the drinking scenario

Hello,

it’s 18°C in Paris and some week-ends should never end.

I love sheep. Sheep are awesome. You can count them when you’re having trouble sleeping, you can wear them when you’re cold, you can eat their babies and you can even buy an awesome mobile of them.

Sheep are soft, they make funny noises, they’re gentle and dumb, they can walk in circles after one another for hours, they come in a bunch of colors and sizes, and they make my day whenever I come across them in the country side.

Enough with the sheep already.

Yesterday I went to see the Diane Arbus exhibit at the Jeu de Paume. I had seen a condensed version of it at the Modern Tate in July which had really impressed me, so seeing 200 selected photographs of mid 20th century mostly outcast America was quite the treat on a chilly autumn afternoon. It’s easy to see why her work has shocked and until today is at the center of many a heated discussion. Humanity? Exploitation? Self-expression through others’ misery? Unhealthy esthetics? Voyeurism? I’m not going to attempt at writing an analytical essay on Arbus’ work, that’s not why y’all hang out here anyway. But… it did make me realise I want to attempt at making pictures of people more often. And… that there’s something about the unusual, the freaky, the weird, that really isn’t so much so. The life, the truth, that’s in those pictures, that’s what struck me, that’s what stays.

What will stay with me from tasting Marks and Sparks’ Chardonnay Lost Sheep when in London last week-end, is not a mind-blowing experience. No fantastic aromas, no deep personality, no. But, a good little wine, nice and crisp, proper, drunk with loved ones, at the end of a week-end of sun and biking and Pimm’s and Roka.

Goes to show that once again pleasure isn’t always about drinking the finest wines and eating the finest foods. It’s really about being with the finest people.

Winely yours,

Judith S.