
The Guardian view on France's wine crisis: the answer to claret could be clairet
This once timeless rhythm is now collapsing. Part of the problem is the climate crisis. Bordeaux still benefits from its moderate Atlantic climate. But south-west France is getting much hotter and drier. Even in the Gironde region, maximum temperatures have been close to 40C at times this past week. Adaptation, in the form of hardier grapes and greater crop diversity, feels unavoidable.
A much larger challenge, however, is today's changing wine market. Demand for red wine in general, and for the full-bodied, long maturing red wines with generally high alcohol content that are synonymous with Bordeaux in particular, has slumped. This has affected not just the signature premiers crus in which monarchs and the global rich have always invested, but also the vineyards producing the ordinary Bordeaux red wines sold in supermarkets around the globe. For a region whose wine output is 85% red, this is an existential crisis.
Bordeaux produces around 650m bottles of wine each year; but it currently sells only 500m. Demand for red wine in France has fallen by 38% in the past five years; in the 10 years to 2023 the fall was 45%. Nor is the slump confined to France. Demand in the Chinese market has halved since 2017. US tariffs will undoubtedly hit the 20% of Bordeaux exports that previously went across the Atlantic. These consumption changes are likely to be irreversible, at least in the short and medium term.
A popular response for many would be to slash prices. Global Bordeaux prices soared outrageously in the Chinese boom years. But with consumers turning away in droves, and too many producers operating at a loss, price cuts have not reshaped the market. With aid from the French government and the EU, about 15% of Bordeaux vineyards have instead been dug up and put to new uses, including olives and kiwifruit, since 2019.
In the nick of time, there is now a more traditional but also genuinely radical idea – to produce lighter and less tannic wines. History is on this idea's side. Bordeaux reds have been known for centuries in Britain as claret. But this much debated word dates from when England's Henry II and his descendants ruled in medieval Aquitaine. Back then, the reds of Bordeaux were often lighter, fresher wines known as clairet, somewhere between a modern red and a rosé, to be drunk young, which for the English meant soon after they arrived from their voyage from France.
Small amounts of clairet are still produced in parts of the Bordeaux region even now. Today there are moves to expand production with the aim of winning new consumers who have rejected heavier reds. Clairet's advocates say it should be drunk within a couple of years and should be drunk chilled. Traditional claret drinkers will upend their decanters in disgust. But clairet sounds just the thing to accompany a barbecue over a warm summer weekend.
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BBC News
an hour ago
- BBC News
Claire's was glitz 'heaven' for kids before Shein and TikTok came along
For Beth Searby, a Saturday as a teenager wasn't complete without going to Claire's with her that tweenage rite of passage looks uncertain as the future of the chain hangs in the and her friends would use their pocket money in the late noughties to buy magnetic earrings, badges and toe rings from the accessories brand."You never went home empty-handed," says Beth, now 30. Shopping there was like an "analogue Temu," she says."You could go in with your bits of change that you had left from buying your McDonald's or your Burger King and you could pick up a pair of earrings or a necklace or a badge to put on your school bag and you'd be spending 50p, £1, £2." Claire's has appointed administrators in the UK and Ireland after battling with falling sales and high competition. It said its 278 shops in the UK and 28 in Ireland would continue trading while it considered "the best possible path forward", but it's stopped online a US brand, Claire's opened its first UK store in the mid-90s and quickly became a mainstay among tweens who flocked there for affordable hair ties, glittery butterfly clips, matching friendship necklaces and lip gloss. "It was the ultimate shop for young people," says Ella Clancy, 29. She remembers using her pocket money to buy earrings, scrunchies and Lip Smacker lip balms from Claire's as a teenager. Particularly memorable are the so-called "nerd glasses" she and her friends got there - glasses with chunky, dark frames and no shops were always "super pink and colourful and girly," she says."When you're a little girl, it's sort of like heaven," says Vianne Tinsley-Gardener, 23. She would go to the Claire's stores in Braintree, Essex, to buy keyrings, earrings and shops were full of "unique little knick-knacks", she lucky dips bags - where you didn't know what you were getting - and multibuy offers like its five items for £10 deal turned shopping there into a treasure hunt and catered to tweens' was a staple for young people getting their ears pierced, too - and it often had special deals. But many Claire's shoppers found that some point during their time at secondary school, the brand just stopped being cool. They turned to places like Accessorize, Topshop and Primark was the case for Ceara Silvano, 23. She remembers it became too "kiddish" when she was about 13 and she started shopping at Primark instead."You do just grow out of stuff like that," Ceara says - though she still returned later to have her ears pierced at Claire's. Al Thomann loved Claire's when they were younger because of its use of bright colours, glitter and floral designs. But as they grew up, they too started to see the brand as "childish" and stopped shopping there."You start to feel like you're a young adult, and all around me, most of the adults were not shopping at Claire's," Al, now 25, says. "Aspiring to be an adult meant rejecting that sort of childlike, colourful, rainbow, unicorn whimsy." How young people shop is changing Back in the 2000s and 2010s, young people bought things because they liked them, rather than because they were trendy, says Constance Richardson, who owns the personal styling business By Constance thanks to rising use of social media, young people are keeping up-to-date with what's stylish online."Shein can spot a trend on TikTok and have that live within days, often for much less money" than Claire's, says Georgia Wright, a reporter at Retail a Chinese online fast-fashion giant, sells a huge range of items including clothes, accessories and stationery for low prices. Claire's, in comparison, doesn't pounce on trends as quickly, Ms Wright it can't compete on price, Miss Richardson says. "They're still selling novelty products at a non-novelty price." Another factor is that young people are often influenced by creators on social media who are much older than them - and don't shop at Claire's."Kids are growing up faster than ever," says Ms Wright. "You've got 11 year olds with five-step skincare routines."At the other end of the spectrum to Shein, they're turning to more premium brands like Sephora, Space NK and Astrid and Miyu, she "just doesn't deliver the same excitement," Ms Wright says. But the brand still holds a special place in many people's says she feels nostalgic about shopping at Claire's and wishes she'd kept some items as mementoes. Whenever Ella walks past Claire's stores, "it brings a little smile to my face".And some people say they still enjoy shopping at the brand. "As I started university and started thinking about my own sexuality and gender identity and how I wanted to present myself, the sort of items that Claire's sold once again came back into my field of knowledge," Al says. "All of the really beautiful, very unique earrings and necklaces, bracelets, flower crowns, those kinds of things, were almost instruments to display my own identity in a way that was visible."


Times
an hour ago
- Times
Is this the most important designer you've never heard of?
Anyone with their eye on the fashion world's transfer window will know that luxury houses are trading creative directors and parachuting in new design teams at an unprecedented pace. This September at least five of the world's most prestigious fashion brands will unveil collections under newly recruited designers, who, charged with dreaming up a bestselling handbag or two, are weighed down under the pressure. Max Mara's Ian Griffiths sits apart from all that. Having recently marked 37 years of service at the Italian brand that is globally renowned for its baby-hair-soft camel coats, Griffiths is a unicorn of sorts. He began at the company in 1987 and has never looked back. 'There was no such thing as 'creative director' in those days,' says the 57-year-old, who began as a junior on the design team. Griffiths got the role after winning a competition, which he entered while studying at the Royal College of Art in London. 'They offered me a job for life,' he says. Nearly four decades later he finds it difficult to remember much before he took on the role. 'I've been with Max Mara more than half my life and exactly half of its life, so we are pretty tied up with each other.' Sharing such levels of intimacy with a house and its customers is almost unheard of for most designers today. 'I don't envy these guys at all,' Griffiths says. 'They would probably all laugh at the fact that I had nearly 20 years to think about what Max Mara was before I had to make important decisions about where it would go. They are turning up and being expected to take a brand in a radically different direction in the first season. More importantly, they are expected to produce instant results. From this perspective I wonder what happens to a brand's heritage and identity when it's been passed through three or four or five different hands. Heritage is so difficult to acquire and so easy to lose.' • Read more fashion advice and style inspiration from our experts For Griffiths, who can talk in astounding detail about shades of camel ('an inexhaustible subject', he says) and has an encyclopaedic knowledge of Italian culture and its impact on the way the world gets dressed, the gift has been to evolve with the Max Mara Group, which has grown from a ready-to-wear line to a multifaceted business spanning some 35 different labels during his tenure. It helps that he still seems to really enjoy his job — whether he's staging a star-studded catwalk show, as he is the day after we meet, with Gwyneth Paltrow and Alexa Chung among those on the guest list for his latest Cruise spectacular — or beavering away with his design team. 'I enjoy the rainy afternoons in the office as much as I do the big moments,' he says. 'It still seems to me as small and villagey as it was when I first joined.' He has never lost sight of the fact that Max Mara will always be bigger than he is. While the way in fashion is to shout about the big designer signing, Max Mara — a family business founded by Achille Maramotti in 1951, now with a group revenue estimated at between €1.5 billion (£1.3 billion) and €1.9 billion a year — would rather you were more interested in its products than the people behind them. 'Someone once described me as the most famous designer you've never heard of. I don't think I'll ever get rid of that,' he says. He may not be a fan of that tagline, but it suits him. His Max Mara is a globally recognised phenomenon that has rewritten the rule book for women and power dressing more times than it is given credit for. 'Women couldn't wear trousers to work when I first joined,' he says. 'Max Mara formulated power dressing. Now we're helping women break down those dress codes as they demand more freedom from their clothes.' Griffiths sits before me now on a Neapolitan rooftop, sporting a white linen shirt and camel trousers. Behind us his design team are preparing for the catwalk show, which will be held at the Reggia di Caserta, an 18th-century baroque palace likened to an Italian Versailles, the following evening. Looking out to the Mediterranean, which laps the shoreline below us, he describes how he drew inspiration for the collection from postwar Italian cinema (his passion) and Neapolitan style. 'I always need a story to hang a collection around,' he says, 'otherwise it's just a long list of abstract nouns. The more you try and explain, the more words you use, the less it actually means.' He has been telling stories through clothing since he was a teenager. Originally from Wokingham, Griffiths and his family lived in Derbyshire during his childhood, where he emerged as a postpunk new romantic. 'As a teenager I could think of little more enjoyable than spending an afternoon putting myself in an outfit. I once made myself an outfit out of some gold curtains my mum was throwing away. I always loved fashion.' He started designing clothes for other people when, having dropped out of an architecture course at Manchester University, he set up a stall at the nearby Butter Lane Antiques Market. Acting as his own brand ambassador, he would wear his designs to go clubbing. 'People would give me £30 and say, 'Would you make me one for next Saturday?' That was my first experience of the clothing business.' This early business insight, along with the creative training he received on the MA course at the Royal College of Art in London, has allowed Griffiths a generous design aesthetic that is very much motivated by making women feel like the best versions of themselves. Certainly he is sympathetic to their cause. 'Women face, I think, the most barbaric criticism for every decision that they make. With choices come more decisions and more to be criticised for. 'There's so much fashion that makes people feel bad about themselves. We've always tried to do fashion that makes people feel good about themselves.' With the exception, perhaps, of its now iconic teddy coat — a supersized faux fur that has spawned a thousand paparazzi shots — Max Mara isn't a brand you use to make a big fashion statement, and that's just how the design team wants it. 'Clothes should be a frame for the person wearing them. The person shines, the frame doesn't budge. The person is never overpowered by the clothes.' Max Mara's signature camel coat, a garment that has been with the company since its early years, is a fitting example of the framework Griffiths is describing. 'The whole thing has come full circle now, but its masculine shape must have been quite shocking back when Max Mara first started making them in the Sixties,' he says. 'The idea of taking a menswear classic, with all of its symbols of male prestige and power, really was a daring act.' The simplicity of Italian style — 'easy to wear, elegant, unfussy' — has always been a point of interest for him. His passion is movies, with every collection he works on peppered with references to the style of Marlene Dietrich or Rita Hayworth. Or, in the instance of the Cruise collection we are here to discuss, Silvana Mangano, who starred in the 1949 film Riso Amaro (Bitter Rice) and inspired the tiny shorts-and-wader combo he will unveil on the runway. Griffiths has a remarkable grasp on what he describes as 'Italianness' ('There's no better word for it. Believe me, I've spent years trying to come up with one,' he says). 'I do look at myself and laugh, because I've become a caricature in a way. I am an Italian person's idea of a British person,' he says. 'Ridiculously so.' But the outsider perspective has served him well. 'It's easier to be objective. For a time, being British enabled me to inject a little bit of eccentricity into Max Mara. Italian [style] is a lot freer now.' For the first 25 years of his career Griffiths lived at a hotel the company owned near its HQ in Reggio Emilia, near Milan. 'I was in complete denial. I was so connected to London. I lived in London in my head. That's where my home was,' he says. But things have changed. 'Someone asked me the other evening where I was from and I really didn't know how to answer. I am from the UK, obviously, but since Brexit I am a resident of Reggio Emilia in Italy. The draw of coming back to my cottage in Suffolk is becoming less strong. I don't feel as at home there as I used to.' • Stars out for Max Mara show that offers light touch in the heat Now, in the midst of purchasing a home in Lunigiana, Tuscany, Griffiths's trips back to the UK are to visit his mother. His biggest fan 'and critic', he says — she is a regular at his fashion shows, attending in person, and virtually when she can't make the journey. 'At our show in Venice last year we facetimed her from backstage; all the models were passing my phone around. Mum was in her dressing gown with rollers in and no make-up on. When she realised everyone could see her, she was furious.' Is she a Max Mara woman? 'Oh yes,' Griffiths says. 'Various things have come her way over the years.' Like most of his customers, she is holding on tight to her favourite pieces. 'You don't find Max Mara in vintage stores,' Griffiths says, 'because people hang on to it. The clothes don't have a shelf life. We deal in simplicity and in classics that stand the test of time.' If it ain't broke … @karendacre


Daily Mail
an hour ago
- Daily Mail
SNP Government-backed ferry firm shells out almost £2million in compensation
The SNP's ferry fiasco deepened last night as it was revealed CalMac has had to pay out almost £2 million in compensation to passengers because of delays and cancellations in less than a decade. Scotland's state-owned ferry operator has handed customers at least £1.9 million to cover the cost of cancellations, alternative travel arrangements, food and accommodation since 2017, new figures show. In the last financial year alone it gave out £432,735 in compensation to travellers – with a further £33,792 paid out in recent months It comes as MailOnline told last month how an astonishing 10,809 crossings were scrapped by the operator in just over two years due to technical faults. The firm has suffered years of problems caused by its ageing fleet, which is meant to provide a lifeline to Scotland's island communities. Services have also been impacted by the almost £500 million scandal surrounding delivery of its two new ferries for the Arran service, the Glen Sannox and the Glen Rosa, which have been dogged by years of delays and spiralling costs. Scottish Lib Dem transport spokesman Jamie Greene said: 'The bill for cancellations and compensation is soaring because the SNP have let the Scottish ferry network deteriorate. 'The hardworking staff at CalMac have been let down by an SNP government that took control of the company and broke their promise to deliver new ferries on time and on budget, which would have reduced the massive bills we now see for compensation and repairs. 'All of this has created a grim new norm for my constituents along the West coast, from losing business to missing hospital appointments.' Data released to Mr Greene's party under freedom of information laws show there were 7,058 customer claims made to CalMac between April 2023 and April 2025. CalMac paid £432,735 in compensation to travellers in 2024-25, with a further £33,792 paid out in May and June this year – the first two months of 2025-26. The compensation bill for last year is up by more than 37 per cent from 2023-24, when CalMac shelled out £314,494 – but is still lower than in 2022-23 when payments amounted to £454,000. A number of vital routes are said to constantly suffer changes to routes and timetables or cancellations owing to a 'lack of vessel availability', with a key factor being the age of the 35-strong fleet Many vessels have had to operate beyond their expected lifespans, leading to increasing breakdowns. A CalMac spokeswoman said: 'We offer compensation if a journey has been disrupted or cancelled for specific reasons. 'It is no secret that our fleet is ageing and this can lead to higher levels of technical problems.' A Transport Scotland spokesman said: 'CalMac are delivering services in increasingly challenging weather and the arrival of 13 new vessels by 2029 will reduce technical issues and these modern vessels should also be able to operate in more challenging conditions.'