"Not the power of disruption. The power of discernment."
Someone asked me recently what I thought was a good question to put to another person: If you had two drinks that tasted identically delicious, and one had alcohol and the other didn't, what would guide the choice?
I said yes, it's a good question. And what would you choose?
He paused. Then he said, I don't know. I don't know why I would choose alcohol.
It was a quiet moment, almost incidental. But it carried a bigger truth than most realize.
For a long time, we have described shifts like this as a movement toward alternatives. New materials. New technologies. New ways of consuming. But that framing misses what is actually happening. This is not a proliferation of substitutes. It is a reordering of where value is held.
The pillars that once defined traditional categories—origin, intention, craft, care—were never the exclusive property of the traditional expression. They are portable. They can be carried into new forms, and often are. A lab-grown diamond is not an imitation. It is a diamond, formed differently, often with greater structural perfection. A zero-proof wine made with rigor begins in the vineyard, shaped by terroir, guided through fermentation, and only then recalibrated. What remains is not an absence. It is a different expression of the same intent.
The question is no longer whether something measures up to the original. It is how value was being assigned in the first place.
The pandemic did something to this conversation that is worth naming. When mortality stopped being abstract, so did the frameworks we had inherited without questioning. Health stopped meaning the absence of illness and started meaning the presence of vitality. Time stopped feeling infinite. The rituals we had performed on autopilot—the pour, the toast, the delayed milestone—came up for quiet review. Not with urgency. With discernment.
I saw this clearly in a conversation with a young couple choosing a ring. The intention was there. The love, the effort, the meaning of the moment. And yet they felt almost limited by what a flawed natural stone would cost them at this stage of their lives. A lab-grown diamond, flawless and by many measures more mindfully made, sat at half the price—making what they wanted not only sensible but reachable. What struck me was not the economics. It was watching inherited frameworks almost prevent two people from fully honoring a moment they had done everything right to arrive at.
This is the part that stays with me. Not the shift itself, but how long some frameworks hold their grip even after the conviction beneath them has quietly moved on. Hospitality venues watch their alcohol numbers soften and still build their menus as if nothing has changed, promoting what guests are increasingly setting down while leaving what guests are actually choosing on the margins of the page. Culinary institutions split visibly—some revising their programs with real intention, others doubling down on a singular definition of enjoyment. The guests have already moved. The rooms are still catching up.
None of this is a rejection of what came before. Origin still matters. Craft still matters. A natural diamond carries a narrative no lab can replicate, and a traditional wine holds centuries of meaning in a single glass. The point is not that the old frameworks are wrong. It is that they were never the only place where intention could live.
What is taking shape is a quieter kind of choosing. Less about adherence. More about alignment. The decision not to drink no longer requires explanation. Zero-proof is finding its place not as an exception, but as a preference. A diamond is chosen for clarity in one moment and for story in another, and both are legitimate because the person choosing is the one assigning the value.
There is a power in this that does not announce itself. Not the power of disruption. The power of discernment. To choose not based on what is prescribed, but on what feels precise in a given moment.
We are living inside a reality where value is no longer singular but shaped across origin, intention, function, and presence. That negotiation is unfinished. The older frameworks are still influential, still dominant in many rooms. But alongside them, a more individual way of choosing is taking shape—one that does not require consensus to be valid.
For those paying attention, something has already moved. Not dramatically. Definitively.
And for the rest, the question the man could not answer is already being answered, one choice at a time.
— Karen Ornstein
