Nelly Ward writes I’m a wine lover who turned her passion into a career. As a DipWSET-qualified Wine Educator, I host private and corporate tastings and share stories through my blog. Whilst travelling through the world’s wine regions, I now create bespoke journeys through my wine travel company, inJoy, and building a community that brings people together. I also champion women in the industry as part of the organising team behind the international Women in Wine Expo. For me, wine is a gateway to connection, curiosity, and the quiet joy of discovering something that speaks to your soul.
The mirror in the glass
When I am asked which is my favourite grape, I smile, as I realise that my answer is less about the grape itself and more about self-reflection at this moment in my life journey.
I’m someone who’s lived a few different lives. I grew up in Belarus. I chased the better life by moving to the UK. I built a career in private banking. I lived in ambitious, pressurised worlds where everything was about control, precision, performance. I was always trying to prove myself, in constant competition – with the men, with the more privileged, with the more entitled. I was fighting for something that was a society definition of success, so no wonder I was drawn to the obvious players, like Cabernet Sauvignon – the bold, the strong, the powerful. There was no room for timidness, for self-reflection – if you’re not loud enough you will never be heard, if you’re not in the spotlight you will never be chosen, if you don’t fight you will never succeed.
But then one evening, at a wine bar, in the middle of enjoying my favourite big Bordeaux reds, I was poured a glass blind that would change everything...
I was used to wines announcing themselves. This one whispered. I listened. It didn’t chase you with oak or overwhelm you with fruit. It smelled almost like Cabernet Sauvignon, yet with much more finesse, it was greener yet more floral, sophisticated, with something very familiar at the edge that I couldn’t pinpoint at the time, but which took me all the way back to my childhood. On the palate it was delicate but not fragile, precise but unafraid to be a little wild, it carried a balance between elegance and edge, grace and grit, it had a kind of depth that can’t be timed or measured.
There was wisdom in that glass, the sense of inception, the absolute truth. It felt like the world around me stopped for a minute and I just knew that I wanted a different life. A life that felt more like that glass – curious, layered, a little unruly. Later that year I followed my passion: I left banking and joined the wine trade. And even though I found myself in an even more male dominated environment than finance, I knew I didn’t need to prove myself, I felt content and quietly powerful. With that glass, I realised that there is no need for competition – Cabernet Sauvignon might have the headlines, the cellar placements, the En Primeur buzz, but even he has a mother, who carries the wisdom, the tenderness, the love.
It might sound strange that a grape taught me something about myself, but this one did. It made me look inside myself and search for what really mattered. It put me on the path of self-discovery. I realised it mirrored the parts of me I hadn’t fully claimed. The parts that are gentle but unshakable. Observant. Feminine in the truest, richest sense – not in performance, but in presence. It felt like an invitation to explore that side of myself. A lesson in self-trust, quiet confidence, and the power of subtlety.
Some wines are about celebration. Some are about seduction. This, for me, is about intimacy and reconnection with myself. The reminder that I am a woman – and, like this grape, I can show a shadow and be distant, poetic, angular and reserved, or I can shine with smile, be warm, bright, fun and flirtatious. But I’m still me. And this grape, whether she’s in the cool climate of northern France, or in the sunlit rows of vines at the high altitudes of Argentina, she never loses herself. She is adaptable, but never diluted. She holds her essence, always. And if you give her a moment, she will open up. She will reveal the rainbow of her personality.
Because being soft doesn’t mean being weak, being contemplative doesn’t mean you have nothing to say, being vulnerable doesn’t mean you don’t hold your ground, owning your sexuality doesn’t mean being vulgar, elegance can be wild, a whisper can be the most powerful voice in the room, and yes, feeling truly worthy doesn’t mean seeking everyone’s approval – this is the power of authenticity, the power of self-love.
And that’s why my ode is to Cabernet Franc.
Not to convince anyone that she is the best grape in the world. Just to say she’s mine. That in her, I found not just a favourite wine – but a mirror.
