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Ancient collectibles% that only reveal their "value"% when opened and drunk
Collectors are a strange bunch, mostly slightly "crazy", as one can see again and again - not entirely without reason. They collect everything: coins, stamps, pictures, art, telephone cards, dolls, books, newspapers, teddy bears, records, furniture, autographs, photos, postcards,... of course also wine labels, empty wine bottles, wine reviews, corks, crown caps,... Because I am a self-confessed collector and wine lover, I simply collect wine.

Those who are not infected by some kind of passion for collecting shake their heads and ask: "Do you drink it too, your collection?" Yes, I drink it and thus "destroy" something that I have gathered with enthusiasm over many hours, often with great effort. "Real" collectors turn pale, they don't give away their "showpieces", only the wine collector has to give them away - at some point. If he is a real collector, he will not sell his wines, give them away or integrate them into another collection. No, he will destroy them, i.e. drink them, and thus return the collection to its true purpose: enjoyment. Only when the wine has been drunk does the collector really know his object, just as he has always wanted to know and love it.

I know that non-collectors have little understanding for this. For them, collections are an accumulation of objects, a pursuit of possession, often also a questionable capital investment. Only very few collections can be sold and - even less - sold at a profit. It is true that the value usually increases with age, rarity, increased demand and irretrievability. But in the vast majority of cases this remains only a paper value, nothing more.

It is not much different with wine. True, there is a category of wines that still circulate on the market after many years and - depending on demand - also become more and more precious and expensive. This also makes them an enticement not to be drunk, but to be converted into cash. A "real" wine collector resists this temptation - at best, his descendants "sell off" the inherited estate. Sometimes with considerable profit, more often with bitter disappointment.

Bad vintages% nevertheless valuable: the best in my birth year and that of my daughter


It is difficult to calculate whether money can be made from a collection or its individual pieces. This is certainly not possible without profound knowledge, without the right "nose" and - the most difficult thing of all - the willingness to let go of the object coveted by others at the right moment.

Much of this does not apply to me. I have acquired this knowledge slowly over many years of collecting. For me, the right "nose" is more comparable to the luck of the lottery, and I have only mastered letting go in one direction: to my own palate. So I have actually unintentionally become a so-called "real" collector. I collect - it should not be concealed here - wines from the Bordelais. Yes, I am a Bordeaux collector.

Now, given the prices of the high-dollar wines, I am asked almost daily about the "high values". In fact, some bottles that I once bought "cheaply" now have an almost "immoral" luxury value. What do I do with a Pétrus that I bought many years ago for 100, 200 francs, but for which 5,000 and more francs are now offered at auctions? Drink it without hesitation on a good occasion - with the thought in the "back of my mind" of "enjoying" a few hundred francs with every sip? Or - even more difficult - to constantly suppress the fact of missing out on a hefty profit, even if the argument comes up as an excuse to be able to buy new, interesting, even better wines with the proceeds.

Such and similar thoughts are alien to me. Not because I am a "better" person, an obsessed wine lover, no, because I am a collector. The collector often has a different set of values. What for some is completely useless, rubbish, at best trash and a curiosity, is for the collector not only valuable, but time and again a target of his desire. The collector is also a hunter, and he allows his passion for hunting to cost more than he is prepared to spend on something of recognised value. Inconceivable?

I have thought for a long time about what nourishes and keeps alive my passion for collecting - usually without me being aware of it. On the one hand, there is the status of "expert", which I - as a collector - have acquired unintentionally by pursuing every little detail in all areas of my collecting field and exchanging knowledge and experience among "like-minded people".

Limits of a collection: seemingly useless goods pile up
Not only is the object itself explored, but the whole environment is researched and, if possible, collected as well. The collector also creates databases, learns to recognise fakes and knows about availability at all times. In short: soon he knows more than many others.

But perhaps collecting is also an escape. An escape from our complicated world, into a manageable realm with its own laws and standards of value, into a world where like-minded people are among themselves. Surely it is also the clinging to the ephemeral. For the wine lover, for whom his great love only finds fulfilment in the moment of transience, there is something comforting about a collection, something that belies finitude. Then there is still hope, hope for "completeness". Completeness instead of perfection. Completeness is striven for, again and again, it is never achieved. And yet it is more concrete than perfection; it stands or lies in rows, it presents itself as worldly possessions.

This is also how experiences can be collected. They fill books, tables, lists, but also only the memory or the arsenal of forgotten things.

But they can be taught, added to, even exchanged, and keep the collector constantly on the go. The collector collects all this - and more - together with his collected objects. For me, it's bottles from Bordeaux. For others, from Burgundy, from Italy, from Spain..... For others it is "only" the labels, the corks, the appraisals. One thing is certain: a collector "ticks" differently, a collector is a hunter, a collector can hardly be understood by non-collectors, certainly not with regard to his ideas of value. Price lists and auction catalogues are of little help.

There are also times when I perceive this passion for collecting as something "that creates suffering". For example, when prices - just because there are collectors - climb into the "unaffordable", when there is no space on the shelves, in the house or in the cellar. When I become aware of the impossible, of achieving completeness, or when I really feel the finiteness of life. For example, when a wine - according to the assessment of the barrel sample - will only be ready to drink in 2040 and later, and I also know with deadly certainty that I will never experience this. The only consolation then is that what I once collected can only now bring supreme pleasure. By the way: I don't only collect wines, but also... But let's leave that aside. I am a collector, also of wine experiences that are now mutating into columns.


Yours
sincerely,

Peter (Züllig)

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