Its just the wine talking

The language of wine is ever changing and, in turn, so is the way retailers use it to influence the customer.  Andy Knott grapples with the wonders of wine wordage

FIRST THERE was one. At the beginning of the emergence of wine language, there was just one deity reigning supreme over descriptions for wine accepted by the general consumer: geography.

Given that movement and trade in goods (especially those of high bulk, low value) only developed over the last 500 years or so, it’s hardly surprising that, like wine regions themselves, the language and terminology used to describe wines remained relatively static for many years.

With the gradual acceptance by the wine consuming nations of non-indigenous products, however, there emerged the concept of New World wines, to distinguish them from their Old World cousins.

These novel entrants to the marketplace brought with them pioneering forms of promoting themselves, and in turn moved the language of wine on from the original deity of geography/locality/terroir.

Which is why the language of wine then became two.  Geography began to vie with varietalism in what was the vinous equivalent of the Cold War. Dualism replaced singularity.  Germany had merged the two concepts historically, an approach that in places, Italy also adopted.

Even in France – that much vaunted bulwark of vinous conservatism – the varietal route had begun in Alsace as far back as the 15th century, and gradually became more commonplace from the 1900s onwards.

By the mi-1980s, Jancis Robinson in her seminal text "Vines, Grapes and Wines" wrote: "A wine’s varietal make-up is crucial, a far more important influence on its flavour and character than geological wrinkle, accident of climate or craft in the cellar.

The grape alone determines perhaps 90% of the flavour of a wine, and shapes its character by regulating the intensity, weight, acidity, longevity and potential."  This statement was to prove highly prophetic. Few, even Robinson, would have predicted the extent to which the varietal approach has been accepted by increasingly sophisticated, modern consumers.

Their language moved on swiftly too.  The likes of Chablis, Beaujolais and Sancerre were no longer their buzzwords. Increasingly, consumers exuded confidence with terms such as Chardonnay, Merlot and Sauvignon Blanc becoming integral to their repertoire.

And then of course, there came not one, not two, but many deities in the pantheon of wine language.  Echoing Nietzsche’s famous aphorism "there are no truths, only perspectives", terminology within the wine world seems to have traversed a barrier over the last decade. Geography and varietal were intermingled and the concept of wine brands was brought to the fore.

Branding had long ruled the roost in the other main alcoholic drinks sectors of beers and spirits, and it has become the hottest topic of the wine world of late. Beyond the dyed-inthe- wool set – wine’s very own chattering classes – few doubt that brands will play a more prominent vinous role in the future.

Equally, the rise of dining out has added something to the equation.  Restaurant lists introduced the notion of style in attempting to communicate the compatibility of wines with food.

So, phrases such as "light, crisp whites", "soft, mellow" and "huge, monster reds" entered the vinous vernacular.  This stylistic approach has subsequently been adopted by the likes of Virgin Wines and it’s success can only be deduced by the fact that the latter is virtually the only remaining internet-only wine retailer from the profusion that emerged in the heady, brief moment of the dot-com craze.

And perhaps most imortantly, the changing face of modern retailing is having an effect as well. In the UK, supermarkets have increasingly tightened their armlock on wine sales, such that nearly four out of every five bottles are currently purchased within these entities.

This situation has forced the specialist chains to take a long, hard look at their approach, lest they be confined to oblivion.  Desperate times call for disparate measures.  September 2002, saw the then First Quench, but now newly named Thresher Group, announce that it was to radically overhaul its approach, turning wine retailing "on its head".

"First Quench felt it was time to tackle head-on the ‘traditional’ off-licence retail format, and turn it upside down, establishing a new shopping environment based around ease, simplicity, clarity and choice," insists marketing director Kevin Sykes.

"Instead of the usual bewildering clutter of wine regions and grape types, we’ve reinvented a bright and clean modern environment with a crystal clear new system of tasting guides, prices and labels."

After more than a year of extensive research – conducted both in-store and via statistical investigation – the company decided that price was the most crucial factor in consumer’s wine purchasing, and has rearranged its shelves accordingly.

So wines from different countries and grape varieties sit side-by-side with hard, economic facts being the only differentiating factor.  Not content with purely limiting arrangements to economics, culture – and pop culture at that – has also been introduced with a separate area set aside for the "Top Ten" best-selling wines.

This price and top of the pops approach was initially pioneered in five stores, but it was unravelled to 30 stores prior to Christmas.  But such has been the success that the entire estate of 2,300 units will mimic those intrepid price trailblazers in the not too distant future.

If Thresher Group’s activities are anything to judge by, the changing language of wine is clearly having an effect on how retailers market and merchandise their products.  In Paco Underhill’s 2000 text "Why We Buy", he explored the myriad different factors that motivate the psychological underpinnings of consumer’s retail behaviour.

It appears that many of his methods are now finding their merry way into the world of wine retailing. Supermarkets, independents and high street chains alike are no longer relying on a single way of presenting their wines, but rather motivating consumers with an increasingly complex blend of messages and cues within the wine aisles.

The question is, will this increased complexity ultimately help the industry en masse? Will this multiplicity of terminology only serve to confuse the baffled wine consumer still further? To be frank, it’s difficult to tell at the moment.  

The world of wine is in a state of flux, and passing through its most exciting historical era. The brave moves adopted by a number of players have been forced on them by the necessities of the market – a need to diversify and differentiate themselves in the face of fiercer competition.

But whether wine and wine drinkers will respond to being fragmented down into myriad marketable sectors, based on their response to several different linguistic presentations – or whether they’ll pine for the solidity and security of a unitary system, be it geography, varietal or pure, good, old fashioned taste, will be unravelled only through history.