| | | August horoscopes, summer wines and more in this week's Lenny. | | | | | | | | | |  | | | | August 1, 2017 | Letter No. 97 | | | | | |  | | | | | | | Dear Lennys,
I'm having a week: I have strep throat, my baby has strep throat, my husband has strep throat, and it turns out my older daughter is the Typhoid Mary that brought it into the house, all the while showing no symptoms, skipping around, right as rain. A bunch of other shit went wrong — picayune and major — and I was starting to feel like I was born under a bad sign, until I read Melissa Broder's August horoscopes and realized that all is not out of hand. As she sagely tells me and my fellow Pisces: "It's literally impossible to control what everyone thinks of you. This is more great news for your freedom."
Also in today's fantastic Lenny:
—Did ya know that there are only a few other species of animals — other than humans — that go into menopause? Well, now you know, because Ferris Jabr breaks it down for us. Read which animals are getting hot flashes here.
—Melissa Broder's aforementioned August horoscopes will expand your mind, open your soul, and inspire you to be your own crush.
—Morgan Jerkins writes beautifully about the tension she feels around gaining prominence as a black journalist covering police brutality. As she puts it, she realized anger was a form of currency, but it also took a toll on her body and mind.
—Lena interviews Nancy Northup, the president of the Center for Reproductive Rights, along with her daughter, Natalie Northup Bergner, about their faith and its relationship to the social-justice work they do. We're also selling some fantastic T-shirts, pins, and other sundries to benefit the Center and all its amazing work.
—And finally, Marissa A. Ross from Bon Appétit gives us a guide to choosing a summer wine that will take you through the dog days of August.
We are also looking for a new senior-level editor with a focus in fashion, beauty, and culture, as we're bidding our beloved, incomparable, cool as hell Laia Garcia goodbye. More on that broad in later issues, but if you're interested in the role, hit us up at jobs@lennyletter.com with the subject line "SENIOR EDITOR." Full job description is at the bottom of this issue.
Here's to a better week to come,
Jess Grose, editor in chief | | | | | | | | | | | | Do Orcas Have Hot Flashes? | | | | By Ferris Jabr | | |
Though she was 41, nearing the end of a typical lifespan for a lowland gorilla, Alpha still had a lot of youthful exuberance — especially around a silverback named Ramar. In the early 2000s at Chicago's Brookfield Zoo, Alpha would often strut and purse her lips, gaze at Ramar for long periods of time, toss hay into his face, and try to sit in his lap. Alpha's caretakers considered giving her contraceptives. At her age, a pregnancy might have endangered both mother and baby. But was Alpha even capable of becoming pregnant? Gorillas in captivity tended to live longer than those in the wild, but they rarely reproduced after their late 30s.
Did gorillas, like humans, go through menopause?
To find out, two researchers associated with Brookfield Zoo, Sylvia Atsalis and Sue Margulis, studied the hormonal cycles of 22 elderly female gorillas at seventeen zoos across North America. Twenty-three percent were menopausal: They completely lacked typical cycles of the hormone progestogen, which is important for mating, menstruation, and pregnancy. Another 32 percent, including Alpha, had irregular cycles and were transitioning into menopause. "As our closest living relatives, great apes likely experience behavioral and physiological patterns associated with reproductive aging and menopause that are similar to human patterns," the researchers wrote.
Defined broadly, menopause is the programmed end of fertility in a female animal. Human women, of course, are well aware that their fertility will decline with age and cease after a certain point, typically around age 50. In the animal kingdom at large, however, menopause is an oddity — and a long-standing evolutionary mystery. An organism's ultimate goal is reproduction. Why sacrifice that consummate purpose? Even more puzzling, why would an animal naturally become infertile and then go on living for years? Throughout history, scientists have proffered numerous theories. But studying the biological phenomenon of menopause is difficult, in part because it seems to be so rare.
Many animals live short lives in which they quickly produce large numbers of progeny and then expire. Think of the ephemeral mayfly, one species of which lives only five minutes in its adult egg-laying form. Or Amazonian frogs that mate so vigorously during brief bouts of "explosive breeding" that they often kill one another. Or salmon that start deteriorating as soon as they have spawned. Certain animals, notably some birds and mammals, have evolved the opposite strategy, having just a few offspring in their lifetimes and devoting considerable energy to each. In these slow-and-steady species, menopause occasionally emerges. Although a few studies state that all sorts of animals — such as rodents, dogs, rabbits, quail, and livestock — go through menopause, other scientists debate the validity of these claims, citing a paucity of rigorous research. There is more compelling evidence of menopause in primates raised in captivity. In zoos, where they are well-fed and protected from poaching and predators, several primate species, including gorillas, chimpanzees, and orangutans, eventually reach an age at which they naturally stop ovulating. In the wild, however, they rarely survive that long. Only three species are definitively known to routinely live for decades in their natural habitats following menopause: humans, short-finned pilot whales, and orcas.
The question, then, is why. Recent research on orcas, based on more than four decades of data, is providing new insight. It appears that menopause has less to do with the biology of individuals than the structure of their societies.
The fundamental unit of orca society is the matriline, which consists of a matriarch — a grandmother or great-grandmother — and her descendants. Matriarchs and their offspring remain together throughout their lives. Sometimes several matrilines, each consisting of about six to twelve individuals, travel together as a pod. Although adult males routinely disperse to mate with unrelated individuals in other pods, they always return to their native matriline. In the wild, males usually die around age 30, but female orcas can live to 90 or older. Yet they stop having children by about age 40. Female orcas have the longest post-reproductive life span of any nonhuman animal.
Since the 1970s, various teams of biologists have been studying two resident populations of about 380 orcas in a coastal swath of the Pacific Ocean ranging from Alaska to Vancouver Island. The scientists stay on the water for weeks at a time, photographing orcas from the decks of boats and sometimes filming them underwater. By cataloging photos of unique pigmentation patterns around the orcas' fins, as well as accumulated nicks and scars, the researchers have identified nearly every member of the Northern and Southern Resident Killer Whales, as they are known, and documented their evolving relationships.
The resident orcas specialize in hunting Chinook salmon. Orca matriarchs use decades of experience and knowledge to guide their family to the best hunting grounds, especially in times of hardship, when salmon is less abundant than usual. Although pod members share the day's catch, individuals are technically competing for a limited resource. There are only so many fish to go around, and different members of the pod have different loyalties.
In a recent study analyzing foraging behavior among orcas in the Pacific Northwest, scientists observed that young mothers primarily shared food with their offspring and their sisters, whereas post-reproductive females favored their eldest sons. On the whole, adult females were the most generous, sharing more than 90 percent of their catches, whereas adult males shared only a quarter of theirs. Male orcas remain dependent on their mothers and grandmothers throughout life, often hanging close to them on hunting expeditions. When an elderly female dies, her son's risk of dying the following year increases by three to fourteen times, depending on their respective ages.
The immense caretaking burden placed on the backs of orca matriarchs makes it difficult for them to keep reproducing. If an elderly female were to bear calves, she would have to catch enough salmon to feed herself, her adult sons, and her newest children, which would put her in intense competition with younger mothers and their children. Apparently, such a level of family conflict is unsustainable — even lethal.
In a study published earlier this year, behavioral ecologist Darren Croft of Exeter University and his colleagues performed a statistical analysis on 42 years of data concerning the social lives of the Northwest's resident orcas. They concluded that calves born to older females are 1.67 times more likely to die before age fifteen than those with young mothers. It appears to be much more advantageous for older females to stop reproducing altogether and instead focus on keeping their existing children and grandchildren alive. In particular, by helping adult males thrive — so that they are healthy enough to venture off and father children in other pods — an orca matriarch can continue spreading her genes without adding new calves to an already overcrowded family.
Elephants make an interesting contrast. Like orcas, elephants are large, intelligent, social mammals that live cooperatively in matrilines, guided by the ecological wisdom of elderly females. But unlike orcas, elephants exclude adult males, who wander the savannah on their own, mingling in fraternities and returning to the female social groups only to mate. Whereas female orcas are infertile around age 40, elephant matriarchs can continue reproducing at least through their mid-60s. It seems that removing males from a female-led society — essentially relegating them to the role of external reproductive organs — obviates so much family conflict that grandmothers no longer have to sacrifice ongoing motherhood.
The new research on orcas dovetails with an idea known as the grandmother hypothesis, which proposes that a long post-menopausal life emerged in humans following a key ecological shift in our lineage. Kristen Hawkes, a University of Utah anthropologist, conceived the grandmother hypothesis in 1997, building on earlier work by biologists George Williams and William Hamilton. Millions of years ago, she explains, when our ancestors transitioned from the forests to the savannas, they began to rely on foods that young children could not acquire themselves, such as deeply buried tubers. Older women whose fertility was fading found a new important social role: helping to feed their grandchildren, which freed up their daughters to have more children sooner than would otherwise be possible.
Although many people mistakenly think that the grandmother hypothesis frames menopause itself as a uniquely human adaptation, Hawkes does not see it that way. Menopause, she says in an interview, would probably occur in any primate that managed to survive to old age. Rather, it is a long and productive life following menopause that distinguishes humans — and at least two whale species — from all other menopausal animals. Which raises a few unresolved questions: namely, how common is menopause? Is it a rare adaptation found in just a few species, as has often been said, or is it an inevitable outcome of aging for all primates, perhaps even all mammals?
If the latter is true, then the lives of post-menopausal matriarchs, human and whale, are all the more radical. For the vast majority of species, the end of fertility is the end of a purposeful existence. If your gametes aren't viable, neither is your life. But human and whale grandmothers prove that's not true, that menopause is not so much an ending as it is a rebellious beginning — the unfolding of a new chapter in life inked with the requisite wisdom to keep entire societies alive and thriving.
This story is a collaboration with Topic, a new storytelling site with a different theme every month. In August, it's all about Female Trouble — sign up for the newsletter to receive original stories and more.
Ferris Jabr is a writer based in Portland, Oregon. He has written for The New York Times Magazine, Scientific American, Outside, and Slate. | | | | | | | | | | | | Be Your Own Crush | | | | By Melissa Broder | | |
LEO
(July 23 to August 22)
Happy birthday, Leo! As a gift, look up the Billboard top hits for every year you were in middle school. Even if you mostly preferred older music, or not-pop, there are going to be some favorites there. Select your favs and make a playlist, remembering how music once saved your ass. It still does. Listen to and from work.
VIRGO
(August 23 to September 22)
Being your own best friend is hard as shit, except for some people to whom it comes easy (if that's you, then go ahead and ignore this month, because you're doing better than I am). But to those for whom the jargon of self-love feels disgusting and impossible: What if you tried switching out what you are to yourself? I don't know how to be my own mommy, but I'm maybe learning how to be my own daughter a little. Could you be your own crush? Your own patient?
LIBRA
(September 23 to October 22)
Save your imagination for your own life. If you're trying hard to interpret what people are saying versus what you wish they were really saying, take them only at face value — not based on what you hope for. If you need more, I suggest a beautiful imaginary friend.
SCORPIO
(October 23 to November 21)
If you always masturbate to the same thing, then try masturbating to something different this month. If you always masturbate to a new thing every time, then try keeping the same fantasy in rotation for more than a few sessions. If you don't masturbate at all, I encourage you to start. If you feel like masturbation is the only pleasure you have in life, maybe try taking 30 days off as an experiment … or three.
SAGITTARIUS
(November 22 to December 21)
Directions: Apply a small amount of meditation upon waking, prior to going online, and gently massage into soul. Focus on third-eye area, avoiding the immediate return to reality. Repeat daily for one week.
CAPRICORN
(December 22 to January 19)
Players do not only love you when they're playing, they also love you when you have finally set a boundary that they fear is impenetrable and they are trying to get back in. Be aware of that this month with anyone from your past or present with whom you have chosen to have little or no contact. They haven't really changed.
AQUARIUS
(January 20 to February 18)
This month, don't rely on anyone else's stash. You have to rely on your own shit. If your shit seems shitty or subpar, remember that half of what's delicious in America is advertising and marketing anyway. Lie to yourself. Tell yourself you would never want anyone else's shit in place of your own. Do it until you believe it. You're already lying to yourself anyway by telling yourself that anyone else's shit is actually better.
PISCES
(February 19 to March 20)
The bad news is that everyone is mostly thinking about themselves. The great news is that everyone is mostly thinking about themselves! This means you are free to live in the world without trying to control what others think of you, because even if they are judging you, it's likely based on something that has to do more with them than you. Also, it's literally impossible to control what everyone thinks of you. This is more great news for your freedom.
ARIES
(March 21 to April 19)
The thing about your heroes is that if you meet them in real life, you may not even really like them. I mean, you might, but I'm sure they have some annoying qualities, like being self-righteous or closed-minded to certain ideas or expecting you to text back right away whenever they text. The nice thing about this is it means we are all human and basically anyone you see walking around in front of you on the street is not that far removed from your heroes.
TAURUS
(April 20 to May 20)
Do you know how cacti stay alive? I don't, but I think we both should learn, because cacti, it seems, are great at getting their needs met on very little resources. Also, they appear to have very strong boundaries, given those spikes, which might also have something to do with how well they are able to flourish in tough conditions.
GEMINI
(May 21 to June 20)
This month, don't try to get away with anything. Don't park in any tow-away zones. Don't steal sugars from Starbucks. Don't lie to your friends. Don't pretend you like anything you hate. I'm not saying this because the stars are setting out to punish you or get you caught. I'm saying it because it's always an interesting experiment to see what we get when we don't fake anyone out.
CANCER
(June 21 to July 22)
This is a reminder that the elements of yourself you are most afraid to reveal — that you fear would make you unseemly — might actually be the most lovable things about you. Think of people you love. It's not the "perfect" ones you're into but the ones whose cracks allow the mess to seep out. No one wants to make out with a castle wall.
Melissa Broder is the author of four collections of poems, including Last Sext (Tin House 2016), as well as So Sad Today, a book of essays from Grand Central. | | | | | | | | | | | | How I Overcame My Anger as a Black Writer Online | | | | By Morgan Jerkins | | |
Anger and a keyboard jump-started my writing career. My voice surfaced the moment I logged on to Twitter and saw the corpse of Michael Brown lying in a Ferguson, Missouri, street for hours. The horrific image circulated on my feed for days, and even though I had been a Twitter user for over two years, this was the first time I felt compelled to comment on current events in real time. I assumed that public lynchings were a thing of the past, something my ancestors had fought to end. Not knowing where else to turn, I voiced the pain I felt as a black person in the many threads spreading across Twitter.
All of a sudden, there seemed to be an explosion of young black writers online, and I was in the midst of it all. I felt legitimate and powerful when my tweets were retweeted within a matter of seconds. And soon, my outspoken posts paid off: I began receiving emails from white editors commissioning stories about black suffering and trauma. They needed me. No longer could they depend on their white colleagues to talk about lived experiences that did not apply to them. Racial tensions had reached feverish heights, and I capitalized on this moment — one I believed to be ephemeral — as a career opportunity.
I started what would become a very strict and exhaustive work cycle: Every Sunday, I would write up five story ideas on police brutality and the associative trauma, and then pitch them out Monday morning. Most weeks, I was turning around one or two pieces, and after a short while, more and more editors would come to me when another police officer shot and killed a black person. I often wondered if the body was even cold yet when I received another assignment in my inbox.
But it didn't matter. I accepted every task that came my way. My outrage was immediately channeled into words. There was no mental processing if it was not geared toward work.
From my own quaint bedroom, I could make my voice heard to hundreds of people. And when a verified Twitter user retweeted me, my words reached thousands. I could receive dozens of new followers in under two hours. I was formidable. My words were my own form of resistance, and I realized that my anger could be a form of currency: more bylines, money, contacts, influence. All of this was mine.
But when the assignments were done, when the direct deposit hit my account, I had to deal with the fact that my internal machine — both my mind and spirit — was beginning to char, inflamed by my inability to stop and process the events before channeling them into work. I felt elevated whenever I was published, but I could never shake the feeling that death loomed over my head every time I wrote. I feared that I was only valuable when I was producing. My anger and disillusionment worked beautifully on the page, and friends and followers praised me for my vulnerability, but no one knew that my work and the brutality surrounding it was peeling away at me from all sides.
Over time, my physical body staged its own resistance: When I sat down to type, my hands began to tremble. Pressing the keys proved to be a challenge. I would take deep breaths and discover that my whole body was unsteady. If I closed my eyes, I did not see darkness but streaks of light, each one emitting a different color along the spectrum of my fury. There was no "off" button — not when I finished writing a piece, not when I logged off Twitter, not when I shut down my computer.
My anger even transformed into disturbing dreams. I would see the ghostly figures of slain black people hovering over me, or find myself running from something unknown, my face tear-streaked. My own body would disintegrate in these dreams: teeth and hair falling out, nails breaking off, skin shedding. I would wake up with my heart racing, ears ringing, throat dry and sore. Other nights, I would lie awake, my eyes ricocheting around the room, disoriented. Sometimes I would count down from twenty or try labored breathing to calm myself. Most times, I would turn on the television so that the sounds would distract me enough to fall back asleep.
Whatever softness I once had in my personality felt stripped away, like bare electrical wire.
I started attending low-cost therapy sessions. For the first couple of weeks, I talked about the usual things: my dating woes, my inability to express what I really wanted, my relationship with my father. But after a few months, we dug deeper. Once we did, my tears cracked through the surface. It was there, in that narrow room in a hospital in New York City's Union Square, that I admitted the feeling that had been eating away at my foundation: "If I stopped writing, I'm not sure if anyone would care about me," I told the doctoral student. "If I don't keep producing, will I lose my value?" The confession carried many different threads: capitalism versus human value, workaholism, the fear of anonymity. I had been playing into the expectation that, as a black woman, I needed to be "strong" and work like a mule until I had nothing else to give, not even to myself.
When I stepped out of the hospital, I felt drunk. My posture was lax and my gait was uneven. I placed sunglasses over my face and took the train home, where I collapsed on my bed. I don't remember what I dreamed that day, but I know it wasn't a nightmare. When I woke up, my body felt lighter.
My therapist taught me that before I spoke to an audience of thousands or millions, my first audience should be myself. Even though writing was my livelihood, I would not be able to enjoy the recognition I received if I downplayed my toxic emotions. I needed to assess myself in the context of who I was with writing and not only through it. Not everything needed to be about violence and suffering.
I started keeping a journal, closing my eyes and meditating on the train, praying with consistency. I realized that not every racist event in the news should command my attention. I have the authority to say "no" to an assignment if my heart is not in it, if I'm too tired, or if I simply don't want to. This mentality did not come easily: Whenever I said "no," whenever I turned off the news, I would repeat to myself, "You are not a bad person. You are not a mule. Choose the subjects to which you will devote your energy because you cannot do it all. You will not be able to continue doing what you love if you are not healthy."
This mantra has helped me write with more balance and control. I still channel my anger through work, but that anger remains on the page — it does not manipulate my inner life. I know when to take a step back so that I can keep living and do the work that I need to do. If I feel my blood pressure rising when a piece of news breaks on Twitter, I give myself five or ten minutes before logging off so I don't get riled up.
I remember the insomnia I experienced when I didn't have the strength to turn away, the frightening dreams I had when I didn't allow myself the space to breathe and reflect, and the disillusionment I felt about my worth as a black woman in America. Technology is a hyperbolic space; content, especially when it relates to the news, moves so quickly. And I have an obligation to myself to slow down so that, when the time comes, I have the stamina to propel my voice forward.
Morgan Jerkins's debut essay collection, This Will Be My Undoing, is forthcoming from Harper Perennial. | | | | | | | | | | | | Supporting Reproductive Rights When You're a Person of Faith | | | | By Lena Dunham | | | |
When I was sixteen years old and a babysitter mostly in it for the snacks, I didn't understand how important Nancy Northup was or would be to my future. I knew she seemed tough and high-powered. I knew her children were adorable and didn't give me too much trouble. And I knew I liked eating her crackers and cheese.
I didn't, however, know that as the head of the Center for Reproductive Rights, Nancy would someday be at the forefront of a fight I wanted desperately to support: the fight to keep abortion safe and legal for women everywhere. While the Center may not have the immediate name recognition of Planned Parenthood, it's just as essential, pushing back against the laws that act as barriers between women and their rights.
So we at Lenny wanted to organize a sale of some sweet, stylin' merch to remind you, every damned day, what you're fighting for. Click here to check it out. Maybe you're just in it for the sassy Grace Miceli designs, or maybe you're as impressed with Nancy and her daughter Natalie and their passion for women's rights as I am, but either way we hope you'll indulge in a hat, pin, tee, or all three. All profits from the sale will benefit the Center.
Lena Dunham: What does the Center for Reproductive Rights do? I feel like everyone's heard of it, but they don't understand the very unique things that you do that are separate from what Planned Parenthood and the ACLU do.
Nancy Northup: The Center for Reproductive Rights works to ensure that access to reproductive health services and women's decision-making about their reproductive health is protected by law, as a fundamental human right by governments all over the world. We make sure that legal rights are in place so that women in the U.S., in Latin America, in Africa, Asia, Europe, have access to reproductive health care.
LD: Natalie, what was your awareness growing up of the challenges that were facing women in their reproductive health?
Natalie Northup Bergner: Growing up, I was pretty aware of what was going on in our country for women. I remember my mom enthusiastically teaching us about reproductive health care and sex education in the house. I think it just made me more aware of the challenges that women face in our world.
LD: Now that you're doing rabbinical work, do you feel like there's a place in that field of study for thinking about women's health care and rights?
NNB: Definitely. I think the more progressive or liberal movements in Judaism are aware of the importance of reproductive health care and are making pushes for reproductive health care. For example, the Jewish Theological Seminary participated in the Women's March in January, and I think the reform movement was also participating in the march.
LD: Nancy, how does having a daughter inform the way you do your work?
NN: My mother was very pro–reproductive rights. So, having a daughter, it's very important to me that the next generation of women have the same rights protected that we do and that we work on getting past the fact that it's been 44 years since the Roe v. Wade decision and it's been 57 years since the Pill went on the market, but we're still fighting about women's abilities to control their bodies, and their lives, and their sexuality.
I really hope that my when my grandchildren grow up, that we're not still fighting about this issue. Natalie's generation is very much on the forefront of being open about their health issues, about their reproductive health issues, about their sexual health issues, and I'm hoping that this will be a turning point so that we're not here 25 years from now having the same conversation.
LD: I've heard that there's been a massive uptick of women who are asking for IUDs because they're going, "I need birth control that's going to last me the next four years or eight years. I don't know what this period of time is going to look like." Nancy, you were saying you both had your own IUD stories and relationships to this particular device. Can you tell me about that?
NN: My mother actually was an early adopter. She got an IUD pretty soon after they went on the market in the early 1960s. Planned Parenthood was making a presentation at the Unitarian church in Rochester about this new device, and my mother went home and said, "I am calling Planned Parenthood and getting an IUD." It was around 1962, when less than 1 percent of women were using IUDs.
After my son was born in 1994, I got an IUD, and only 1 percent of women were using IUDs in 1994. So even though it was 30 years after when my mom got her IUD, they still had a pretty low prevalence rate in the United States.
NNB: Growing up, my mom talked about the IUD an odd amount. I was so defensive of the IUD. I always had friends who talked about it in this horrible way, about how it was dangerous, or weird, or only women in Europe used it, and I would tell them all the facts about how great IUDs are.
I got one three years ago now and had an amazing experience getting it. I went to a great clinic in Colorado and had two of my best friends go with me. I remember it being this bonding moment.
LD: You both have a relationship with religion: Natalie, you've been studying to become a rabbi, and Nancy, you're an active Unitarian Universalist. As two women who are both deeply involved in religion and deeply involved with this fight for justice, how would you talk to people who are using religion as their sticking point for not allowing women access to the kind of care that they need?
NN: When people object to either access to safe abortion or access to the use of contraceptives like IUDs, often those are religiously based [beliefs]. There's not a religious perspective and a nonreligious perspective; there's a variety of religious beliefs around not just the use of contraception, but also about women's sexuality, about women's role in the world. To not understand that folks are advocating for their particular religious beliefs in public policy, I think is wrong.
I make it clear when I am talking to other people of faith who have different religious beliefs, that my religious beliefs deserve the same respect as [theirs]. I come from a religious-based tradition that supports the equality of women and supports their decisions about reproductive health care. I think the media has portrayed this as a secular-versus-religious debate, and it's not. There are people of good faith on all sides of this issue.
This interview has been condensed and edited.
Lena Dunham was actually a pretty rad babysitter. | | | | | | | | | | | | How to Choose Your Ideal Summer Wine | | | | By Marissa A. Ross | | |
I love summer. The smell of wet grass and warm concrete, the shower after swimming in the ocean all day. My grandmother's house, dripping in bougainvillea and carpeted in rosemary. Playing cards after swim-team practice, chlorine drying on our skin while we sipped lemonade. I didn't think it was possible to bottle any of those things until I started getting into wine. Honestly, it may be the reason I'm a wine writer. Because a glass of wine can not only transport you back to the beach the summer before high school, it can capture the afternoon glow today. Like, right now.
But even when the livin' is easy, buying wine can be hard. From the endless bottles to the indecipherable labels to the anxiety of asking for help when you have no idea how to pronounce anything, it can be intimidating. It doesn't have to be. All you need is a local wine shop and some helpful hints from yours truly. Trust me, if I can go from struggling comedian drinking exclusively $3 cabernet to writing about wine professionally for Bon Appétit, you can buy yourself a fantastic bottle of wine this summer (and the rest of the year).
Keep It Light
An Argentinean Malbec may be great with dinner in December, but no one wants to drink a big, hot-ass wine on a hot-ass day. Stick to wines that are light in body and high in acidity so they are tart and refreshing, rather than bold wines that are heavier than the humidity you're battling. Which brings me to the next tip:
Take a Look at ABV
There may be a lot of confusing information on a wine's label, but there is one thing you will always be able to find: the alcohol by volume (ABV). Wine labels are required by law to list the ABV, and they can tell you more about a wine than just how drunk it'll get you. The higher the ABV, the riper the grapes were when they were picked and the richer the wine will be. The lower the ABV, the lighter the body. For summer wines, you want to look for wines with lower ABV percentages, ideally under 12.5 percent. Also, let's be real, the lower the alcohol, the better for day drinking. No one needs to be trashed by two on a Saturday afternoon. Wines like vinho verde, txakoli, and grüner veltliner are all great (and super-affordable) options.
Keep Climate in Mind
Talking climate isn't just for politics, it's also for picking wines. Warm climates produce wines that are riper, with more sugar and less acidity, whereas cool climates produce wines that are more tart and acidic. Acidity is that sour sensation a wine gives you; it leaves your mouth watering for more. Think of it as the lemonade quality of a wine, and there's a reason lemonade is so popular in the summer. Because it's acidic and subsequently really fucking refreshing!
Stray From Rosé
Look, I'm not asking you to give up rosé forever. I'm not even asking you to give it up for a whole weekend! All I'm saying is that there is a lot of wine out there that isn't pink and is still very delicious. If you need rosé rehab, wean yourself off summer water with light reds like gamay, cinsault, or zweigelt.
Chill Out
Whatever wine it is, chill it! Yes, even reds! Not only because it's hot outside (and perhaps even worse inside), but chilling wine tightens its flavors and acidity, making them crisper and more energetic-tasting.
When in Doubt: BUBBLES
Bringing a bottle of bubbly is like turning up the volume on the stereo; no matter how many people are there, suddenly it feels like a party. Not only is it festive, but sparkling wines are very food-friendly, from snacking on crudités at a picnic to chowing down on cheeseburgers.
If just the thought of sparkling wine gives you a headache, try pétillant naturel. Most sparkling wines go through two fermentations. During the first fermentation, the yeast eats the sugar and converts it to alcohol. Winemakers then put that base wine through a second fermentation, adding more yeast and sugar to create carbonation. The problem is many people are sensitive to the extra yeast and sugar. But with pétillant naturel, winemakers bottle the wine halfway through its first fermentation so it creates bubbles naturally, without any of the extra stuff or the midday hangover.
DRINK WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT
I'm not here to stop you from drinking a heavy-ass syrah in August if that's what you really want to do. Because at the end of the very Instagrammable sunset, the only thing that really matters when it comes to wine is that you enjoy it.
Marissa A. Ross is the wine editor for Bon Appétit Magazine and the author of the new book Wine. All The Time.: The Casual Guide to Confident Drinking.
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