Instinct, Discovery, and Trust
I found myself in a Parisian barbershop.
Another test of instinct.
The doubt crept in the moment I realized I had to explain how I wanted my hair cut beyond just saying, shorter.
I hesitated.
A simple act. Yet stripped of my usual tools—language, familiarity, the ability to convey precisely what I wanted—I was reduced to pure trust.
Would the barber understand? Would I walk out looking like myself, or someone else entirely?
My French is about as good as a three-year-old’s. I pointed, gestured, tried to summon the right words. The barber nodded.
There was no turning back. I hoped for the best.
In the end, I needn’t have worried. My girlfriend even said the haircut looked great—and honestly, that’s as much reassurance as I need these days.
The place had good reviews. How could I not trust the community? Maybe, just maybe, trusting the collective instinct isn’t always a bad thing.
When Discovery Gets Crowded
The day before, I was craving pho. It was cold in Paris. I wanted something quick.
Not just any pho. The kind of steaming, fragrant bowl that had once been my secret refuge—a tiny, unpretentious shop I had stumbled upon years ago.
No fuss. No hype. Just great food. Two starters, two mains, two sizes.
But something had changed.
The line outside was long. Too long.
The crowd was different—the kind that arrives after an influencer’s post goes viral, drawn not by hunger or curiosity, but by the need to check off another destination from an ever-growing list of must-tries.
I was happy for the place. It was full. Thriving. But I knew the relationship had shifted.
My old reliable friend had become famous. And famous things, no matter how wonderful, are rarely as good once they know they’re being watched.
I walked away. Phone in hand. Stomach grumbling. Left hangry.
I wanted to believe I could just stumble upon something great. But in the end, I was back to scrolling through ratings, looking for a sure thing.
Another decision outsourced. Another personal discovery lost to the collective.
What This Has to Do with Wine
This is what’s happening in wine, too.
We overthink. We let reviews dictate our expectations, focusing on the result rather than the journey.
Are we drinking for the experience—or just to make sure we made the right choice?
That bottle sitting on your table has already traveled more than most people will in a year.
Our wines from Argentina, before they arrive at our warehouse in the U.S., have covered more than 6,000 miles. All with a purpose. A sense of discovery.
And you’ve trusted our selections through nearly 26 collections we’ve carefully curated.
Each bottle is more than just a label or a score. It carries its own journey—just like the experiences we chase.
Yes, our wines are curated. But not by trends or algorithms.
They’re chosen by human hands. By experience. By stories worth telling.
Not for mass appeal—but for those willing to step off the well-worn path.
On Intuition and Time
Henri Bergson, the French philosopher, spoke of intuition as the key to true understanding—a force that can’t be measured by logic alone. He believed life isn’t meant to be rigidly mapped out, but felt, experienced in motion.
Maybe that’s what we’re losing.
Fad products don’t last. The market eventually filters them out. But the real stuff stands the test of time.
That’s why I’ll go back to the neighborhood barber.
To the century-old winery.
To the winemaker who doesn’t pay point scores any mind.
The restaurant? I’m not so sure.
The line outside tells me most of those people are there for a one-time experience. They’ll check it off their list and move on.
That’s the problem with hype and reviews. They push away the real customer—the one who might have returned week after week. Instead, they attract a crowd that leaves feeling tricked, let down by the lack of real discovery.
Maybe I’ll come back in a year and see how things have evolved.
Some Things Should Be Found, Not Fed to You
It’s the same with wine.
True enjoyment comes from the journey, not just the destination. That’s the difference between a fleeting trend and something that stays with you.
Some things deserve to be discovered, not dictated.
Santé,
Diego Samper
P.S.
If you’ve stumbled upon a restaurant worth keeping a secret, had a haircut that made you question your life choices, or opened a bottle of wine that made you pause a second longer than usual—I want to hear about it.
Hit reply or click here and let me know.
Especially if it’s all three.
