http://www.mensvogue.com/food/cellar/articles/2008/09/billionaire-winos
Billionaire WinosTheir
tasting notes would make Robert Parker blush, their thirst would choke
a camel, and their pinkies — and noses — are decidedly not in the air.
Glass of 1914 Pol Roger, anyone? By Jay McInerney
September 2008
A
new breed of wine traders likes to open Champagne — and make money —
the old-fashioned way: with swashbuckling, no-holds-barred style.
(Photo: James Wojcik)
Big
Boy is standing in the middle of the dining room at Manhattan's
three-star Cru restaurant, waving a saber, demanding that everyone shut
up and pay attention. It's not easy to shut this crowd up — they've
been drinking really expensive wine for four hours, and the adrenaline
of big spending is in the air. But Big Boy, aka Rob Rosania, is more
than capable of shouting down a roomful of buzzed alpha males. It's his
party, and his magnum is bigger than anyone else's magnum. He didn't
build a billion-dollar real estate empire by acting like a pussy.
Signature sunglasses planted in his curly, dark mane, he's wearing a
natty blue Kiton windowpane sports jacket over an open white shirt
showing plenty of chest hair, and while he doesn't actually pound his
chest, he often gives the impression that he's about to. He's in the
process of selling off $5 million worth of his wine cellar to the
assembled company — plus a few absentee bidders — and even though there
are 40 or 50 more lots to go, he wants to celebrate.
After commanding the attention of the room, Rosania hoists a jeroboam
of 1945 Bollinger for all to see. Then he lowers the enormous bottle
and props it at a 45-degree angle as he prepares to saber it — the most
dramatic and traditional method of opening Champagne, certainly no less
than a $10,000 bottle deserves, and one that Rosania has perfected in
the several years he's been collecting. For some reason this particular
jero (11 more are in the auction) is not cooperating, and it takes Big
Boy a few whacks to decapitate it, but no matter. A cheer goes up as
the top of the bottle goes flying, and within minutes we're all
drinking Bollinger made from grapes that were hanging on their vines
when the allies stormed Omaha Beach.
"Shut the fuck up, and let's finish this," says John Kapon, standing a
few feet above the crowd, pounding his gavel on the podium like a judge
addressing an unruly courtroom. Kapon is the 36-year-old president of
Acker Merrall & Condit, which bills itself as America's oldest wine
store and has, under his watch, become the world's leading vendor of
fine wine at auction. It's not often that you hear an auctioneer
address a roomful of well-heeled bidders this way — it's hard to
imagine Sotheby's urbane, British-born Jamie Ritchie doing so — but
Kapon knows most of the 70 men in the room personally, and the very few
women in attendance are accustomed to the high-testosterone world of
competitive oenophilia. Page 1 of 8 >
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