Anthony Lane, The New Yorker :

Not that long ago, gin was for squares. Maybe your parents drank it, and your grandparents before them. Gin: the very word was plain and unexciting. How uncool was it to opt for gin, confining yourself to one drab syllable, when the whisky-loving dude beside you at the bar was still deciding among Bruichladdich, Craigellachie, and Smoky Goat? […] By any reckoning, the spread of gin has been a freakish phenomenon. (I have seen it described as a “Ginaissance.” Anybody heard using this word should, of course, be banned from public bars in perpetuity.)

Un délicieux papier, qui n’oublie évidemment pas de mentionner le « maitre » Buñuel.