Do you remember being a kid and visiting a new friend for the first time, only to come home completely disoriented because of how different he or she lived than you?

As an example, I distinctly remember going to friend’s house after school in second grade and being shell-shocked by the fact he watched Gilligan’s Island at 4 PM instead of Happy Days. After that he watched Hogan’s Heroes instead of Mork and Mindy. It was too weird for me. I never went back.

In a sense, meeting new people as we get older constitutes a number of the same situations, it’s just that our coping skills have evolved to the point where we don’t freak out over a little adversity. But as the years go by, and we come into contact with younger people, the little differences can become chasms of separation that are too wide to overlook. There are certain ways of living we come to take for granted, and when those comforts are removed from our existence, we have less patience for that new reality.

The first time I went to Bordeaux for the en primeur tasting, I was with my former boss and his friends: all of whom were in their 60s and 70s. They knew the wines from every estate inside and out, and for them the entire week was old hat. For me, I was jumping at the opportunity to experience everything I could; partially because I knew I would never be able to afford to taste the wines on my own. Most of my older colleagues felt differently, however. For them, tasting the wines while knowing the modern prices was depressing, and a constant reminder of how they had been priced out of their favorite pastime.

Because I had never experienced Bordeaux in the 80s or 90s, I didn’t have any of the same expectations. To me, a bottle of Pichon-Baron should cost $150+. For these other guys, however; a bottle of Pichon-Baron will always be stuck in their minds at $20.

Today, the shoe is on the other foot, albeit with whisk(e)y rather than wine. Those of us who cut our teeth on 2007 prices often have a great difficulty paying what 2021 demands. BUT…the younger generation of whiskey drinkers has no issue. For them, a bottle of Pappy may be worth $1000 or more. Many of them have no problem shelling out extra cash if it means securing the chance at a rare experience. I know this because I watch it happen about fifty times every single day now that I’m back in retail.

Some of my older friends and customers have no patience for this. They’re still living in the era where buying a bottle of whiskey meant you were going to drink it, not sit on it for investment purposes. Once you realize a large number of today’s drinkers are looking to capitalize off their purchases, it completely changes the way you look at the industry.

To use a current analogy, those who bought GameStop stock at $50 or less were sitting pretty when they sold those shares for over $400 last week. But, that doesn’t mean the guys who paid $300 and sold for $400 went away empty handed. Even the guys who paid $350 or more still may have turned a profit. The same holds true for rare bottles of American whiskey. You may laugh at what others are willing to pay, but the joke may ultimately be on you.

As an example, you might scoff at paying $150 or more for a bottle of Blanton’s—as a beverage. But what about as an investment opportunity?

Every single day I talk to guys on the phone who have no plan on drinking many of their purchases. Most of them are younger than me. They’re building equity for a resale down the line, or the chance to trade for something better. As one person told me when buying a rare bottle of rye: “I actually don’t like rye whiskey, but I know someone who will trade me something better for it.”

This has happened in a number of pop culture genres over the last decade-plus. Look at the secondary market for Jordans now. 99% of the people buying his basketball shoes have never played hoops, nor do they plan to; it’s purely a fashion statement or an investment.

Whiskey is no different. As I fell asleep last night while watching The Color of Money, I was struck by something Fast Eddie tells Vincent when asked why he no longer plays pool:

“I’m too old. My wheels are shot. It’s a young man’s game. Kids are playing on coke, speed. When I was younger, it was booze. Somehow it was more human.”

-David Driscoll