I collect wine glasses. I didn’t set out to collect wine glasses, it just happened. It’s an accidental collection. I have, in my possession, 173 wine glasses. I know this because I counted them. I can feel your side-eye. I know what you’re thinking. Why the hell do you need 173 wine glasses? I’m not sure, but I do. I might have a party. You wouldn’t believe how often I throw parties for 173 people.
Are all those wine glasses really useful? Or am I possessed by my possessions? This is a fancier way of asking, am I a hoarder?
This is what 173 wine glasses looks like. Well, technically, this is what 117 wine glasses looks like. I didn’t drag out my set of 12 Champagne tasting flutes. Or the 24 wine tasting glasses I keep on hand for verticals. Or the 20 pieces of fancy lead-crystal glasses I own. My table wasn’t big enough.
Now that you’ve seen this, I should tell you there’s a fine line between a collection and a hoard. Clinically, hoarding is the excessive collection (or possession) of items, along with the inability to discard them. I prefer to think of my menagerie as an extreme collection, but someone with fancy consonants after their name might call it a hoard. Is 173 glasses excessive? And (moment of truth) can I get rid of any of them?
In the interest of sanity, I’ve decided to try to thin my
hoard collection . . . I’m going to try to dispossess a few glasses. The problem is they all mean something to me . . . and I’m not sure I can part with any of them. So let me introduce you to some (but by no means all) of my hoard collection.
These glasses belonged to my grandmother — they’re among the very few things of hers that still exist. I have a total of 11 of them. They are completely wrong for any kind of serious wine drinking . . . but I love them. And I will never, ever part with them.
This is part of my mom’s Rosenthal Variation stemware set. She received it as wedding gifts in 1965. I have about 12 pieces total. Mom still has the rest. I love these just as much as grandma’s. They just ooze 60s chic. In fact, I wish I’d chosen this pattern as my wedding crystal. They’re much prettier than mine. No way I could part with these.
And this is my wedding crystal — Lady Anne by Gorham. Don’t tell my husband, but I don’t even like them anymore. They’re waaaay too fussy. We’ve been married over 20 years, and I’m not sure I’ve used them 20 times. We should have registered for power tools at Home Depot. But who gets rid of their wedding crystal just because they don’t use it?
These are my German Roemer wine glasses. One of the first wines I can remember tasting was in this kind of glass. I adore them. And there used to be six of them . . . grrr. They absolutely stay.
I can’t stand Ed Hardy — his merchandise or his message. I have friends who know how much I loathe Ed Hardy . . . and so they buy me Ed Hardy wine glasses. I washed them just for you. When my girlfriend comes over, we raise a glass to the ridiculous with these glasses. They have to stay.
Last week, I found a pair of Riedel Tirol Pinot Noir glasses on clearance for $11. Who doesn’t buy two Riedel Tirol Pinot Noir glasses for $11?
Curse you, Home Goods.
My favorite everyday wine glasses of the bunch are my Eisch breathable stemware. I don’t know how Eisch makes these, but dang . . . they’re awesome! I’ve tasted wine side-by-side in Eisch and Riedel, and (sorry Riedel) the Eisch wine tastes better. It’s been a while since that tasting, though . . . I should probably run another experiment and blog about it this time. These have to stay.
I own a whole complement of Riedel glasses. I started collecting grape variety stems, two by two, like Noah . . . but I quickly ran out of room to store them. And yet, I still own 21 of them. One day, my dream house will have a stemware room. What? People have craft rooms, why can’t I have a stemware room?
Ooooh! And these lovelies are copper wire-wrapped glasses my friend made. How gorgeous are they? You know you’ve arrived in the Circle of Trust when I serve you a glass of wine in one of these beauties. No way they can go.
THESE! These are the last of what used to be 23 mismatched winery tasting glasses. I got rid of the other 19 a few months ago. Yes, that means I used to own 192 wine glasses. But you see? I can let go. And just to prove it, I’m throwing these into the recycling bin right now.
Alright. Done and done. That brings me down to 169 wine glasses . . . which seems like a totally healthy, completely useful, non-excessive, dispossessed number to me.