“What are you drinking?” Matt asked me last night while we were chatting using a video chat interface. “Perrier,” I said once I swallowed my swig of refreshing Perrier. “Why are you drinking Perrier?” he said, implying that I should not be drinking Perrier. “Is it because it’s French?”
It is because it’s French. I knew that answer immediately. Thanks for noticing my fine taste in French waters, Matt. But there are deeper reasons, yes, why a person with little to no disposable income (“little” if you ask me, “no” if you ask anyone familiar with my finances) would be drinking French water.
Perrier comes in a glass bottle that feels good in my hands. The water is bubbly, which makes it more exciting than still water. I like the word “bubbly.” In Germany, you order water “with gas” or “without gas,” which is a less luxurious way of putting it. My parents buy San Pellegrino, an Italian bubbly water brand, by the case. We have it with dinner. It’s also a nice happy hour treat, mixed with orange juice. A “shorle,” is what that’s called in German, the mix of bubbly water and fruit juice. Orangenshorle. Apfelshorle. So, you see, it reminds me of home in addition to reminding me of Europe. Comfort and adventure, it says to me. In one little glass bottle.
Oh, I’ve been to Europe. When I was in Europe, I drank bubbly water. It wasn’t Perrier. I don’t remember the brand. Maybe it was Perrier sometimes. I’m not sure. Anyway the glass bottles and the bubbles remind me of my time in Europe. Buying it feels good. Drinking it feels good. Pulling it out on the subway to take a small sip feels good. When I go to Europe again, if I go to Europe again, will drinking Perrier remind me of Brooklyn? It might.
A bottle of Perrier is $2. I buy one every few days, say five a week. If I didn’t buy Perrier and instead saved that money, I could afford a plane ticket to Europe in … two years. I’ll take the water. The glass really does feel great in your hand. And hydration is important.