Conspicuous Coffee Tables

The Napa Valley Look

THE coffee tables of Northern California, however neat and polished they might seem, are the hotbeds of an American revolution that could one day save the world. From Oakland to Oakville, devoted oenophiles are gathering a table to toast themselves, outfitted by Wilkes Bashford in a style somewhere between L. L. Bean and Ralph Lauren. They're part of a motley, though grand, cru looking at life through rosewine glasses. It's a life-style that Robert Mondavi, their charismatic leader, hopes will have more of a deterrent effect on America's enemies than the MX missile. It is the Napa Look.

Robert Mondavi's threepiece glass coffee table epitomizes the current style, serving as a display counter for his exceptional table wines. R.M. kicked off the upscale wine boom in 1966 when he founded his winery in Napa Valley. Since then, everyone's gone grape nuts. Today, the winery attracts 300,000 tourists a year, sort of a Disneyland for the Martha's Vineyard crowd. Even Baron Philippe de Rothschild jumped on the wagon, approaching R. M. in the early sev-

enties to co-produce a premier red table wine: Opus One. (The first case of the 1979 vintage sold in 1981 for $24,000— $2,000 a bottle.)

Mondavi's success story, besides being source material for Falcon Crest, has inspired hundreds of doctors, dentists, and lawyers, budding vignerons from all over California, to journey north in quest of similar riches. They've turned Highway 29 into Hollywood and Vine. The Napa Look goes hand in hand with the commercial rewards— Saabs, blazers with vertical stripes, handwoven breadbaskets, monogrammed corkscrews. The leisurely life comes with the territory: wine-and-cheese picnics, outdoor jazz concerts, kite flying—activities that are de rigueur for any self-respecting Napa Valley girl or boy.

America's wine baron plans to retire soon to his home on Wappo Hill, an aerie overlooking the vineyards below. The spacious Spanish ranch house is designed for rustic living. "During the good weather," Mondavi explains, "we sleep outdoors 90 percent of the time. " This makes perfect sense, since the pool is indoors—a palatial spa reminiscent

of a Roman bath. At seventy-two, the vivacious vintner still cuts a handsome figure, attributing his good health to the clean, natural life-style and the lack of smog. "There are a lot of blessings in Napa Valley. It's a simple but gracious way of life. ' '

R.M., however, takes the good life very seriously. He believes that educating taste buds will lead to a cultural realignment around the globe. "In the next generation, America is going to be the shining light in wine and food and gracious living. Once the people of the world understand that we are not bullies, with all the power but not the finesse, they're going to appreciate our free-enterprise system. It is one of the best tools to sell our way— even more effective than the power of the nuclear bomb. ' '

If Mondavi is the elder statesman of Napa style, then Wilkes Bashford is its most exuberant ambassador. Life is a Cabernet for San Francisco's flamboyant haberdasher. "I've consumed most of Robert Mondavi's 1974

Cabernet Sauvignon,'' he boasts. "It's almost gone now. I'm always nice, hoping I'll get a few bottles from him." When he's not threading his way through the grapevine, Wilkes lives comfortably in a Willis Polk manse (circa 1916) on San Francisco's swank Russian Hill.

He exudes the Napa Look whether sipping a V.S.O.P. at his glass-topped Barcelona coffee table or supping a V.I.P. at a four-star restaurant. His topdrawer men's and women's clothing stores are run like an ongoing cocktail party. Each floor is equipped with a full-fledged bar, stocked with top-shelf booze and fine wines. Here the stores' motto might just as well be: The customer is always tight.

Despite the sobering news that the city is suing him for a million dollars due to unpaid back rent, Bashford is optimistic about the future. This fall, he is uncorking his magnum opus: Wilkes Sport—a chain of some forty stores catering specifically to Nappies. "The same thing that is happening in life-styles is happening in the way that people dress," he remarks. "It's very non-designerish—very American. It's still fashion— but not as trendy." The true trendsetter is bound to be Wilkes's long-haired dachshund, Samantha (sixteen), a rich bitch who, by day, is escorted in a stretch limo to the store which has sold 30,000 shirts and sweaters sporting her likeness. At night, she sleeps under the coffee table. For this D.A.R., being the standard-bearer of the Napa Look is a raisin d'etre.

Brooks Peters