Get Me To The Church On Time

This isn't going to be my first marriage. I'm no Liz Taylor but I never expected to marry a second time. Well, that's not exactly truthful. I never expected to marry a man 13 years younger, who plays guitar, writes and sings his own music, rides a Harley, only weighs 35 lbs. more than I do, grows/shaves/regrows a beard as if it's a fashion accessory, and who proudly announces to our waiter that's he's the "mayor" of their restaurant while he "checks in" via Foursquare. Nope. I thought I was marrying The Old One.

In the last 16 months everything I ever thought about getting married (again) has changed. Jeff gives new meaning to the word "life" because his thirst for it is contagious and unquenchable. He delights in every nuance, responds with passion, and has an awe inspiring way of attracting what he wants because he's without guile or malice. Although I know he's been affected by some of the circumstances he's weathered, there remains an unflagging belief in goodness. When he swept into my life in October of 2009 he did so with absolute trust. I marvel at that ability! He helped me wipe the tape clean of "shoulds and shouldn'ts" and replaced it with "let's go!"

With that joy has come the decision to reject the norm and have a wedding ceremony that reflects us. We're funny together, goofier in private, and want to do something that we'll remember long after the last rose petal is swept away. So? We're going to elope. To Vegas. Yes, we're embracing the cliche with total abandon. Elvis Chapel? Why not? Wedding dress? Definitely NOT! Church? Chicken dance? Nope, nope. Laughter? Absolutely! And just the two of us. Oh yeah, and those two beauties I birthed almost a quarter century ago, in their matching J. Crew bridesmaids dresses. I've never been so excited in my life. Can I wear jeans? 

So, how does this tie into our wine store? This blog is supposed to be at least partially about the wine business, isn't it? In a nutshell, if I hadn't allowed myself to be open to someone so innately curious and willing to be my partner, I'd never have been able to get this store opened. I'd been on the fence for well over 3 years about whether I wanted to be a store owner, a wine bar owner, a sommelier, or back in the fashion biz. Meeting Jeff gave me the impetus to shed some long standing beliefs and get going. He taught me that a partner is about more than just business.

In that sense, SG&G is a reflection of our two personalities, much the same way our wedding day will be. It's thoughtful and fun, serious yet goofy, and in our opinion, not like everyone else. The store captures the essence of how seriously we feel about wine yet also how much we try to bring the "fun" to selling. The shelves reflect the dichotomy of our two personalities as well as the proof that we are partners in every way. To me, then, it makes perfect sense that we take our vows in Vegas, proving how passionately we feel about getting married and also how we plan to spend the rest of our lives having fun together. Only question is whether we should let the young Elvis marry us or the older version? I do love a man in a jumpsuit.

(I apologize in advance to those reading of our elopement on this blog. There will be a big party when we return. We promise.)

Pour. Taste. Drink.

Sunday Sales

Sunday Sales in Connecticut. This topic has been covered to death by many of my fellow retailers. I've been quoted anonymously, interviewed publicly, and debated with everyone who asks me my opinion. Recently I was asked if I would put together a list of talking points, using the CT Liquor Control regulations, that could hopefully open up more dialogue in support of changing the laws comprehensively. Sunday sales, in my opinion, are but one small facet of what this state needs to improve retail package store sales for everyone.


As I've been reading the various opinions put out there by my friends and colleagues I'm sensitive to their feelings. I think it's human nature to build a platform and stand on it, dismissing "change" without ever trying to adapt or test it out. What if? There's an aspect to Sunday sales that requires a leap of faith as well as a fearless attitude. Scheduling changes, potential new hires, less time spent with family, no designated day off..... clearly this latest proposal cuts a swath directly down the middle between large stores and small. However, I've yet to really be convinced that allowing us to all be open 7 days a week will truly kill the "little guy's" business. It's a potential pain in the ass, yes, but is it a death sentence for the Mom & Pops? There's no way to predict. 


I'm wondering, if there was a more comprehensive and thoughtful revamping of the laws in their entirety, maybe being open on Sunday wouldn't feel like such a burden? The entire section 30-6-B21a regarding "tastings" could use some expansion and a kick into the 21st century. While it's perfectly acceptable to do business with charitable organizations off-premise, provided you apply for a permit to do so 10 days prior to the event, why couldn't the same rules apply on-premise? Jeff and I have been asked almost every day since we've opened if we can rent out our space for a) private parties, b) wine classes to be held by us, c) charitable fundraisers, and even recently, Spin Odyssey. The looks of dismay on people's faces when we say we aren't allowed to do these things makes any explanation sound hollow. If Liquor Control was to employ a similar application formula, package stores could host parties on premise, or rent out the premises, or hold classes. The revenues that would be generated from the liquor sales would be a tremendous boost to our state and our business.


The same can be said for the serving of food. I don't want to be a restaurant but I'd love to be able to serve a little nibble, for free, to the patrons of our store. Many of us do weekly wine tastings that bring together friends and customers. It would be advantageous to put out a little bread and cheese to compliment the wines as well as generate dialogue. More dialogue plus more tasting plus food/wine pairing equals greater sales and more revenue for the state. Again, this seems simple to me. Customers aren't as concerned with shopping on Sunday as they are in engaging with their neighborhood stores and building relationships. We all want to learn, socialize/gather, if even for a minute, in order to connect with each other. There's no possible way that the retailers are the only ones who get this idea, yet it feels that way when you examine the Band-Aid the state wants to use to deal with their own deficits.


Lastly, can we please lower the cost of registering a label in Connecticut? We can't get our hands on a tremendous amount of incredible wine because the prohibitive cost of doing business here gives New York State the advantage. As far as I'm concerned, people go to New York on Sunday, in part, to buy the wines that we can't get here. Take the train to NYC any given Sunday and weep at what our distributors sell there. Rosenthal. Skurnik. Winebow. Martin Scott. With some time investment and a look at the big picture I'm sure our state legislators can come up with a more tightly focused, forward thinking amendment to the current liquor regulations.


In the meantime, I think we all continue to try and think as much outside the box as we can. This not an eloquent blog nor am I saying anything that hasn't been said before. I suppose I'm feeling like I've dumbed it all down too much. But, I've been writing this for 5 hours and I still come back to the same thing, wine selling today is different than it was years ago. If the rest of the world is growing and modernizing then so should we. There are some creative, interesting and financially rewarding ways to reinvent this wheel. Let's work together to make it happen. 


Cheers. 

Surrendering Control- A Love Story.

I'm fairly certain that the term "surrendering control" is somehow the world's worst oxymoron. How does one surrender control when you're never in control in the first place? It's an illusion. It doesn't exist! I only know this now, yet for years I spent hours in a therapist's office trying to strike a balance, or is that a bargain? Perhaps I can just surrender partial control? Maybe it can be like a diet? I eat nothing all week and then splurge on the weekends? This all made my therapist a boatload of money but he didn't ever have the decency to tell me I couldn't actually achieve this "goal."


Yesterday, I finally surrendered control. I did. I surrendered, as in threw my hands up in the air and said, "enough," and I gave my control to someone else. Actually, what I really did was ALLOW someone else, Jeff, to have a chance to participate. That's probably the true meaning of surrendering control. I allowed someone else in my life to help me. I allowed someone else in my life to join in as a member of the team. I realized that the only thing I can control are the choices I make to quit doing the same things over and over again expecting a different result. I also recognized that the padded room wasn't going to hold all my furniture (and the six cats). I also don't want to live there by myself


As I've written before, Jeff and I have been working through the growing pains of opening this business together. I give Jhim tremendous credit. He's been a good sport, watching me "control" everything and knowing that this also meant a lack of trust on some level. I can't speak for him, but if "control" has personal meaning to me it means simply, I don't think you can do it as well as I can and I don't trust you enough to find out. 


Therefore, I don't think there are appropriate enough words in the English language to describe how I felt yesterday. I was standing in my office, OUR office, and it was this one split second of clarity where I thought to myself, What am I doing? My fiance is sitting at my desk, trying to balance the bank account, and I'm in a cold sweat that this means he wants to take over, he wants to take control! He wants to take away my job! He thinks I'm out of control! I'm not kidding. All of these thoughts were flying through my head because Jeff wanted one thing, to be included. To participate. To be my partner. To be trusted. At that moment I knew it was surrender or face losing everything.


So, I did. I'd like to say that this wonderful feeling of calm came over me. I'd love to sum this up in that mostly irritating way authors do when you read one of their self help books. I had an epiphany and I'm healed! You too can find peace if you follow these five easy steps. Just send $9.99 in a self-addressed stamped envelope and your enlightenment should arrive in 7-10 business days. Operators are standing by should you need immediate assistance. 


In truth, I'm feeling a little agitated. However, for the first time in my life I'm letting someone into my whole life, and there's a sense of excitement attached to that as well. I admit, I do hover over Jeff when he's at my desk, and ask what he's doing each time he opens the drawer to write a check, look for an invoice or enter something in Quickbooks. Actually, hover isn't quite accurate. It's a bit more like crowding and the questions definitely have a "tone of voice" to go along with their seeming innocence. However, my intentions are genuine and Jeff is worth it. Honey, just please don't give control back now that I've surrendered it to you. I've waved the white flag for the last time.


Love, Mimi. 

A New Year. A New Lesson

Once upon a time I was wealthy. My father, a savvy investor, took very good care of his three children. From very little he made "very lot", not only for us but for my mother, his sister and his own parents. I don't have much left to show for it. Writing this sentence is very difficult for me, as it brings forth the ways in which I have failed to be a good steward of this gift I was given. It also unleashes the pain of never asking for help when I needed it, of failing to recognize how deeply sad I was, of trusting no one and of creating the reputation that I'm financially irresponsible. I will never recover the money but I hope I will recover my ability to not feel like a failure at times.

How does this relate to my wine store? Well, it directly relates to not having the means to feed my baby, who is a bit hungry right now. Three months ago when we opened I did so with exactly the amount I needed to fill the shelves somewhat, pay my contractor, buy some fixtures and satisfy my landlord's security requirements. I had no reserves. The store was born a 12 pounder and it gobbled up everything in sight. I think Jeff and I were both shocked at the pace at which our baby moved and some days it was all we could do to keep up. Clearly, there is another lesson here but that's for another blog. 

This business is unlike others I've been in because of the sheer precision at which you have to price your inventory and move it. Unlike fashion, with large margins, this one demands constant supervision and tweaking in order to maintain your gross profit. Volume is key and as a new business, chasing back long defected customers, there is no room for lack of funds nor lack of focus. If I still had my own money I wouldn't be worried about the one sentence that puts fear in all retailer's hearts, "Don't get posted." This is akin to saying, "Don't forget to lock your doors at night," because all it takes is one late payment and your feelings of violation will be severe. And you're also pretty certain the bad guy is hiding under your bed (with the Bogey Man) waiting to jump out and scare you again.

So, as I begin 2011, I'm feeling the lessons of my life weighing on me. I love this store and I love this business. I believe we're more than on the right path to success. But how do I find the means to pull myself to the next level when I've made my financial bed? It's amazing how powerless I feel without the safety of money in the bank to carry me through the lean moments. I have much to be grateful for, especially my father's unwavering belief in me despite reasons for him to feel cautious. I strive to reclaim my feeling of financial independence and adult-ness on those darker days when what I want is to suck my thumb and hide under the covers. I will get there gradually but right now what I wouldn't give for a good night's sleep and a visit from a very flush Tooth Fairy.

Holiday Madness

I think we've all cried at least once in the last couple of weeks. Sometimes from joy, but often from frustration and exhaustion. The breaking in period here has definitely taken its toll on each of us at one point or another. I say this as a statement of fact, not as a complaint. We're barely 10 weeks old and the growing pains have been ongoing and persistent. There's no question that we all want to "get it right" with each and every customer and put this store on the map.

One of the most difficult aspects to ignore right now is the busy-ness of our fellow friends in the business. Most of them have years on us but we compare, even if silently, whether we are standing up to what they're doing. I'll admit, I'm the worst. I won't even try to put it on Jeff or Donald. I make myself crazy with worry when we don't have a sensational day, especially now. I'm honest, however, so I can say this without embarrassment. I'm proud of my friends and their success even as I'm impatient for ours. I think I blogged about this before, but allowing things to unfold naturally is not one of my stronger traits. I'm more of the smash-it-through-the-smallest-opening-and-make-it-fit kinda girl.


In our location, which everyone seems to deem a "goldmine", we have a distinct traffic and shopping pattern. Unlike other stores located along the Post Road, we're at the Westport train station. This "goldmine" doesn't conform to any rules, and frankly, when called by that name, my reaction is to quickly cross myself and say 20 Hail Mary's. The store has a rhythm all its own, one I can't seem to alter. Yet. This is why when my other friends are "getting slammed" for Christmas, we're forced to bend to the cadence of what this location provides thus far. It may one day be a "goldmine" but for now it's firmly, and not so effortlessly, showing us what it's used to being: a commuter's store, and one that's history makes it almost curmudgeonly.


So, at the risk of sounding like Scrooge, let me clarify that I feel very blessed to have this opportunity. Jeff, Donald and I are working hard to turn around the prior damage and we feel confident this will happen. I believe this blog, in many ways, however, is more a metaphor for my life, as well as a lesson. You can't read this without discovering something about me, typically a struggle I'm having, and it's usually rooted in my past. Unlearning deeply ingrained behaviors is probably one of the hardest tasks to undertake. The rewards are tremendous but the grueling step-by-step process is like losing those last ten pounds. Arduous.


I wish everyone the happiest of holidays. Hug your family. Say I love you. Be kind to your fellow travelers.


Peace.

How We Met

Jeff and I have set a wedding date, May 22, 2011. I can't tell you what kind of anxiety this creates, as well as, anticipation and excitement. Marriage. Again for me. For the first time for him. For the last time for both of us, God willing. If the 15 months are any indication, I think we're going to be more than fine. 


My daughters are very excited. I think the idea of wearing a J. Crew bridesmaid's dress to their own mother's wedding fulfills a couple different fantasies. One, they're the Maids of Honor for me, and two, it's J.Crew Bridal. What can I say? Caitlin tells me this makes her happy on many levels. Personally, what would make me happy would be wearing jeans and a leather jacket but I'm pretty confident that won't fly. I can tell you with certainty, though, that my dress, should I wear one, will not be white. Anyone who knows me knows I wear only one color. Would that be too maudlin? Black on my wedding day? Sarah Jessica Parker wore black. I'd still be smiling, and probably bigger than ever. Black is slimming. White requires more make up and anyone who's seen me in my sister's wedding pictures knows that pale colors and tons of make up are not a good combo for me.


Since this is a blog about wine, for the most part, I thought I'd tell you how Jeff and I met. I was working for Bill Taibe at leFarm, helping the restaurant open and creating a wine list with the team. The restaurant is small and we were wearing all the hats initially. I was hostess, sommelier, busgirl, server, whatever there was to do. It was the most fun I've ever had in my life and the best job I've ever had, to date. Bill is an amazing boss and an even more talented chef. So, we were hopping to it nightly.


Jeff was working for a local distributor and one day he dropped by leFarm with another rep. They were trying to sell wines from Virginia. Since they didn't have an appointment I wasn't too interested in sitting down with them but two things made it happen. One, I recognized Jeff from Facebook, and two, the wines he was trying to sell were from Kluge Estate. I knew about the Kluge family so the idea that Patricia was making wine was intriguing. Jeff and I didn't really exchange much dialogue, and I don't remember the wines at all, but there was a little flutter in my belly and I knew something had just occurred between us.


Later on we both called our mutual friend, Darcy, to find out about each other. I had an instant crush, and evidently, so did Jeff. What ensued is straight out of the high school handbook of trying to be cool and feeling anything but. "What did he say about me?" "Is he interested?" It didn't take too long for Jeff to find excuses to come bring me samples, usually of beer, which interested me only slightly more than his wines, but he would appear. I was getting shit from my co-workers and I didn't care. Fate had played its hand and it was just a matter of time until we connected. And we did. And it was amazing. And it continues to be an incredibly growing relationship on every level. Jeff asked me to marry him in December of 2009 on a rainy night in Rhode Island. He got down on bended knee and tied a twisty-tie around my finger. Signed, sealed, delivered! I'm yours!


As we head into our first holiday season at Saugatuck Grain & Grape, we're very grateful. We've had an incredibly exciting (rhymes with stressful) year and we wish you and all your friends and family a happy, healthy new year.

Pinot Noir: Handle With Care

I worship at the altar of Pinot Noir. Everyone knows this about me. Of course, our relationship isn't that old. It's just very intense, in a Romeo and Juliet kind of way, without the death and suicide. Pinot Noir and I only became friends (again) in 2004, but since that time we've seen the friendship grow tremendously.

My father is a Burghound. When I was growing up he traveled to France every summer with his three best friends. He would come home with fabulous presents for all of us (bonus!) and a tremendous amount of wine. When I wasn't drinking beer, I was drinking my father's amazing Pinots: Romanee Conti, La Tache, Grands Echezeaux, Bonnes Mares, Gevrey Chambertin....etc. I remember how exciting it was to watch him uncork and decant the wine each night, and I especially enjoyed going into the cellar with him to pick out a bottle together. I was hooked from my early teens.

Starting in 1988 migraines sidetracked me for many years, forcing me to be a non-drinker, for the most part. If I did drink, it was Rolling Rock. Yes, I see all your eyes rolling. It is what it is! I can't help it. I love bad beer. Just ask Jeff.

Anyhow, once the passion for Pinot Noir was reawakened in 2004, I was back with a vengeance. My father was aghast! I'd been reborn as a California Pinot lover! I think the word he used to describe me was dilettante. California Pinot? Are you kidding me? I raised you on the finest Burgundies and you re-emerge as a New World Pinot drinker who likes too much oak, too much alcohol and a fruit bomb that explodes like an overripe berry in your face? I have failed as a father.....or something along those lines. I just giggled. In my mind it would become my mission to get him to like just ONE Pinot from Cali. I can happily say I've been successful in my efforts. It doesn't happen often, but it happens.

In the last 6 years my palate has obviously evolved. Yes, I'll admit, sometimes I'm a sucker for a big Pinot, like Sine Qua Non, Aubert, Paul Hobbs or Peter Michael. All great wines, all larger than life. However, more and more, I'm yearning and searching for subtlety. Lately, my passion has been for Arterberry Maresh. Jim Maresh, the wunderkind of Oregon, comes from a storied family. His grandfather planted Maresh Vineyards, his father made one of the highest rated Pinot Noirs in history. Jim's brash, and talks some shit, but the wines speak for themselves. At just 26 years old he has taken Oregon Pinot to a whole new level. He's managed to make an Old World style wine in the truest sense of the definition. I'm working on my father as we speak to buy a case of this incredible wine, so stay tuned.  :)

So, back to this love affair? Why do I love Pinot Noir? Is it the fickleness of the grape? Perhaps, because like any good relationship, when it's great it's great but when it's bad it's horrid. Like an unrequited love, I will chase and chase until I have it in my clutches. And yet, there it is, always just slightly out of my grasp, aloof in its cockiness, knowing that once it succumbs I'll be putty in its hands. No wonder no shrink has ever been able to help me. I live for the hunt and am seldom deterred by rejection. Good thing I'm talking about wine here. 

I also tend to be attracted to its delicateness. Pinot Noir grapes appear to be sturdy on the outside, yet are squooshy on the inside. It's a metaphor for how I describe myself, and as you know, this blog is secretly all about me, so there ya go. Anyhow, I delight in the fact that Pinot Noir grapes are, in fact, petulant, as well as, delightful. They bristle at being too wet and shrink from too much sun. They aren't interested in being ignored and require much tender loving care to give you their best. Like any woman, I loathe a rainstorm, it makes my hair frizz, and I will always welcome the sun on my face unless it burns me. All Jeff has to do is be gentle yet consistent and I'm putty in his hands.

Ultimately, this is a blog post about myself. Just call me Pinot Noir. Handle with care.