Nathan Zachary writes having casually enjoyed wine dating back to my adolescence wherein we would be offered a glass at family dinners, I am a relative latecomer to the fervent pursuit of understanding what makes wine the most special of beverages. I earned my WSET Diploma in 2022, and have since shifted to studying for degrees in viticulture and oenological chemistry in order to pursue my ultimate goal of producing exciting wines at accessible prices.
Pareidolia or something more?
Firmly gripping my attaché case to quell the anxiety, I enter the exposition hall. As I scan the room, I see many of the regular attendees in their typical form:
Arnaud C. Sauvignon, with his strong posture, acknowledging his position at the top of the hierarchy;
Régine Chardonnay, winning over everyone in the room with her friendly and familiar charm;
Alejandro Monastrell, showing unfaltering intensity that demands the attention of all in his presence;
Freya Riesling, immediately recognisable given her vivacious and outgoing nature.
Though I don’t spot her at my cursory glance, I remain hopeful that she’s here this evening. For this event is not in London, Paris, Tokyo, or New York. No, this event is in Athens.
Moving past the first few tables, I recognise other guests from lesser-known areas of the wine world:
Ms. Saskia Pinotage from Stellenbosch;
Mr. Lautaro Malbec from Mendoza;
Ms. Annika G. Veltliner from the Wachau;
Even Mr. Jadranko Pošip from Croatia is here tonight! But where are the locals? With all of us who travelled great distances to be here, certainly those who reside in Greece could make it, right? RIGHT?!
As I continue to meander and mingle with other guests, my tensions start to dissipate. Despite the pleasant shift from apprehension to calm, I do begin to doubt whether I will see her again.
It’s been years since we first met by sheer coincidence at that quaint beachside café on the isle of Sifnos. She was there on holiday from her home of Mantíneia in the Peloponnese, and I was trying to forget the frenetic hubbub of the streets of Santorini. I sat at my bistro table, attention alternating between my book and the gentle waves coming in from the south Aegean Sea. My interests shifted completely as she passed in front of me. Her allure stemming from the juxtaposition of the delicate manner in which she carried herself and the liveliness in her stride. I wanted to know more about her…
Wait! While I was reminiscing I nearly missed them walk in from the other room. The Greeks are here after all, and jovially telling their stories to the many guests who are meeting them for the first time:
Atlas Xinomavro, proclaiming his ancestry to the King of Piedmont (although we know otherwise);
Yiorgos Agiorgitiko, enticing us with his softness and approachability;
(I still snicker at the redundancy in his name; an undoubtedly cheeky gift from his parents.)
Eleni Assyrtiko, explaining the viticulture techniques required in her windswept home of Santorini.
Seeing these three, I’m now much more confident she’s here this evening… somewhere. Smiling at both familiar and new faces as I walk past them, I stay the course of finding her. Oh how I have wanted to reconnect year in and year out. Looking past some of the tables holding canapés and other hors d’oeuvre rather than the myriad wines to be tasted, I see for the first time that there’s a balcony off the main hall. I make my way outside to enjoy the ever-present beautiful breezes of Athens and the colours of the sun beginning its circadian descent.
And alas, there she stands up against the balustrade with the majestic grandeur of the Acropolis off in the distance. I immediately recognise her, partly because of her dusty rose complexion. I thought that she had simply been out in the sun too long that day at the beach, but no, it seems it’s her natural colouring. She is also wearing the same perfume tonight—the one that captivated me with its expressive floral notes of jasmine and African violets, alongside undertones of White Antibes melon. But more than anything, it’s her disposition that gives her away. At once dainty and vibrant, her dualities are the archetype of the Aristotelian notion that the whole can be far more than the sum of its parts.
As I approach, she turns to me with a coy smile in evident remembrance of our previous times together.
“Well if it isn’t the lovely Ms. Theía Moschofilero,” I reply to her smile as if it was a verbal salutation, “How wonderful to see you again”.
The glistening turquoise waters of the bay, the small picturesque shoreline dotted with shade trees, the slow pace where one’s biggest decision is how to best spend several hours lounging about. I may be here in Athens tonight, but any time we’re together, I am immediately transported back to that beach in Sifnos.
The photo of a beach in Sifnos is the author's own.
