Dear Reader—Like many writers, I develop hard crushes on certain words. Imported idioms and industry jargon top my list—they confer an insiderness that professional outsiders relish.

My latest is avinage, a French wine term for rinsing a glass with a splash of the wine about to be poured. The idea is to purge the vessel of what preceded it before experiencing the new. An apt word for this cultural moment, wouldn’t you say? Not least of which because the autumnal equinox occurred yesterday.

First—“autumnal equinox”—the word sounds exactly like warming one’s hands around a coffee mug only to have it suddenly crack. Also—the equinox may seem like an orderly moment of astronomical transformation but when one learns that it occurred at 5:04 pm, doesn’t it seem a bit tardy? Like it was four minutes late to a 5 pm call time? All the more reason to embrace avinage—it’s imprecise, messy—and for a moment, represents a blend of the past and future, old and new—in short, possibility.

It’s this like the Dum Dum lollipop: When the Spangler Candy Company switches flavors on its production line, the end of one batch mingles with the beginning of the next. Rather than stop the machinery and discard the accidental hybrids, the company markets them as a “Mystery Flavor.”

Is it possible to applaud the resourcefulness while ruing the capitalism? Perhaps. I think, as a culture, a people, a planet, we’ve entered our Mystery Flavor moment. But rather than choke down some unholy admixture of root beer and “blu raspberry,” I propose a little avinage. Uncork the future, rinse away the old, have a splash of the new and ask yourself, “does this vintage taste better than it did four years ago?”

Your Editor,

Daedalus Howell

Daedalus Howell does spit-takes via email newsletters at dhowell.com.