Swan Song

Amelia Diamond | July 15, 2014

Birds of a feather takeover Instagram together

There is no shortage of rosé on Instagram. In fact, it’s recently gotten to the point where a lack of rosé in hand during any warm weather activity causes people to feel like a failure. If a tree falls in the forest but no one’s around, it definitely makes a sound — it’s called, “Boom.” (Or, “HEY GUYS I’M FALLING WATCH OUT.”) But sitting on the beach without Instagramming your pink drink is like announcing to the world that you did not just have a weekend. Maybe you don’t even know what fun is.

After all, as the account @YesWayRosé likes to say, it’s #summerwater.

The remedy to my own existential panic became apparent when a photo surfaced of an old collegiate friend holding her signature water bottle of Franzia. Genius. All I had to do was pack a rosé roadie — or as I like to call it, on-the-gosé — and keep it on me at all times, with a frosted glass, just in case. I might even save the day:

“Hang on guys!,” I’d announce while pouring wine into a cup bravely from the 2nd-down tier of a share-house human pyramid. “Ok, the rosé’s ready. We can take the picture now.” And then everyone would applaud my resourcefulness, because everyone knows that a group shot isn’t worth posting without Sancerre’s hotter sister.

But just as the saying goes that when man plans, god laughs, I came up with the rosé solution and a new major problem occurred: the pool swan.


Not that kind. Although real birds creep me out too.

This kind.


There we go.

The pool swan is the new symbol of fun. It is the epitome of a good weekend. Your tan tells me nothing. Your sunburn just looks painful. Your hangover is a joke and your neon wristband is worthless because if Valencia rosé was summer water, the Instagrammed pool swan just pooped in it.

Now why is this a problem?

For one, a pool swan cannot be packed conveniently in a water bottle. Even if it could, a single pool swan takes four hours to deflate and requires the cheek expansion plus lung capacity of Louis Armstrong-meets-Dizzy Gillespie to fill back up. This means that in order to ensure fun at all times, every weekend, I’m going to have to start strapping a gigantic white BIRD to my back just in case I’m at a pool party without one.

That’s the other thing. I’m not sure about the social protocol of being at a pool party without one. Is that even allowed? To be caught in a situation without blush colored wine is sort-of-okay when you consider open container laws or the fact that not everyone drinks, but what excuse do any of us have to be near a body of man-made water without a dinosaur-sized chicken? None. We have none. Do you feel my anxiety now?

Rosé was a club that anyone could gain access to. All you needed was an ID that scanned, a filter that flattered and a budget that matched your amateur sommelier palette — no one had to know that you were drinking ten dollar wine. This stupid pool swan, however, is a little bit more exclusive. At $49 a pop, it’s definitely more expensive, and the fact that it requires a POOL to make contextual sense quite honestly means that it’s high maintenance as fuck. Can’t just bust out my pool swan on the subway and be like, #STAYCATION, now can I?

But that doesn’t mean I didn’t just go on eBay and buy one.

Feature Image shot by Gabor Jurina, Additional images via Instagram