‘Bold’. ‘Elegant’. ‘Introverted’? How words describing wine get lost in translation
I recently watched a participant at a wine tasting freeze when asked for their opinion. “It’s … nice?” they ventured, clearly wanting to say more but lacking the specific vocabulary to do so.
The sommelier quickly intervened, noting the wine was “quite elegant, with beautiful structure.” The participant simply nodded, and the conversation ended.
Wine is a multi-billion-dollar export commodity, yet industry “winespeak” can actually stop people feeling they can join in conversations about wine. And often words can get lost in translation – or mean something very different – in fast-growing wine markets such as China, Vietnam and Thailand.
My new research systematically reviewed 77 studies on wine language and metaphor. Building on my earlier research tracking how wine metaphors evolve, it reveals a surprising disconnect: the language used to taste and talk about wine does not travel across cultures as smoothly as the industry assumes.
This matters for the wine industry, because wine descriptions directly influence purchasing decisions and overall enjoyment.
Images in English that don’t travel
The problem is not the use of metaphor itself. In their 1980 book, Metaphors We Live By, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson argue metaphors are essential cognitive tools we use every day, often without even noticing.
When we say a wine has “body” or “backbone,” we draw on our intimate knowledge of physical experience to make sense of taste and texture. This is how human language works.
The problem is when metaphors fail to travel. Consider “body,” a fundamental concept in English-speaking wine cultures when talking about weight and mouthfeel.
Research shows even native English speakers interpret “body” differently. Some believe it refers to flavour, others to texture, still others to alcohol content.
When translated where the word lacks the same associations, confusion multiplies. In Dutch, German, and Hungarian, literal translations (“lichaam”, “Körper”, “test”) trigger awkward anatomical associations. What sounds natural in English reads as bizarre in translation.
The enigma of ‘elegance’
“Elegance” presents a similar challenge. Wine experts across cultures share a core understanding – that a wine is smooth, balanced, refined, or complex. Yet cultural associations can vary.
In Chinese wine reviews, elegance is expressed through mírén (迷人), meaning “charming”, and nèiliǎn (內斂), meaning “introverted”. These are social-aesthetic metaphors that activate entirely different cultural scripts.
This is significant, because wine is what’s called an “experience good”. You cannot judge taste or quality until after you purchase. Consumers rely on descriptions to signal what they are buying.
When metaphors don’t align culturally, the industry is not just failing to communicate but actively eroding people’s trust.
Why some words affect wine ratings
The wine world’s most widespread linguistic habit is anthropomorphism – the attribution of human characteristics.
Industry reviews routinely characterise wines as “shy,” “honest,” or “aggressive”. This is not decorative language; it is cognitive scaffolding.
Describing wine as a person helps us communicate complex sensory perceptions by drawing on our personal experience of human behaviour and emotion.
However, these particular metaphors can carry cultural baggage. Research suggests that wines labelled with feminine terms (such as “delicate” or “elegant”) are perceived as hedonistic products meant for quick consumption, leading consumers to believe they decline at a younger age.
Conversely, wines with masculine descriptors (“powerful”, “bold”) are linked to ageing potential, and receive higher quality ratings.
Although these gendered metaphors might not always hit the price tag directly, they can fundamentally alter if and when a consumer decides to drink the bottle.
Creating better metaphors
As global wine trade increases, industry is eager to connect with new consumers in emerging markets. Yet they often do so using vocabulary rooted in European traditions and Western thinking that do not communicate clearly to international audiences.
Wine marketers find themselves caught between traditional wine language maintaining prestige and authority, and pressure to create new metaphors resonating globally.
The solution is not to stop using metaphors to describe wine – that would be impossible. The question is how metaphors can work inclusively across cultures, rather than carrying cultural baggage that can lead to bias and market undervaluation.
My research suggests a need to rethink how we communicate about wine. This could include writing tasting notes that incorporate more universally understood sensory cues and culturally consistent evaluative language, in addition to traditional expert vocabulary.
Without deliberate attention to how metaphors travel, or fail to travel, across cultures, the gap between expert “winespeak” and consumer understanding will only widen. The industry is not building a Tower of Babel through metaphor itself, but through the assumption that everyone speaks the same metaphorical language.
Authors: The Conversation
