(Editorial team, Manfred Klimek)
There it lies, innocuous, this cool blue stick that rejects any notion of romanticised indulgence: technically sleek, slightly futuristic, a small device devoid of pathos. Nothing about it suggests that, for an entire generation, it has become what red wine was for us: the way to kick off the evening, the way to wind down, that little private transition from day to night. And, I’ll admit it openly here: for me too. Not always, but increasingly often. For this stick, which can be legally purchased in Germany (though not in Austria or Switzerland), contains a very mild vaping blend, a hint of HHC, no THC whatsoever, and an effect that I would previously have attributed only to wine. A gentle sense of drowsiness, a serene drifting off, a subtle, almost literary haze. As mild as a light Bordeaux, as crisp as a Riesling, as reliable as a Quantum Comfort.
It’s not about replacing wine. It’s about the fact that, as the years go by, the body renegotiates its own terms. Red wine, even in moderate quantities, now takes a greater toll than it used to. I notice it clearly: a few glasses too many, and the next day becomes a recovery operation. The vape, on the other hand – as unassuming as it looks – feels more efficient, more controllable, physically easier on the body. A sort of peace in the palm of your hand. For many people between the ages of 20 and 40, it has long been a matter of course.
Naturally, this raises a question that would have sounded absurd just a few years ago: why isn’t there a red wine vape? One that conveys not only the flavour, but also the ritual, the effect, the slight tipsiness. We vape mint, mango, menthol, cherry, energy, even something called ‘Galaxy Ice’ – but not a single product dares to tackle Europe’s oldest evening tradition.
Can alcohol even be vaped effectively? Does it make you drunk? The few people I asked say: yes – but only slightly, and in a different way, and it doesn’t warm the heart quite like a glass of wine. It’s a dubious science, a grey area between aromatherapy and substance culture. The authorities have tools for cannabis, and for alcohol anyway. But for these new blends? It’s trickier. And that’s precisely what makes them so attractive: they defy the traditional regulatory categories. A red wine vape wouldn’t just fill a gap; it would be a cultural and historical experiment.
Perhaps there lies an opportunity, strange as it may sound. The world of wine is at a stage where it is struggling to connect with younger generations. Young people vape; they drink less; they want control. And they have no patience for 800 years of tradition if that tradition doesn’t resonate with their way of life. A red wine vape might seem grotesque – or brilliant. It would be a product that could foster brotherhood between worlds, a gateway for those who have so far only known wine as a problem area for their parents. Why not enter through the vapour rather than through the glass?
Of course, there would be many who would see this as blasphemy. Wine is sacred, they say; wine is culture; wine must not be forced into a cartridge. Yet these same people forget that wine was originally a product of chance, a technological experiment from antiquity. And that any culture that fails to evolve mummifies itself.
I am not advocating replacing the bottle with the stick. I am arguing for us to face reality: the world has changed faster than the wine industry is used to. Perhaps it is time for winemakers who are already considering natural wine, zero-dosage sparkling wine or non-alcoholic options to go one step further. Pool their resources, conduct joint research, and develop a red wine vape concentrate that isn’t ridiculous, but serious. A wine that isn’t drunk, but inhaled.
It’ll probably never happen. But the blue stick on my table tells me it could happen. And that – as is so often the case – it’s not tradition that decides, but the needs of the evening. And those change faster than any appellation.