Judging people by their cellar

There's an oft-quoted line, allegedly exchanged between two young or not so young ladies: If you go home with a man and he doesn't have a book collection, don't stay. Books signal a life being lived, and their absence can be strangely unsettling. As one lady said after a disappointing date: "If a book selection is absent or wrong, everything else will be." It's not just in films that the couple arrive back at the man's home and the lady heads straight for the bookshelves. But as bookshelves become less and less common in modern homes, perhaps we need a better guide. Enter the wine rack. A person's cellar - whether a genuine bodega or a cardboard box - reveals more than most bookcases will.

A collection dominated by heavy reds, Ribera del Duero, Priorat, the odd Châteauneuf-du-Pape belongs to someone with firm opinions and a heroic outlook. Then there's the Albariño and Sancerre aficionado: crisp whites convey practicality and organisation.

The Champagne-for-No-Reason drinker keeps a Cava chilled 'just in case': an optimist, generous, occasionally chaotic. And that bottle of Rosado from Navarra kept for "the right moment", which rarely arrives.

As with books, it's not about sophistication. A modest collection speaks as clearly as a grand cellar. What matters is the intention: a readiness for welcome, pleasure, and the possibility of celebration.

So perhaps the modern rule is if you go home with somebody and there's no wine at all... proceed with care. A cellar, however small, tells you who they really are.