Sabrage at Sunset

The art of sabrage dates back to the French Revolution when Napoleon and his soldiers would famously strike the tops off champagne bottles with their swords. It is said that after a victory, Napoleon declared, “Champagne: in victory, one deserves it; in defeat, one needs it.” Then he struck a bottle of champagne open with his saber.

I didn’t know any of this when I was asked to be the guest of honor at the nightly sabrage ceremony at the St. Regis Chicago. I said yes, thinking it’d be an interesting experience and one my son Oliver would find entertaining.

The woman leading the ceremony explained the origin of the tradition and how St. Regis adopted it in 1904 as a way to celebrate the transition from day to night. As she spoke, she held a bottle in her left hand and a saber in her right. With one confident stroke, the top popped off and everyone clapped as champagne spilled to the floor.

It’s quite a spectacle. A ritual that turns the simple act of opening a bottle of champagne into something bold and ceremonial. There’s anticipation, a touch of drama, and joyful cheers that signal this is a moment worth savoring.

Celebrate victory, defeat, and the passing of a day–these are ideas I can get behind. I’ve always been one who likes to celebrate the small moments of life, so this ceremony resonated with me in ways I hadn’t expected.

The timing also felt symbolic. Oliver and I were in Chicago ahead of his flight to Japan the next morning. He was embarking on his first solo trip, and that felt (and still feels) monumental. My daughter, Emma, has decided she wants to stay in Spain and is beginning the visa renewal process. And I am heading to France. We’re all in transition, standing on the edge of something new.

Emma recently shared advice she had given to someone who felt uncertain about their future and wanted more clarity. Emma’s wise beyond her years, and so her advice didn’t surprise me as much as it pleased me to hear her views on life. She told this person that if they wanted an ordinary life, they could plan that out and follow it with certainty, but if they wanted an extraordinary life, they’d have to embrace the uncertainty that goes along with it. Such lives can’t be mapped. You have to take leaps, sit with fear, and trust the unknown.

I was deep in my own thoughts when the woman handed me my champagne bottle. I tried to position my hand firmly around the base, but fingers didn’t feel long enough to get a good grip. I envisioned the bottle crashing to the floor, which would be its own kind of spectacle. I placed the saber atop the seam, slid it up the bottle, and with unexpected ease, the top popped off.

There were cheers, a toast, and I was given a small velvet bag with the cork and slivered glass top inside, a small souvenir to mark the occasion.

There’s an ordinary way to open a bottle of champagne and then there’s sabrage. One is careful, controlled, predictable. The other is bold, dramatic, and demands a bit of nerve. Emma’s advice echoed this spirit: if you want an extraordinary life, you have to embrace uncertainty.

And there’s plenty of it in our futures. But standing there with the top of that bottle in my hand, it felt clear that we are choosing something extraordinary, even when we might not even be able to explain what that means.

I just hope there’s champagne waiting when we all figure it out.

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The Art of Sabrage (in case you wanted to try your hand at it)

-Young vintage champagne chilled for 24 hours between 45-48 F or 7-8 C

-Place bottle neck-down in an ice bucket 20 minutes before the ceremony

-Remove foil and unwind the wire basket

-Hold the bottle at a 45 degree angle, with the seam on top

-Run the saber along the body

-The force of the blade will break