Drink Photo illustration by Slate. Photo by Getty Images Plus. Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily. This is One Thing, a column with tips on how to live. Americans are drinking less than ever—according to a 2025 Gallup survey, just 54 percent of U.S. adults say they consume alcohol, the lowest rate in 90 years. I’m part of this teetotaling trend. For years, I would greet the evening with a glass of my favorite red or rosé. These days, though, I’m cutting back because I’m concerned about the health risks, and I’ve discovered I also suffer from an alcohol sensitivity which leaves me feeling drowsy, tired, and frankly nauseous after even one glass of wine. When I reflect on my drinking era, I recognize that drinking was a way to try to take the edge off a stressful day, to mark an occasion, or to simply reconnect and catch up with loved ones. It was part of my daily ritual just like my morning espresso. Indeed, the one thing that made giving up drinking hard was that I loved the ritual of it. Like many rituals, it requires us to take notice of the details and to savor every moment, from the first sip of a favorite beverage to watching bubbles playfully evaporate in the air. One of my fondest memories from when I was a child was when my French mother allowed me to drink a small amount of wine at Christmas in a tiny, bejeweled glass etched in purple and deep blues. As an adult, one of my favorite aspects of indulging in a drink while dining was the glasses. There is something so pleasurable about drinking out of an aesthetically pleasing vessel. I like how different shades of glass reflect the light, and different shapes can alter the texture and even the smell. Glassware, I’ve realized, is an essential part of the sensory experience of drinking. And it was in that realization that I found I could have the best of both worlds, sticking to my sobriety and my drinking ritual by using fancy glasses for nonalcoholic beverages. In the last year I’ve accumulated a mix of fine glassware and cheap plastic knockoffs in bright cheerful colors which take up all the space in one of my too-small kitchen cabinets, while my dishware is relegated to a drawer on my kitchen island. I’m always searching for new additions to my glassware collection, which I often pick up in local gift shops and while traveling. Anytime I enjoy a tonic water in my bright-orange stemmed wineglass, I’m transported to my trip to Venice, where every fashionable person around me was sipping an Aperol or a Campari. I simply pour my tonic water in my glass and close my eyes and imagine myself on the Lido, my toes sinking into the soft warm sand. I have special glass mugs in darker hues that spice up some cranberry juice in lieu of mulled wine in the colder months, the heavy colored glass lending it a fancifulness befitting the holiday season as it transports me to one of my beloved London pubs. Collecting fancy glassware has helped me stick to my healthier habits because it lessens the feeling of giving up something. Drinking out of each handpicked glass adds a little magic into my life, providing a perfect vessel for my range of substitute beverages and maintaining the festivity that drinking offered in the first place. But thanks to my growing collection, I know now that alcohol is not necessary. What I was truly craving is the opportunity to celebrate special occasions (or even just a relaxing evening) and to bond with friends. And for that, all you really need is a pretty glass. Get the best of news and politics Sign up for Slate's evening newsletter. Design Food Drink One Thing
I Cut Back on Drinking. But I Found the Perfect Way to Keep My Evenings Just as Sparkling.
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