Bormioli old-fashioned glasses are just right
When it comes to glassware, I am like Goldilocks. Every glass out there seems too big or too small; too light or too heavy; too ordinary or too ornamented.
And then there’s the complexities of the interface.
The glass itself can’t be so rustic that the rim feels unpleasantly robust at your lips, so precious that you can’t put it in the dishwasher, or so fine that you worry you’re going to break it by picking it up in one hand.
This extreme state of pickiness has led to a prolonged crisis of the kitchen cupboard variety at our house.
A dearth of acceptable drinking glasses has largely been kept at bay with flea market purchases of random glasses over the years. But glasses, particularly vintage ones, break and must be replaced.
And the whole mismatched thing, though cute, starts to lose its charm. Hence my lifelong search for a glass that somehow fits my bill.
This personal quest for the perfect glass memorably came to an end in Bogota, of all places, at the bar at the Four Seasons hotel. I know that it was New Year’s Day, which was how we ended up at the Four Seasons, since virtually everywhere else in the city was closed.
I became fixated with the glasses at our table, which looked cool and refreshing even before our waiter filled them with ice
I also recall that we were all rather exhausted and hung over, having rung in the New Year drinking 23-year-old Zacapa and dancing under the stars to Justin Bieber with indefatigable Colombians till 3 a.m. at this notoriously fun place called Andrés, Carne de Res.
That we were so epically hung over had possibly put us in a reflective state wherein sense impressions were more magnified.
Regardless of how or why, I became fixated with the glasses at our table, which looked cool and refreshing even before our waiter filled them with ice.
I liked the lip of the glass, which was neither chunky nor delicate, but just right. I liked the way the glasses rounded in the middle so that they fit neatly in your palm yet stayed cool to the touch. With their sparkling faceted surface it was like drinking from a brilliant-cut diamond.
This being the age of being able to track down anything via the Internet, I turned over my glass to discover their maker was one Luigi Bormioli.
Later, at home, I learned that the Bormioli family still makes its glassware in Parma, Italy, the centre of Italian glassmaking since the Etruscans, and has done so since Mr. Bormioli founded his company in 1946.
I also learned that my glass, which is from the Prezioso collection, is lead-free, and thanks to the company’s proprietary Sparkx formula, will retain its clarity and brilliance through years of dishwashing cycles.
And then I learned that I could purchase a set of four at nordstrom.com. My kitchen cupboard is now perfectly co-ordinated.
And as suspected that New Year’s Day in Bogota, they really are the perfect drinking glass for everything from mere tap water to a bracing G&T. Karen von Hahn is a Toronto-based writer, trend observer and style commentator. Her new book, What Remains: Object Lessons in Love and Loss is published by the House of Anansi Press. Contact her at kvh@karenvonhahn.com.