Passionate plum, millennium lilac, Hawaiian wave . . . these are, believe it or not, all colours. Colours, ladies and gentleman, of my latest ‘life-changing’ vice: gel nails. Three weeks of beautifully manicured nails that seem resilient to all sorts of manual labour. We love them.

Still, as I was having my pre-holiday polish I felt slightly aggrieved at the hard press we wine writers get for the way we describe wine.

I like to think that a wine described as having a “purple core with a watery rim” is reasonably self-explanatory.

Hawaiian wave does not really say that you are about to have your nails painted silvery shades of green.

There is something very satisfying about taking yourself and your ‘passionate plum’ nails off on holiday and that is where these descriptive names are so successful — they are fun.

Wine speak often oscillates between the academically earnest and the whimsically incomprehensible. Taste is ultimately the most important part of the wine experience but colour can tell us so much and knowing how to describe it is a useful tool.

In the simplest terms white wines have a scale of colour that ranges from watery white to deep gold, whilst reds can be anything from purple to garnet. What though does this tell us?

Colour can tell us about a wine’s age, the grape variety, how it has been made and even give us some clues on provenance.

Let us compare a bright purple red wine that has a reasonably uniform appearance from core to rim against one that is more ruby with perhaps some hues of garnet. The chances are that the former is the younger of the two.

A deep yellow or even golden white could be the first clue to identifying a wine that has been fermented or aged in oak; a process that typically adds colour. On the other hand, it could be a sign that the wine now has some age.

Some of the world’s greatest Rieslings go into bottle with a decidedly lemony allure and yet will emerge a decade later looking sun-bleached. It is the magic of wine.

Cooler, less sunny climates tend to deliver grape must that is paler in colour than those that rack up more sunshine hours. You only have to compare a Pinot Noir from Burgundy with one from, say, Chile.

I often say that calling me a wine taster is only a third accurate because what I see and smell are just as important and they are invaluable when it comes to communicating about a wine — either verbally or in the written word.

I cannot imagine you would be too tempted by any wine that I had identified as being ‘cloudy’, ‘lifeless’ or ‘dull’. By contrast ‘glistening’, ‘lipstick red’ or ‘liquid gold’ sound altogether more attractive.

I am not sure we are ready to have our wines described as looking like a ‘beige soiree’ or a ‘watermelon freeze’ but maybe in the pursuit of making wine descriptions a little more fun, we could consider describing colours with a little more pizzazz. I will work on it.

You might, of course, not be in the least bit bothered about the wine but are now in a mad rush to have a row of ten Hawaiian Wave nails.