After nearly 30 years in the spirits business, I’ve watched attitudes about drinking change and consumer culture change. The latest debate is not about alcohol at all. When Steven Bartlett, manager of the The CEO’s diary podcast, shared that three glasses of wine affected his sleep, exercise and productivity a few days later, the conversation quickly moved beyond drinking it. It’s been a debate about doing well and whether we’ve started valuing life so closely that we’ve forgotten how to enjoy it.
Steven wasn’t describing a typical hangover. He was describing the aftermath of the outbreak. His sleep is painful. His diet changed. Skip two exercise sessions. He even heard it affected his podcast. His wear tracked it all, and he shared the results freely. The public reaction to this revelation was ecstatic.
Some people have asked if our obsession with improvisation has gone too far. Others have pointed out that someone invested in balancing every aspect of life may not become an impartial judge overnight. But what really stood out to me was how many people admitted that they missed something simple: enjoying a drink, sitting for a while and being fully present without immediately wondering what the next morning’s data will say.
Because this conversation was never about alcohol. It was about how we want to live. For most of the past decade, consumer culture has rewarded relentless efficiency. We counted steps, tracked sleep, monitored glucose, measured recovery and looked for any small gains everywhere from our food to our calendars. Those tools created healthy habits for some people, but they also reframed entertainment through the lens of performance, turning all indulgence into a counter-productive trade of the future.
I’ve been fortunate enough to spend most of my career in the spirits business, and one thing remains true: people rarely remember a drink because of what’s in the glass. They remember the time around. They remember the restaurant where they were celebrating something important. A bar where they met someone who became a lifelong friend. A dinner that unexpectedly turned into a night of laughter. The bottle was opened when finally there was something worth celebrating.
Some of the most rewarding conversations of my career have taken place over a drink. Not because the drink itself solved anything, but because it created a space for people to slow down, listen and connect. The spirits industry has always sold more than what’s in the glass. Its true product has been hospitality: creating spaces where conversations last, relationships deepen and celebrations become memories.
In the last ten years, we have been able to measure life. Steps. Sleep. Calories. Returning. Production. Financial terms. Screen time. Almost everything became something to track, score and improve. That concept spread beyond life. It has affected the way we travel, exercise, socialize and even relax. The experience had to justify itself with measurable returns rather than just being fun.
The result is an interesting cultural conflict. Consumers still value wellness, but many also want spaces where they can stop developing for a few hours. Self care matters. But the best version of us has to leave room for happiness. Somewhere along the way, many of us began to treat entertainment as if it required justification. Martini stopped being just a martini. It was the score of tomorrow’s sleep.
However, recently something is changing. People want to go out again. The change became clear last year, when sale of spirits in bars and restaurants it began to grow again, about one percent, as wine and beer both slipped, according to 2025 data from CGA through NIQ’s On Premise Measurement tool. Local volumes have now risen back to 93 percent of where they were before the pandemic, menu prices are up 25 percent from 2019, according to additional 2025 CGA data by NIQ. People don’t drink a lot when they go out. They pay a lot to be there, and do it anyway.
Consumers are always choosing to spend discretionarily, but many are willing to spend more on experiences they truly value. In all hospitality, dining, live entertainment and luxury travel, value is often measured by the quality of the experience rather than the amount spent. The spirits industry is seeing a similar change.
Spend an evening in a beautiful cocktail bar and the appeal becomes obvious. People linger and share stories. The negotiations went through the last call. Recommendations are passed from bartender to guest and from table to table. People order what they really want rather than what they think they should choose. With all the technology around us, bars remain one of the few places where discovery happens face-to-face.
That philosophy has shaped our business at Aspen Vodka. We have long believed that premium spirits are achieved through hospitality and knowledge rather than advertising. A bartender recommending something new. Friends share a drink they have never tried before. A conversation that starts with, “What are you doing?” Over 80 percent of our business currently comes through bars and restaurants because great brands are ultimately built through shared knowledge, trusted recommendations and memorable service. This is where the bartender can tell the story. This is where one can experience fresh air for the first time. This is where a product can become part of a person’s life.
The martini is a perfect example of this change. It has become one of the most interesting drinks at the moment. Every generation seems sure to rediscover the martini for the first time, but today’s bartenders have made it their own. They create thoughtful, nutritious and unexpected versions. Drinks that almost guarantee someone at the table will ask, “What’s that?” That’s the magic. Great cocktails start conversations. The resurgence of the Martini says a lot about the culture. It’s a reminder that traditions still matter, especially those that bring people together in person.
People aren’t just looking to drink more. They want moments to remember. That’s what good spirits brands have always stood for. Not just what happened, but what happened afterwards. They become part of the moments people choose to remember.
The cure for overstimulation is not overuse. The wide range of tourism businesses gives people strong reasons to come together. As digital communication becomes more common, knowledge built on real interactions becomes less and less important. Restaurants, cocktail bars and hotels sell places where relationships are formed and strengthened. Technology can make almost every interaction more efficient. It couldn’t recreate the alchemy of a good night shared with other people.
Spirits is about creating stories that happen when people slow down enough to enjoy being together. None of this is an argument against moderation. Self-care is important, and no one is asking bartenders to bring back shots of neon energy drinks or ingredients you can’t pronounce. Knowing what’s in our glass is important. Being transparent about how something is actually made isn’t going anywhere, and it shouldn’t. What is changing is that people no longer want every decision to be filtered by a productivity metric. They have stopped carrying a drink or going to bed as if it is something that needs to be forgiven first. They just want to feel good.
Perhaps that is why Steven Bartlett’s story touched so many people. It was definitely not three glasses of wine. It was about whether we left enough room in our lives for moments that don’t need a reason. The evenings we cherish are rarely the ones that went as planned. They are the ones where no one notices the time. Where another additional round naturally occurs. When the conversation went better than expected. When someone offered you a drink he remembered years later. Because the best brands don’t just sit on the shelves. They become part of the stories people tell.
The martini may be having a second. But what people really rediscover is something much simpler: the joy of good company, a good drink and a moment to remember. After years spent optimizing almost every aspect of daily life, consumers seem to be rediscovering information that resists measurement. The value of a good night is never found in a sleep score or fitness tracker. It is found in strengthened relationships, conversations remembered and stories people continue to tell long after the glasses have been removed.
In that sense, the return of the exodus is a reminder that some of life’s most important experiences were never meant to be developed in the first place. Because in the end, leading spirits don’t create moments. They become part of them.
