I'm Starting A Wine Business. Here's Why.

This is how you start a wine club, right?

I’m starting a wine business. It’s a phrase I’ve been trying to get used to, repeating it out loud to myself in the mirror, whispering it into my deaf dog’s one good ear (left), to the squirrels in my backyard, and just recently to actual humans.

Here’s what I’ve been telling those judgy squirrels:


I’ve always wanted to run my own show.

I’ve dreamed of creating something of my own ever since I watched Diane Keaton start a successful jam business in the 1987 hit Baby Boom. The idea for a wine club focusing on West Coast producers started rattling around in my brain during the pandemic, but it’s also rooted in the entrepreneurial spirit of my parents who have been self-employed for as long as I’ve known them. Their most recent endeavor has been running a small winery in the Yakima Valley for the past 20 years, which has been inspiring to watch.

I also really like the idea of being able to drink during business hours and emphatically state “It’s for work!” to anyone shooting me judgy glances.

I want to learn more about wine.
The world of wine is a fascinating place, full of passionate people and interesting stories about place and heritage. But it’s also incredibly intimidating. It’s a field built around words that are hard to pronounce, concepts that are a bit abstract, and a heavy dose of pretentiousness. It’s this ladder element that does the industry the biggest disservice, keeping a lot of people at bay. In whatever way I can, I want to help change that. I want to build a community of liked-minded wine lovers who simply like a good glass and want to have a little fun. Let’s see what happens!

Corporate America kinda… sucks?
I’ve put 20+ years into a career in editorial and copywriting. I’ve been laid off 4 times. I’ve experienced company changes that turn amazing brands into greedy landing pages begging you to Shop Now Plz Think Of Our Shareholders (but like, in a fun natural way). I’ve had magical jobs and worked with amazing people, but I’ve also been demoralized as I’ve watched creative teams get stripped for parts by uninspiring leaders and money men who “love the work” but think an algorithm could do it better. I think I’m done for now.

I want to a champion a “Tuesday Wine” lifestyle.
I’m a staunch believer that wine is meant to be enjoyed not by hoarding it away in a cellar or mythologizing it with dense critiques; but by actually drinking it and experiencing it and sharing it with friends. Wine should help make your Tuesday fell a little less Tuesday-ish. For me, the main barometer for a good wine is: If you like it, it’s good!

If not now, when?
Yes. It’s a weird time to be starting something new. Yes, coaxing people into unclenching their dollars for a “luxury item” might be a bold ask at the moment. Yes, it feels like someone tapped a little too hard on the glass and now the world is a bit cattywampus, spinning off its axis. But at a time when it seems like only the bad guys are getting ahead and being totally gross about, trying to build something that’s a little nicer, that supports farmers, and brings some joy to your doorstep seems like a quiet form of… I don’t know, rebellion? Carpe diem, and all that.

I CAN’T. GO BACK. ON LINKEDIN.
I spent a full year using LinkedIn to find freelance work. I can’t go back.

I can’t read another obnoxiously spaced out post about how to stand out when spamming a stranger’s inbox about a job opening. I can’t keep shouting into the void that is the comments section of someone’s post looking to expand their freelancer network. If I get auto rejected approximately seven seconds after hitting the apply button because I didn’t guess the right key words to secretly put at the bottom of my resume in white font (yes, that’s real), I will LOSE IT. Please, please don’t make go back there.

So that’s it. Those are some of the reasons I’m starting a wine club. I’m calling it West Coast Wine Club. It’s a monthly box featuring 1 bottle of wine from Washington, Oregon, and California. They will be from smaller producers you won’t necessarily find out in the wild, curated by me.

It’s going to be a lot of work (for me) and a lot of fun (for you). Sign up now to get on the waitlist.

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The Wine Club Manifesto