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I was reading about Lillet on Decorno (because Decor is my porn), and decided that this was a tasty treat I had to try. So I headed to the liquor store, and spent a few minutes rebuffing offers of help from the clerks while I browsed through the apertif section. When I realized I wasn't going to find it on my own, I was forced to ask an employee to find it for me.

"Lillet?" he asked doubtfully.

I worried that I was pronouncing it wrong.

"Yes. Lee-lay," I said carefully.

"I know what it is," he stood. He paused, reconsidering. "I know what the bottle looks like."

He stood next to me, and joined me in staring blankly at the rows of bottles. It occurred to me that he had no idea where it was either.

"Um, do you carry it?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. To be honest, you're the first person who's ever come in here and asked for it. Ever."

I couldn't tell if this was a good thing. It could mean that I am so damn cool, I might single handedly start a Lillet renaissance in my sleepy, little, decidedly unhip town. Or it could mean that I am now that person -- the pretentious, asking-for-impossible-to-find-drinks-just-to-be-a-pain-in- the-ass chick.

I don't care. I am now on a one-woman mission to track down a bottle.

Posted 01 May 2008 at 06:41 AM