeth, truly, the wines were a pleasure to taste: uniform ripeness and density of juicy fruit, balanced and braced by fresh acidity, all while remaining true to the character of Bordeaux. The initial results of what many thought would be a nail-biting vintage are very promising indeed. We will publish our full thoughts on the vintage and wines in the coming weeks, but one thing’s for sure: 2022 will be a vintage that will be remarked upon for decades to come.  Keep an eye out for our full vintage report – coming soon

This week saw our team touch down in Bordeaux for Primeurs – the unveiling of the 2022 vintage en primeur. Rachael Ryan – Senior Buyer at Vinfolio, our US arm – reports on her first experience of the region, the week and a year that shows remarkable promise

As Bordeaux’s top chateaux unveil the latest vintage en primeur, we report on a week spent touring the region and tasting the 2022 wines from barrel

Bordeaux 2022 – notes from the road

Bordeaux 2022: notes from the road

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

Reyane et Pascal Bouley

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Reyane et Pascal Bouley

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