Corrina Wright makes her Women In Wine speech ... photo©Philip
White
The politics of difference and wine provenance: tricky moves toward the donk-free plonk?
by PHILIP WHITE
"The
numbers of women in the wine industry are dropping," Oliver's Taranga
winemaker Corrina Wright said, "and in the twenty years that I've been in
the industry they've almost halved. And I just don't feel really good about
that. Sitting back and wishing for it to change has simply not been working."
My relationship with this
recent movement never started too well. A pity. A philogynist from infancy, I
was always drawn to powerful women. Both sides of my family depended on very
strong presumptuous women with too many children and I grew up in a tough country village run by tough
lesbian graziers.
That was all normal to me.
photo©Philip
White
Having first read of the
activist feminists of the 'sixties in the waiting room at the dentist's where I encountered my
first stack of TIME magazines, I couldn't wait to hit the city and get amongst
them. The first three partners I lived with were uncompromising feminists:
activists, aggressive professional women who'd cut their own way through the jungle. They
were all years older than me: I knew I needed training. They could practice on me.
That's my first serious trainer, Maire 'Mizzo' Mannik, above, in 1973. She was an ace computer programmer in the days when computers were bigger than houses ... we worked together in the Department of Mines and Energy. She went on to write witheringly witty television criticism in The Adelaide Review. Mizzo's ex, the blues musician Wild King Roy, was the first bloke I knew who went off to Roseworthy College to study winemaking.
My high school geography
note book from 1964-5 (below;
image and photo©Philip White) commences with my first precise notes on viticulture in
South Australia. These make no hint whatsoever that the growing of vines was a
male bastion. I naively felt the vine business was one which could be pursued by
men and women alike.
.
Within a decade of taking
those first wine notes, I'd watched and welcomed women begin the unending battle
for equal pay for equal work; by 1980 I was mixing with female winemakers like
Pam Dunsford, Alison Hodder and Ursula Pridham. I loved the way they stood up
to the blokes and got on with it.
I hated male editors
sending me out to chase snaps of female winemakers showing leg on ladders and
gantries, or a glimpse of side tit leaning over barrels in the old blue
singlet. Those newspapermen depended entirely on their wives to run their
kitchens and feed them, so I was bemused that they found it novel to see women working
in wineries which were basically bloody great big usually filthy kitchens.
Them blokes just didn't get
it. I wonder what they hoped their wives would wear while they made them their tomato and Coon sandwiches for work.
Brande Roderick: Hugh Hefner's ideal woman in wine, photo Playboy 2000 ... perhaps quite sensibly, Brande went on to make a lot more money than your actual wine or brandy
Thirty or so years later, I
generally dismissed internet whispers about the Australian women's wine
movement doing something about matching shoes and wine. I wrote sourly of the
lot who went for instant misogynist headlines by conforming to Woolworths'
primitive marketing ploy to flash some limelight on them as if the absence of a
penis made a difference to what ends up in the bottle or on the table. I feared retrograde
giggly girly business: the modern vinous equivalent of the amateur feminists
who'd sit on the floor at parties screeching along to Melanie's song about
roller skates in the days when blokes were expected to show up for the Vietnam
war.
Corrina's speech was
confronting and reassuring.
Milton Wordley, my
photographer mate, first invited me to that inaugural awards event at Oliver's, and did the driving.
I confess to expecting more Melanie Safka than Patti Smith, but I took along my
brace of champagnes for the ice bins and my pizza money entry fee for the caterers, knowing that I'd
probably miss out on imbibing both as I'd be working. We weren't going for fun. Sho' nuff I left empty, wondering how many self-employed Canberra reporters you'd get to a presser of all-female politicians if you asked the hacks to bring their own drinks and pay an entry fee, but that's another matter.
"This year I was judging at the Royal Perth Wine Show," Corrina continued.
"The
judges' dinner was held at a male-only club and I had special permission to
attend on the night. You know what? That's just so shit. It just didn't sit
right with me. And I was able to lean on others in my network, like the other
girls who created these awards with me, and I was able to be brave enough to
say that's actually not right and I boycotted the dinner.
"But it's actually really hard for women. It's really hard for the other
women judging to do the same, because they're really afraid that they'd never be
asked to judge again if they cause a fuss. And you know it was a real emotional
experience. It's stupid. And I just want women to know there are networks out
there."
Dr Irina
Santiago-Brown, vineyard ecologist and partner/co-winemaker at Inkwell Estate,
McLaren Vale, won the inaugural Australian Women In Wine Awards Viticulturer OfThe Year, and Rose Kentish of Ulithorne was named Winemaker Of The Year.
Last weekend
I felt the firm touch of Corrina's network.
Rose Kentish at the awards with daughter Lili; Milton at work in the background
photo©Philip
White
Rose Kentish rang. She'd had a call from Corrina, whom I'd just visited.
Once again Milton had taken me to Oliver's Taranga - my first visit since the
awards. While we chatted I suggested to Corrina that I'd like to talk at some
stage to her and Rose about my thinking that their new movement might have
better given its first national winemaking award to somebody who actually makes wine
in their own winery from grapes they've grown in their own vineyards with a
name to match the one on the bottle.
Bacchus only knows how
many very famous winemakers use consultants and hire access to other people's wineries
and buy fruit they don't grow themselves. I remember Wolf Blass showing
surprise that he'd got his first crusher and vineyards when he bought
Quelltaler Estate in the early' eighties, and I promise you he was already a
very famous and rich winemaker with more trophies in his trunk than anybody
else in the game. Wolfie himself got famous as a 'consultant' after a stint perfecting the Pineapple Pearl kiddylikker for Ian Hickinbotham at Kaiser Stuhl.
There's nothing new or
scandalous about any of this. It's just what happens in the ethanol-peddling racket. But I've been writing more lately about
the importance of provenance in selling wine - especially expensive wine - and
I can feel a vibe from the lasses' camp that I'm mansplaining, so best get this
clarification sorted. At the risk of this being a bit of she-said-he-said-she-said,
here she goes:
I knew that Rose lived in
the biggest house in the south, but had never heard of her going to the expense
of owning her own winery.
Part of Rose's wee home at Middleton ... photo©Philip
White
I also knew that she pays wineries in the north-west
Mediterranean to make her wines from those parts and that the Ulithorne
Vineyard that gave its name to her brand and won her the McLaren Vale Bushing
Trophy in 2008 had been sold by her in-laws to Warren Randall before the
Bushing Crown even hit her brow.
I admired the honesty she
showed at that bonnie coronation: Rose was quick to have the male half of the royal
spoils go on the head of her Australian winemaker and mentor, Brian Light. As
opposed to her husband Sam Harrison who was surfin' at Cactus on the day. A
painter, he'd designed the Ulithorne label.
From her speech I left with little doubt that Brian had a fair bit to do
with making the wine.
Perhaps it's more than coincidence that it was Pam Dunsford, the first female residential winemaking student at Roseworthy, who introduced me to Brian in about 1980. Pam loved the wines he made at Clarendon from his family vineyards on the flats of Baker's Gully. Thirty-five years later, I can see those flats across the track from my front verandah.
Brian Light and Rose Kentish, McLaren Vale Bushing King and Queen, 2008
photo©John Kruger
I mean, at the Bushing Lunch, there he was
standing with the crown on his head. I've always revered his winemaking, a
sentiment made the more intense when I appreciate his serious eyesight
handicap.
Anyway, Corrina called
Rose, Rose called me, I wrote some questions for her to clear things up and she
immediately responded in writing, making clear that whatever she heard I'd said had 'hurt' her.
Rose makes the Australian
Ulithorne wine at Longwood, DiFabio and Haselgrove wineries from purchased
grapes as well as from her new vineyard near Kay's Amery, where she hopes to
build a winery. If things go according to plan, she'll move her cellar sales
and tasting room from her home in Middleton Mill to this new facility.
"Brian
Light's a mentor and a good friend," she explained. "I see him like a
musician might see an executive producer, or an actor sees their voice coach ...
I started making wine with him in an
apprentice-type role 18 years ago. Now he assists me with technically difficult
situations where I have exhausted all the usual solutions ... I find that as I
work on my own as a winemaker, I really appreciate having such an experienced
person to taste and give feedback. He pushes me to improve my skills. I see
many winemakers do this, and it is a benefit many winemakers have who work in
teams in the larger companies. If you work alone, you can become very insular
in your ideas and it can limit your personal and professional growth."
Much like
Wolf Blass the 'master-blender' depended on his lifelong shotgun rider, the genius
winemaker John 'The Ferret' Glaetzer.
Forget about small change, Provence and Corsica: you want the sniff of wealth stand here: the author with Wolf Blass and John Glaetzer at Doug Lehmann's wake ... blokes mainly photo©Johnny 'Guitar' Preece
Rose's
Mediterranean wines, meanwhile, are collaborative works with businesses in
Corsica and Provence.
"I
can’t be there all year round," she said, "so they check the juice
for me and ensure that SO2 is maintained, and is racked occasionally etc., but
other than that the decisions on picking times, processing and techniques in
the cellar, making the final blends, are mine. I also return six months after
vintage to do the blends and assist with the bottlings which, in both estates,
is done on site.
"I have
four teenagers and was feeling very pressured with all that 2015 had to bring."
Rose continued. "So there will be no 2015 French wines made by me. Sadly,
this also meant that I had to turn down an offer to make my first Pinot noir at
a domaine in Burgundy, a project I have been working towards for the last 24
months."
As for me feeling
a little uncomfortable at the women's awards?
"The
more that men celebrate women, and women celebrate men," Rose concluded,
"the better McLaren Vale, and the industry as a whole, will be."
This bloke
can't agree more. I certainly need more training, and there's lots of serious
inequalities left to sort. Like that unforgiveable equal pay business.
Let's get on
with it.
Corrina Wright with Briony and Don Oliver bringing Taranga grapes to put through the superlative Yangarra machinery before the Yangarra vintage starts ... below you see two very sensitive and careful people gently squashing Yangarra Roussane before it goes into the eggs ... different roles for women of different sensibilities? ... photos©Philip
White
2 comments:
Well done Rose……….we all need to keep Whitey on his toes!
I could not agree with you more, that winemaking can be a lonely pursuit and having a buddy/friend to run thoughts past is a must.
I revel in it with my winemaker Ben Perkins, the daily challenge of tasting day after day, barrel after barrel, is sometime more about the conversation we have, the laughs we have, the deep discussions we have than the wines we make.
You are so lucky to work with somebody as talented as Brian Light, to this day his 94,95 and 96 Brian Light Reserve Shiraz are a few of the best McLaren Vale wines to have hit my lips
Best of luck with the harvest
Michael Twelftree
Rich girls. Poor things.
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