James, a Toronto tax lawyer, has a very happy marriage. He shares everything with his wife - everything, that is, except how much wine he's buying.
"I have stashes in lots of different places," he admits guiltily over the phone from his Bay Street office (he agreed to be interviewed on condition that his real name not be used). "I have periodically spent thousands of dollars on wine unbeknownst to my wife."
The need for subterfuge came about, he says, after his wife looked at a credit-card statement several years ago and told him, "No more wine for six months."
James agreed with her in principle. Then his agent came a-calling with the latest limited-edition vintages. James couldn't resist: He got a friend to buy the wine for him, then purchased it back at a later date.
As the popularity of wine continues to grow among the nation's chattering classes, more enthusiasts are finding their obsession driving them to spend far more on their cellars than their spouse might approve of. The solution? Don't tell the wife. All it takes is a private vault, a discreet agent and a group of like-minded tipplers with whom you can appreciate your illicit bouquet.
Stephen Grant, 59, a senior partner with McCarthy Tétrault LLP, understands the drive to acquire an obscene amount of fermented grape juice.
He has two personal wine cellars and a collection of several thousand bottles, mostly French Burgundies and Bordeaux.
"It's a profound and steady relationship," he explains.
"It's a serious fascination and an obsessive pursuit of an aesthetic enlightenment as to the perfect place, the perfect time, the perfect wine," Mr. Grant says.
It's this sort of passion - some would call it addiction - that drives some collectors to cultivate that most rarefied of possessions: a secret stash.
Todd Halpern, one of Canada's most successful wine agents, thinks the perfect collection should consist of 3,000 to 4,000 good bottles, a base of classics and a consistent turnover of new stuff.
But like all loyal agents, Mr. Halpern has been known to suggest a Plan B when a serious private collector exceeds the bounds of his home cellar - or his partner's patience.
That's where Marc Russell and his wine vault come in. Located in the King and Spadina area of downtown Toronto, the Fine Wine Reserve is a climate-controlled space where collectors can find a home for their extra stash of 1975 Petrus or La Mission Haut Brion. Thirty million dollars in fine wine is hidden behind a plain steel door labelled "Mechanical Room."
In addition to state-of-the-art security (each locker in the cellar has its own private alarm, and entry to the nondescript front door requires fingerprint access), Mr. Russell guarantees total privacy and discretion for those looking to store a little something extra on the side.
"If you want to do well in this business, you have to keep your mouth shut," he said. "I definitely have clients who are sheepish and embarrassed about it and say, 'Don't tell anyone.' It's a collecting bug and they've caught it."
Mr. Grant, who counts many collectors in his direct social circle, says he's seen firsthand the domestic tension caused by a burgeoning cellar. "I know guys who've spent lots and lots of money on their obsession instead of paying off the mortgage," he concedes. "It's a hobby that can get in the way of balancing household budgets."
Of course, collectors would argue that it's merely a savvy investment: Over the past 20 years the value of fine European wines (particularly Bordeaux and Burgundy) has risen exponentially, Mr. Halpern says. But, he adds, there is a tipping point with wine where passion transforms into something more insatiable.
