The Love Language of Gift-Giving
“And wine can of their wits the wise beguile, make the sage frolic, and the serious smile.” —Alexander Pope
Do you know what love languages are? Dr. Gary Chapman first introduced them in his 1992 book The Five Love Languages, summarizing the various ways people express and receive love into five categories:
Words of Affirmation: using verbal expressions of love, appreciation, and encouragement
Acts of Service: actions speaking louder than words
Receiving Gifts: heartfelt gifts making one feel most loved
Quality Time: valuing undivided attention
Physical Touch: connecting through physical contact
Although Dr. Chapman’s model focuses on receiving gifts as one of the love languages, I know from personal experience that the act of giving gifts can also be its own love language. If there’s one thing in which I’m confident, it is my gift-giving ability. I harness this as a superpower — one as innate as our circadian rhythms, as intrinsic as our breathing.
I’m an equal opportunity gift-giver — I love giving gifts of all kinds, both physical and abstract. Whenever I stumble upon things in the wild that I think a friend would dig, I file it away for a future occasion or I pick it up right then as an “I was thinking of you” gift. The same applies for how a gift is presented. While I respect a good gift bag and tissue paper situation, what I really adore is wrapping paper with an accompanying ribbon, befitting any shape with perfectly folded edges and well-tucked corners, as thoughtful as whatever surprise lies underneath.
Physical gifts aside, I too appreciate the power of gifted experiences, as they usually involve quality time with the recipient, soon-to-become memories treasured long after a memento or souvenir is lost or misplaced. After all, the idea of collective effervescence is prime fodder for experiences as gifts — the heightened sense of excitement and unity that occurs when people come together in a group to participate in a shared social event.
One of the reasons I find wine so fascinating is its curious intersection of the tangible (bottles, fermented juice, glasses) and the intangible (the sensory, the enjoyment, the community). Gifting wine may start with a physical bottle, but the selection and the forethought behind said bottle open the prospective experiences with it — whether that be paired with a specific meal, shared with friends, popped for a special occasion, or opened just because.
Consuming wine is inherently ephemeral — once imbibed, whatever was bottled therein, not to be dramatic, is gone forever. Even with the “same” wine or bottling, it is all akin to a live performance — that is, impossible to be truly repeated, making it an archetype of experience.
I prescribe to the idea there are wines out there for everyone, a self-imposed directive determined to seek something you’ll really fancy. Selecting wines for any occasion, gift, or circumstance is currently my emotional shorthand. In the same way my grandmother expressed her affection by nourishing my childhood with her home cooking, I only wish for my family and friends to be equally uplifted by my choices in wine, which are thoroughly considered, whether for certain penchants (think: extended skin contact for beer lovers), for past occasions (think: same cuvée with new vintage), or as pointed recommendations (think: if you like Chardonnay, you might enjoy Godello). Where possible, I’ll even throw in other personal details to really “perfect” the choice, shifting my storytelling gears into full throttle.
One of my favorite bottles I’ve ever gifted was to my college friends Eleanor and Chris. After they had temporarily relocated to California in 2021, I had the pleasure of visiting them a year or so later, around the time of their tenth wedding anniversary.
After stopping at Flatiron Wines, the Bay Area satellite of my favorite NYC wine shops, I had found the most apropos bottle for them as a belated housewarming and early anniversary gift. This Californian wine was a Blanc de Blancs sourcing its Chardonnay grapes from Michael Mara Vineyard planted in 2006, incidentally the same year as when my friends had started dating in college. In addition, a reserve blend with components dating back to 2012 comprised this traditional method sparkler, aligning with the year they tied the knot. The pièce de résistance was the disgorgement date of July 2021, which coincided with precisely when they had moved as a family to California, where the wine itself was also grown and produced.
When all of those details came together, tied in a prim proverbial bow, I knew I’d instantly elevated my gift-giving game — by pivoting it to a challenge to be tackled, a puzzle to be solved. How can I gift a physical bottle of wine while also supplementing it with unexpected, whimsical tie-ins as an added experiential element? Every opportunity that I get to ask this question brings me so much joy.
Inspired by the antique charm of ex libris bookplates, I found a vine-like design for a custom stamp on Etsy I could modify to instead read ex vinarium (Latin for “from the cellar of”). I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out, especially when applied to a burgundy-colored ink pad onto manila tags, to be suspended on the necks of gifted bottles.
Returning to the five love languages, it turns out mine is quality time. Consequently, it’s not shocking for the act of gift-giving to reflect how I express love, care, and consideration, aligning with quality time as a love language. As I earmark wines for friends, future gifts, and special occasions, I’ll savor the kinship that wine has with gift-giving — the material with the escapade, the bottles with the toasts, the swirls with the sensory.
Wine is meant to be physically shared, best as communal experiences, with the hope of fondly remembering them together. With gift ideas looming on the horizon, my gift-giving flair is primed and ready — I look forward to pouring into existence the tangible and intangible, bottle by bottle, unlocking my untold stories here with you.
