Bordeaux 2024 Primeurs: Margaux
I swung the wheel round and piloted the Fiat 500 into the car park at Château Margaux, just in time for my first appointment in a day of visits in this appellation. Having brought the little motor to a stop I hopped out, quickly followed by the physical manifestation of Taylor Swift, who had swapped her sparkly blue leotard for a blood-red corseted mini-dress previously worn on the red carpet of the 2025 Emmys, matched with a pair of strappy red sandals.
At least that’s probably when it last appeared; it’s not like I’m an expert or anything.
Next out of the car was Aubrey Ealdwyn de Latour, and being a pellucid wraith I didn’t really expect Aubrey to have changed his attire. I mean, did we expect the nine Nazgûl in the service of Sauron to suddenly turn up to the Battle of Morannon at the Black Gate of Mordor wearing Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops? No, exactly. And true to form, Aubrey was wearing the same elegant attire as he had when he joined us for our tour of St Julien; a sculpted overcoat, cashmere scarf and fedora, all immaculately tailored and painstakingly presented.
And Twingo? He appeared to be wearing the body of a Fiat 500. Quite a feat.
Me? Oh the usual, slightly tired shirt with sleeves rolled up, matt blue jeans, and some rugged grey sneakers I originally bought to remain sure-footed when out walking in the vines, but which now never seem to leave my feet, and which appear increasingly tatty. Thanks for asking.
I’m hoping this primeurs coverage will gain me two new subscribers, so I can afford a new pair of vineyard shoes.
“A perfect place to start,” opined Aubrey, his words shaking me out of my silent new-shoe dream. I could see his eyes drinking in the vision before him, his gaze tracing out every finely dressed stone which makes up Margaux’s majestic and many-pillared portico. “Of course,” he continued, “I have been coming here for quite a while; the very first time I came it was Pierre Moreau running the property on behalf of the Pillet-Will family, during the Interbellum, but later it was run by a committee, and after that was when the Ginestets acquired it.”
Aubrey clearly knew his Bordeaux history; I wonder where he gets that from?
“I used to stay here from time to time – the Pillet-Wills were good friends of mine – that was my room, up there, top left, but I watched the estate decline during the years that followed, and eventually I stopped coming. How is it doing these days?” he enquired.
“Better,” I answered, in a slightly peremptory manner, having just noticed Aubrey’s rather ghostly shoes which, unlike mine which were fraying to the point one had developed a quite obvious hole in the upper part, were absolutely immaculate. “Let’s go taste.”
I opened the door to the bureau, and crossed the threshold.
-o-
Inside I met Alexis Mentzelopoulos, the son of proprietor Corinne Mentzelopoulos, who like his sister is increasingly involved with the day-to-day operations on the estate, along with their technical director Philippe Bascaules. We went up to the tasting room above the cellars, where I took a seat at the table, while Taylor, who had accompanied us inside, perched on the far end, her legs swinging slightly in the air. Aubrey hovered nearby.
