Buying Wine . . .

. . . Like a girl. Or, rather, like this girl.

I had someone point out to me not too long ago that women tend to pick out bottles of wine based on the "cuteness" of the label.

I was offended.

Outraged.

Until I realized it was true. At least where it concerns me.

Then a whole different level of shock settled in, until I realized that I in fact didn't care if I picked out bottles of wine based on the label when I shopped. So far, my method has only steered me wrong once. I would like to point out that this method only really works for me when I am picking out white wines - if for some reason I have to purchase a red wine I simply pick out a bottle of something that my father likes.

He's a bit of a wine snob - as one can see if they enter his home through the garage:

(Door mats don't lie. They welcome, they collect dirt - but rarely do they lie.)

On a recent shopping trip I purchased these two bottles of wine:

I bought the Cupcake wine because it was on sale and I've been wanting to try it since I started seeing it in stores - but fifteen bucks for a bottle of wine that I'm not sure I like (and will take me forever to drink) seems like a bit much - hence the waiting for it to go on sale.

The Lucky Duck wine is a bottle of Two-Buck Chuck - or rather with inflation - Four Buck Chuck (but that lacks a certain je ne sais quoi) - and it's from Wal-Mart. There was an add in the paper and I have a small thing about ducks. I purchased two bottles - one red, one white. The Malbec was for my father who drank it that night and I'm happy to report he liked it. But really - how cute is the label??

And to show that the "cuteness" factor has held true before I knew about it - here are some other wines that I've purchased based on their labels (after all it's what catches my eye and makes me read the label - yadda, yadda, yadda):

The First Sign of Spring . . .

. . . is when the gnomes make themselves known.

Or I purchase one at Tuesday Morning.

And then proceed to name him David, after the most famous gnome of all. Mostly my family shook their heads at me. I've said it before and I'll say it again - on any given day I'm about twelve years old inside (sometimes younger).

I like to think it was my inner six year old who demanded I purchase David (and name him David). Too many hours watching an animated show about gnomes with my grandmother when I was young. On the up side I didn't buy the two foot tall cast iron gnome they had at Costco . . . I went with the smaller, less ostentatious version - a rule that does not apply to purchasing diamonds, only gnomes.

Peace, Love & Gnomes