La Paulée in Melbourne really is Australia’s premier wine event — no question about it. In fact, calling it a wine event barely does it justice. It is something much more profound. La Paulée is a gathering of not just wine, but of people who live and breathe it, who find meaning in a perfectly aged bottle, who spend their evenings lost in discussions about vintages, terroirs, producers, and the fine line between good and transcendent. It is one of those rare days where the wine trade, collectors, serious enthusiasts, and casual drinkers all come together, bound by a mutual love and respect for the grape, the land, and the hands that shape both into liquid art.
From the moment the date is announced, the energy starts to crackle. You can sense it across Melbourne — in whispered conversations in wine bars, in quiet text threads between collectors swapping notes, in the way sommeliers across the city start to smile knowingly when La Paulée comes up in conversation. For months leading up to it, the anticipation builds in the background like an underground river, just below the surface, gathering momentum. As the day draws closer, the excitement becomes palpable. Plans are made, itineraries are cleared, and the all-important decision begins: what bottle to bring?
Because that is the heart of La Paulée — it is not just about what you drink, but what you share. And people take it seriously. Very seriously. You see friends, colleagues, and sometimes complete strangers, standing in front of their wine fridges or cellars, agonising over the decision. It is not enough to simply bring something good — it must be something personal, something meaningful. Something that tells a story. Bottles are dusted off, labels carefully inspected, provenance checked and double-checked. Some dig deep, reaching into their collection’s hidden corners for that one bottle they have been saving not for a special occasion, but for the right occasion. And for many, La Paulée is precisely that.
What is remarkable is the sheer generosity that permeates the event. La Paulée is not about flexing the most expensive bottle or flaunting a cellar’s worth — though, to be clear, some jaw-dropping bottles do make appearances. It is about generosity of spirit. Bottles are passed around with abandon. People pour for those sitting next to them, across from them, down the table. Conversations blossom over shared pours, and what starts as a polite nod soon becomes a deep dive into why someone loves a particular producer, why a certain vineyard resonates with them. Before you know it, two people who might never have met otherwise are swapping stories about that rainy day in Burgundy when they first visited Domaine Leflaive or reminiscing about a long afternoon spent in the cellars of Raveneau.
The pace of the day is, in hindsight, almost comical. There is no rush, no agenda except to enjoy. We spent three hours — three proper, immersive hours — just on white wine alone. Not because there was too little wine to move faster, but because no one wanted to move faster. There is a reverence, a kind of hushed joy, in sitting with a glass of aged white Burgundy, in discussing its nuances, comparing it to a different vintage, passing glasses back and forth to cross-reference what the table thinks. The bottles come thick and fast, but the pace is languid, as it should be. There is time to savour, to discuss, to argue a little (about the merits of a 2014 versus a 2017 Chablis, perhaps) and to laugh a lot.
And just when you think you might finally move on to the reds, someone cracks open a bottle of Champagne. And then another. And another. Champagne at La Paulée is not an afterthought or a palate cleanser — it is a key player. A main event all on its own. We devoted another hour to it, a glorious hour of indulgence, clinking glasses filled with Blanc de Blancs, vintage rosés, grower Champagnes that had been ageing quietly for a decade or more. It is an embarrassment of riches, but no one is keeping score.
The reds eventually make their grand entrance — reds that, in any other setting, would be the undisputed stars of the show. Great bottles, some with names that make people sit up a little straighter: Rousseau, Roumier, Leroy, Mugnier. Others lesser known but no less exciting — small domaines producing heartbreakingly beautiful wines. As the reds begin to flow, so too does the conversation deepen. By this point, the table has become something like a family gathering. There is a warmth, a shared intimacy born of passed glasses and lingering eye contact over a particularly ethereal Gevrey Chambertin.
It is important to note that La Paulée is not just about the wines — though, let's be honest, the wines are staggering. What really makes the day is the people. It is the friendships and the bonds that are built and strengthened year after year. There is a kind of unspoken understanding in the room. We are all, in our own ways, slightly troubled. Obsessive, even. Who else but a wine obsessive can spend 20 minutes passionately arguing about the relative merits of different bottlings of Chevalier Montrachet, or debating whether 2005 or 2010 is the greater vintage for Vosne Romanée? But here, in this space, those obsessions make perfect sense. They are celebrated, not hidden. They are part of what makes the day what it is.
There is a peculiar magic to the way La Paulée dissolves barriers. Whether you are a winemaker, a sommelier, a merchant, or simply someone who loves wine more than is probably healthy, at La Paulée, you are one of the tribe. Hierarchies vanish. Status evaporates. What matters is the bottle in your hand and the story behind it. Some of the most unforgettable conversations happen between people who might never interact outside these walls, connected by nothing more (and nothing less) than a shared passion.
It is also a day where, somehow, the usual rules of time do not seem to apply. Hours slip by unnoticed. A quick conversation about a Montrachet turns into an hour-long debate about vineyard practices. Someone’s glass is always being topped up. Food appears — thoughtfully paired, of course, but secondary to the main attraction — and is happily grazed upon without interrupting the rhythm of the wine.
Top 10 Wines of the Day (no particular order)
- 2012 Champagne Salon en Magnum
- 2013 Comtes Georges de Vogüé Bonnes Mares Grand Cru
- 2014 François Raveneau Grand Cru Valmur
- 2010 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Corton
- 2008 Trimbach Clos St Hune Riesling
-2003 Château Cheval Blanc
- 2007 Cristal Champagne en Jerobaum
- 1985 Tignanello (birth year)
- 2015 Domaine d’Auvenay Aligoté Sous Châtelet
- 2011 E. Guigal La Landonne Côte-Rôtie
As the afternoon stretches into evening, the atmosphere shifts again. There is a certain softness, a mellowness, as the sun dips lower and the wines start to show their full personality. People lean in closer, voices drop a little, and the conversations become less animated and more reflective. Memories are made in these hours — not just of what was drunk, but of who you drank it with.
Some moments are almost cinematic. The quiet clink of glass against glass. The gleam of candlelight on deep golden liquid. A laugh erupting from the end of the table. A sudden, shared silence as everyone pauses to taste something extraordinary. These are the snapshots that linger long after the last bottle is emptied and the tables are cleared.
And yes, there are the wines. Oh, the wines. Names that echo through the annals of wine history, vintages that have become legend. Bottles that were, perhaps, too precious to open on just any night — and yet here, they are poured without hesitation. There is something deeply beautiful about that. About the idea that wine, at its best, is meant to be shared. That its highest purpose is not to gather dust on a shelf or be admired from afar, but to be opened, experienced, discussed, and loved in the company of others.
La Paulée is a celebration of all of that. Of generosity. Of community. Of obsession. Of joy. It is a reminder that, for all its complexities and pretensions, wine is ultimately about connection — to place, to history, to each other.
Of course, the next morning tends to arrive with a little less poetry. Heads are foggy, throats are dry, and more than one person likely swears off wine for at least a day or two. But even then, even through the haze, the glow of La Paulée remains. The memories linger. The friendships forged over shared bottles and laughter persist, deepened by the experience.
In the days and weeks that follow, photos are exchanged, lists of wines consumed are compared, and plans for next year’s bottle selections quietly begin to form. The cycle starts anew. The underground river of anticipation begins to flow once more, gaining strength with each passing week, until, once again, La Paulée calls.
And we will answer.
Because in the end, La Paulée is not just an event. It is a gathering of like-minded souls, a brief, shining moment where the noise of the world falls away and all that remains is what truly matters: great wine, even greater company, and the quiet, shared understanding that these are the moments that give life its deepest flavour.