Most holidays begin with an earlier than dawn start, and a mimosa. On the plane, beach, or on a terrace overlooking Paris, mimosa’s are the universal alcoholic signal for the world-is-my-oyster-and-you-can’t-do-a-damn-thing-about-it.
Throughout the years I’ve learned that every-day celebrations are as important as the big stuff; getting through a horrible week, kicking off a snow-day in bed, saying adieu to a horribly unsatisfying lover, and perhaps even being able to walk the grass in your bare feet without being on the clock.
In all of these instances I believe that wise women keep a bottle of champagne well-chilled at the back of the fridge.
About a year ago, maybe two, I pulled out my emergency bottle of bubbles, and noticed that the gold was more golden, and the flavor a bit more luxe. What on earth could have changed about my favourite bubbly (which is actually Cava, not Champagne)?
What had changed was I was living too fast, too focused on fulfilling the needs of others rather than myself. My little bottle of bubbly had been waiting ever so patiently at the back of the fridge for well over a year. In other words, I was overdue for a little fete, a celebration of everyday miracles and blessings.
This week, my little bottle of bubbles and OJ were doing double duty. They eased me into a hot bath where I could safely let loose a flood of tears, and also toasted a fresh new beginning.
I know, I know darlings, I’ve often said that you can’t cry when you’re drinking champagne, but the truth is it happened to me. It wasn’t just champagne though, it was a mimosa.
When you’re crying and drinking a mimosa from a pretty flute, people think you are shedding tears of joy, celebrating, marking a miraculous milestone. This is a universal sanctioning of getting a little shit-faced without being judged. There’s orange juice in it after all. It’s practically breakfast.
So, when you want to toast some of the lessons you learned in the school of life, and they weren’t necessarily easy ones, try a mimosa. Bourbon may be king during the times when you want the world to know you’re tenacious as hell and will never surrender. Mimosas on the other hand, are the equivalent of giving the world a Tiffany clad middle finger.