I document things. I always have. Journal. Video. Photo. Now, reviews. It started with a bottle of wine in France. I drank it. Hated it. Forgot about it. And the next store visit inadvertently bought it again.
“Merde, this can’t keep happening.”
The grocery store had a wall of Bordeaux. I drank many bottles. Then I’d forget which was good and bad. I downloaded the app, Vivino. Took pictures of the wine and wrote
“Bad wine. Sweet. Wouldn’t buy again.”
This took place for years. Small entries, one after another. My wine memory problem solved. No bad bottles twice. The reviews now read
“Great wine. Dry. $10 at Trader Joe’s. Listened to Beach Fossils while drinking on the balcony. Would buy again.”
Beyond wine, I reviewed clothes. A hotel room. The food in a restaurant. The selection at a record store. The reviews became a way of holding onto things. Small records of a day.
They were not always written. There are the video reviews. In college, my brother, friend, and myself went on boudin runs. Church Point. Delcambre. Port Barre. We got down. Ordered a link. Grabbed a beer. Ate in the car and reviewed
“Good mush. Tears easy. Nice spice.”
The boudin reviews were a key shared memory. The fun, innocent times of living together. The conversations. The music. The laughter.
The reviews were for myself. Self-documentation. But then the restaurants replied. Wine drinkers liked and commented. Google sent emails. “Your review reached 20,000 views”. What was once a self-serving memory aid became a guide for others.
Reviews reflect a moment in time. How you felt. The atmosphere. The company. They are not life changing, award winning pieces of writing. They are brief, concise thoughts about experiences. Personal yet public. Helpful but not really. Sometimes they are simply
“Good. Easy. Would read again.”
