The Bargain Browser
This is me. I am a bargain browser. I spend an inordinate amount of time (yes, it can be an hour or two) in the wine section hunting down that particular bottle that hopefully has been overlooked by others for years. The gem. Perfection for under $20. The bragging rights are well worth it. I could write a book about my escapades in this regard, but one of my favorites was buying my own wine, a very rare, fine and expensive bottle too, for less than I had originally sold it for. I actually felt guilty. For a millisecond.

Mr. and Mrs. Cheap
These people may make millions each month after taxes, but you sure wouldn’t know it when you have a glass of vino at their place. I’ll make you an even wager it’s Two Buck Chuck, or, if it was available, Half-a-Bill Will. The deal here is that the Cheaps can’t taste the difference – and if you can’t taste the difference, why pay the difference?

The Trendinista
You are the person who reads this column every week without fail, subscribes to Wine X Magazine, Natalie Maclean Online, Gang of Pour, Cheers UK and never misses Lettie Teague’s column in Food & Wine. Your rule of thumb on packaging cues is The Smaller the Label, The Better the Wine. Your idea of bliss is when Whole Foods finally carries vin jaune from the Jura. Your ideal wine to start off the evening meal is brachetto. Over ice. Your favorite catchphrase is, “that is so two vintages ago.” You are consumed by vinous lust and desire. No one ever has the wine you are looking for, so you are continually making compromises, noisily. Shopkeepers consider you a pain in the ass because you always “special order” impossible bottles that no one makes a dime on. You probably write a wine column, or at least do a wine radio or television segment.

The Creature o’ Habit
This person has been buying the same exact wine for two decades. This person is upset that there are vintages. This person once wrote a strongly worded letter to the winery concerning a label change five years ago. This person shows up at the store at 3:32 p.m. on Wednesdays. The store carries the particular wine for this person only.

The Delegator
This is everyone’s dream come true, and is the model for how good old-fashioned wine shops work. This is a regal sort of shopper, sort of rare theses days, but more prevalent in urban areas and in established suburbs. A sighting can be a real thrill. She’s on a first-name basis with the shopkeeper. “Nathan,” she’ll say, “I’m having a casual get-together Saturday afternoon for six ladies, then dinner that night with the family – we’re having lamb – and then Sunday after the game Stan’s folks are coming over with some old friends. I think there will be 10 or 12 of us. Anyway, we’re doing steaks. Semi-formal.”

Nathan says okay and later delivers the wines (and perhaps some spirit, aperitif and mixer choices) to her home. Any unused products are returned. The purchases are either billed or applied to The Delegator’s credit card on file. Sometimes The Delegator does this over her cell phone. Wow. Wasn’t that great?

Mr. Bulk Man
This dude can’t buy less than two cases at a time. What’s really amazing is watching him shop: he just kinda grabs things. Some labels get a quick look, others go right into the waiting empty case in his shopping cart without so much as a sidewise glance. He loves his 15% discount. He gives a lot of wine away to friends, which makes Mr. Bulk Man very popular with others. He’s gregarious, garrulous, and kinda clueless. God bless him.

Pointy Head
This fellow is really worth waiting for in a store, just to get the reaction from the shopkeeper. Pointy Head always brings research materials: The Wine Advocate and The Wine Spectator are his bibles, and he usually starts the conversation thusly: “I’m looking for wines ______ points or higher.”

Yep. Pointy Head doesn’t care if it’s white or red or sparkling or French or German or made of yaks’ blood and nuclear waste imported from Neptune. Just gotta have X points or higher. Of course, Pointy Head does nothing else in his life like this; only wine, and maybe stock purchases. He doesn’t watch television by which shows get the highest ratings, or movies by which ones got the highest grosses, or listen to music by which ones are on the top of the charts, or read books by which ones are “top ten or better” on the New York Times bestseller list. Just wine.  Oh – and Pointy Head is a wine expert (just ask him), even though he has not actually consumed the majority of the wines he has purchased.

The only way Pointy Head will be weaned from the tyranny of the Advocate and Spectator’s point systems is when some genius (Google Guys – are you reading?) comes up with way to rate which wines will most impress one’s social-climbing friends. Then Ol’ Pointy will really have something!

P.S. —Pointy Head is never female.