New York City?!?

A gunky shade of crimson befitting only the finest antique shops, tightly woven rugs and oiled carvings jammed in along ivory clocks and pewter mugs desperately needing a polish that someone packed back from Germany after showing it off on sputtering 8mm in striped sweaters and floppy socks which abruptly shifts to a blurry dirt road in Yosemite no one remembers the year of. A graceful nutty basil lies over shaded pool water high up in Laurel Canyon under a partial moon and shaggy eucalyptus, behind several junk cars, and a spicy bite ungentrified–not from heat or youth or minerality–from gritty tertiary and the bitter sing-song of perfectly modeled fruit and the tirelessness of intelligence and charm. It’s not the dancing that kills you–it’s the stopping dancing.

2010 PACE Syrah Santa Ynez Valley Santa Barbara 13.8


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