Valle de Guadalupe · Baja California
MONSE
A pale rosé. Valle de Guadalupe.
Pale. Dry. Cold. One vintage a year. Hand-dipped pink wax.
The first drop is small. The list gets first access.
Reserve
Small run
On purpose.
Ships
US & MX.
By the case
12, yes.
The wine
Pale. Dry.
Cold.
Made in a valley that runs along the Pacific, where the mornings are cool and the afternoons take their time. The soil is old. Ancient seabed. People say you can taste it. They're probably right.
Provence-style. Which means the color is the point. Which means nothing was added to make it pretty. Which means the person who made it knew what they were doing and didn't need to explain it.
It's not a big wine. It's not trying to be. It's the one you open when the plan falls apart and the night gets better anyway.
The bottle
Tall. Tapered.
Dipped by hand.
Hand-dipped in pink wax, which is unnecessary and completely worth it.
The wordmark is embossed. Silver. You have to look for it.
It photographs well. We didn't design it for that. It just does.
Where
Open it
somewhere.
A fire escape in the East Village. The first warm night of the year. Two glasses, no plan.
A back table in Soho. Linen napkins. The kind of place where nobody asks what you do.
A house on a lake outside Mexico City. August. The dock still warm at nine. Someone is making dinner; someone else is not.
The bottle travels. The afternoon goes with it.
The philosophy
The wine is the artifact.
The afternoon is the point. The long one. The one that started at two and ended somewhere around midnight with glasses in the sink and nobody remembering whose idea the second bottle was.
That's it. That's the whole thing.
$55
One bottle. First drop coming.
The first run is small. On purpose. The list gets first access, full stop. No restock announcement, no second chance email. When it's gone it's gone.
Questions