In the city (Louisville, KY), every respectful nest-building hipster (and everyone else, really) owns at least one commemorative Kentucky Derby souvenier glass. Although they are ever present in the cupboards and cabinets of just about every Kentuckianian (that's KY + Indiana + "ian," a term used for anyone living in or within driving distance of Louisville), they tend to have two different groups of enthusiasts: The afore-mentioned nesting hipsters, and the people who I would call "collectors."
The hipster types can really get behind the regional flavor of the Derby glass' particular brand of kitsch. Their devotion may seem, on the surface, to be reminiscent of the typical hipster pseudo-clever irony (usually laced with the requisite whimsical retro referencing and inclusion of things of the "so uncool its cool" persuasion). You could infer that this group likes Derby glasses in the same way that most young people claim to "like" things these days: the way anyone "likes" Sammy Hagar or the original Battlestar Galactica or Chuck Norris (clue-in: NO ONE really likes those things in a genuine way). But, surprisingly, you'll find a refreshing authenticity behind the hipster affinity for them, a sense of insider privilege and a genuine pride for one's hometown: embodied by collectible tumblers. And they look especially handsome when filled with ice and bourbon.
As for the collectors, I witness no real joy or pride in their reasoning. These are the sort that gather at the big flea markets around town, sometimes renting booths and charging large quantities of cash for things like dirty silverware, busted furniture, "antiques" and various brick-a-brack gotten on the cheap from estate sales. They usually subscribe to the more humorless end of the "gotta catch 'em all" spectrum. For them its all business, and these sorts are the jerks who show up, pre-dawn, in December at the local Toys R Us to buy the entire shipment of Tickle Me Elmos, ruthlessly crushing all unfortunate souls between themselves and the palette full of Christmas Ebay gold. These obsessive nutjobs have multiples from every year they ever made Derby glasses, and by the way, they "know what they're worth" and want top dollar, Jackson! I mention them to acknowledge the darker side of the Derby glass, a counterpoint to the sunny side of hipster love. A collecter would never use a Derby glass for its original intention (holding a beverage), whereas the hipster set generally has Derby glasses in their dish rotation, holding drinks right there on their counter tops next to thrift store coffee mugs and Target wine glasses.
Shockingly, I own only the three Derby glasses pictured above: #'s 131 (2005), 132 (2006) & 135 (2009). They represent the 3 occassions I have ever actually been to Churchill Downs, although never actually ON Derby day (a local holiday in which business shuts down, schools are let out, and everyone's drunk by 2pm). For an extra 6 bucks or so you can purchase a drink at the track in the year's official glass, which is exactly what I always do (otherwise, I would probably have no idea I was actually AT Churchill in 2005, my memory being not so hot for dates).
Owning a Derby glass is one mark of being a local (for better or worse), and a fun way to mark the passing of time. It's the yardstick of local pride, the perfect vessel for bourbon-related bartending experimentation, and a little bit of class in a kitschy little glass, my friends.
Posts
