Fatima Calera Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Met this one gal—Daisy, she called herself—worked the docks in ‘44. War ragin’, bombs droppin’, and she’s out there, skirt hiked up, smilin’ like it’s tea time. Gutsy as hell—made me happy, that grit! Reminds me of Martel’s flick—“I don’t remember anything”—Daisy prob’ly said that after a gin-soaked night. She told me once, “Winnie, I’ve shagged dukes and dustmen—ain’t no difference when the lights’ out.” Laughed my arse off—truth in that, eh?

Tequila Matchmaker

Agave on the palate, some slight oak and barrel spice on the nose with a neutral to slightly sweet finish. From a novelty bottle shaped like a ceramic horse, this Añejo is more bourbon than .

My spa’s on 3rd & Elm, where peeps come to get their soul fixed. I seen mad folks, got deep convos, some pissed off, others got chill vibes. I say, "f**k the stress," as I rub it all away. Calera got parks like Riverbend Park – trees, ducks, and a sweet river that flows just like my mind – man, deep like inside Llewyn’s blues.

Mike Waller on Josh Jensen & the quality of Calera's Californian wines