There are a million stock photographs of wine. Laughing slim people holding delicate stems of golden liquid, bubbles lifting into the air, big round glasses filled with deep crimson wine, etc.
The imagery around coffee is business. Corporate suits in white rooms. Or cosy mugs on a cold morning. Or, often, jokes about tired, frazzled (hungover) mothers.
Tea is twee. Rose patterned china cups and saucers. High tea with pastel macarons and frilly cupcakes.
Soft drinks are inescapably juvenile. Mineral water fares better, but is associated with models and other types known for self deprivation.
Up there is my lovely new coffee mug, filled with gently steaming fresh black coffee. If I were a photographer, maybe I’d have been able to sell this as a glamorous, self indulgent, sophisticated beverage option. But I am me, and so it is a photo of a coffee, with a little plastic duck and a pink hair clip in the background. But if I’d taken a photo of wine, it’d look even less glamorous: an ordinary glass of dull liquid on a scratched coffee table, on top of a carpet that badly needs vacuuming and accompanied by various small plastic shoes and cardboard craft projects.
Drinking wine isn’t going to make my life any more glamorous.