Summer has waned, and Instagram is aflood with people photographing their last attempts at hanging on to it. Grilling. Lakes. Pools. Oceans. Wearing white (is that even still a thing?) and drinking Rosé. Today I bring you this:

Yes. Really.

So now would be a good time to tell you that I did not in fact purchase this wine. I got an email earlier this summer informing me that I’d won some kind of White Girl Rosé giveaway. I really don’t recall entering said giveaway. It’s *possible* I did; my memory ain’t what it used to be, but I really don’t remember doing so. In any case, two bottles of it arrived along with a tote bag that I like quite a bit. So, I suppose I have to disclose that this was a sample? Not totally sure in this situation.

Now. The wine. Want a scary fact? This wine was the most photographed alcoholic product on Instagram this summer. How did this wine happen? I ask that question with a slightly shrill tone of incredulity. Well here it is, in a nutshell: this wine is a product of internet sensationalism. The creators of White Girl Rosé are two dudes. One internet celebrity known as The Fat Jew:

Feast your eyes on this fella.

And one other guy, who is apparently co-responsible for the White Girl Problems/Babe Walker phenomenon. I won’t bother screenshotting him, he’s not as curious a specimen.

Here’s what I know about The Fat Jew: he’s an internet commentator, and I’m physically repulsed by him. Truthfully, that appears to be all he is. In case he ever reads this, I’m not making light of your fame, sir; I’m sure you deserve it. But still. I had to search for a bit to try to find out exactly WHAT you are and what you DO. Some of his Instagram posts are actually pretty funny, but overall I think he comes across in interviews as smarmy and kind of irritating, to be honest. But this is the world we live in, where people like him get famous for doing practically nothing at all.

The first time I saw this wine, I thought it was mildly entertaining and I knew it would fly off shelves (duh). I also knew that I was in no way the target audience for this wine, so my opinion didn’t really matter much. I could talk ’til I’m blue in the face about how many rosés of superior quality (and no mention of gender or race) could be found in the $14.99-16.99 price range. I could go on for days about authentic winemaking, place, process, tradition and how this practically flies in the face of those of us that have been preaching the rosé gospel for years. As well as those making it in an authentic way. But I know that those words would likely fall on deaf ears, and the wine would blow up anyway. Which it did.

THEN I read a little bit more about what exactly it is made from. And I grew increasingly alarmed. This wine comes from a crush facility in the San Joaquin Valley, and it is made from … wait for it… ZINFANDEL. And some Sauvignon Blanc.

Folks, this is White Zin.

Which is kind of perfect, actually. These bros have slapped a funny label and some internet fame onto White Zin, and made it the coolest gd thing to ever happen to white girls. They’re laughing all the way to the bank.

Then I read this: “From the creators of Babe Walker and The Fat Jew: ‘We knew people thought it was going to be a joke, so we worked with some pretty high-end and sophisticated wine people to make a spectacular, Provence-style wine… It’s super-crispy with a touch of citrus and sweet after-notes. It’s also bone-dry.'”

Provence style? Um. No. You can call it “super-crispy” (although my brain hurts just typing that) but an ode to Provence it is not. Just cause its crisp don’t make it Provence-style. And it IS crisp. Truth be told, its not an entirely unpleasant wine. This wine tastes like Sauv Blanc- tart gooseberry with some vague red fruit notes sort of meandering about in the background. When its ice-cold it isn’t half bad. Once it warms up, you’re left with slight bitterness and some burny booze content. But something tells me the 20-something white girls slamming this by the pool never let it get warm.

Perhaps I’m getting too carried away here. I’m not trying to be a hater. Drink it and enjoy it, if you choose to. But this wine is maybe one of the first wines that literally would not be here if it weren’t for social media. And that’s a little frightening to me. And as someone who is currently on the path to creating a brand- a brand that I (we) want to have a clear vision and make a statement based on our collective experience and love of wine- I find it unsettling. The wine business is hard. And here come these two and they’re all “yeah, the Hamptons ran out of rosé last year and we thought NEVER AGAIN, so we went and did this. Cool, huh?” Oye.

Now I feel old. Did I mention I’m not the target audience? You kids get off my lawn.