Many years ago, I got two pieces of career advice especially for women. Both were questionable, and both have stuck with me for decades: 1. Never bring baked goods to the office. 2. Never wear pink to work.
The first was easy to obey. I’m not much of a baker. I’m much better at making a sauce, tossing in a pinch of this and a dab of that and stirring when it bubbles than I am at keeping the oven door closed to maintain constant temperature. The thinking behind this advice was that bringing treats to work makes a woman seem like a den mother rather than an alpha wolf. I’d rather skip dessert and drink wine anyway.
Avoiding pink is a question I’ve puzzled over for years. I was never prone to wear pink since I was often told that it didn’t suit my complexion. It seemed to embody the timidity of girlhood, so it was easy for me to resist. This was before modern interpretations transformed pink’s image. Before P!nk, the girl-power pop singer. Before Victoria’s Secret underpants spread “Love Pink” across young women’s backsides. Before pink became the official color of the fight against breast cancer.
There was one place where I embraced pink, and that was in my wine glass. I came of wine-drinking age as the great waves of white zinfandel were crashing across the American palate, so the shade colored my glass for more years than I’d like to admit. Eventually, I waded into the deep reds of cabernet sauvignon, the golden hues of pinot grigio and sauvignon blanc. Now I find myself happily awash in pink again, but this time, in the delicate tones of rosé. From the hint-of-color pinks of Austria to the blushing hues of Spain, rosés are everywhere.
U.S. sales of rosé are surging. Wine Spectator reported last year that nonrestaurant sales of rosés priced at more than $12 per bottle were up 33.6 percent over the previous year. Also, rosé exports from France’s prolific rosé-making region Provence to the U.S. grew 41 percent in 2012 over 2011.
Still, I’ve been shy about sharing my love of rosé. What if my pinkness were mistaken for weakness? I realized pink had turned a corner when my brother showed up for dinner with a bottle of crisp Monmousseau 2012 Rosé d’Anjou. When men eschew bold cabs for rosé, it means the wind has changed direction.
Since it’s Easter, and all manner of things will be clad in pink – from giant bunnies to little girls to hard-boiled eggs – it seems only fitting that we raise glasses full of rosé to toast how far pink has come. And come Monday, I’m wearing pink to the office.