Arcane Dining Oddities: Papier-Mâché Wine Coasters

English Regency papier-mâché wine coasters nestle a pair of ring-neck 

decanters of the same period

Photo: Chronica Domus

I have long admired the elegant appurtenances of well laid dining tables of Regency England. Aesthetically restrained in form, they were the antithesis of excessive fussiness associated with Victorian tastes. And, unlike the confounding array of dining implements that materialized during Victoria's reign, which have long passed from favor (ice cream forks anyone?), basic dining utensils and table articles of the Regency are still recognizable to modern diners.  There is, however, one very practical item that has regrettably vanished from the landscape of the dining table; the papier-mâché wine coaster.

Our small but growing collection of early-nineteenth century papier-mâché wine coasters

Photo: Chronica Domus

Bottle coasters, decanter slides, or wine coasters are all terms used to describe the same thing.  Its purpose is to facilitate the act of sliding or coasting wine or spirit decanters to one's fellow dining companions with ease.  Baize, a coarse woolen material typically green in color, lines the bottom surface of this useful table article. It is the baize that ultimately enables the wine coaster to glide, or coast, across the polished surface of a dining table.

Although faded, the baize on this wine coaster, circa 1810, is original

Photo: Chronica Domus

Of course, if the table is to be set with a cloth, wine coasters are checked in their purpose and impeded from sliding. They do still function toward more practical ends, keeping them relevant, at least in our household. Who, I ask you, enjoys the labor of removing wine stains from their napery? Not I! So, when these coasters are set beneath our glass decanters, they do an admirable job of corralling the errant dribble of wine which may escape even the most careful of host.  One's lily white tablecloth remains just so.

Evidently, the tipsy Prince Regent chose wisely when selecting the color of his tablecloth. His over-worked wine coaster stood little chance of containing the waterfall of drips created during his bacchanalian bender

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You may be asking yourself why on earth such a thing might be constructed of paper, as moisture is its natural enemy.  As you may well imagine, papier-mâché wine coasters are somewhat of a rarity nowadays, at least when compared to their sturdier cousins born of silver and wood.  I am confident their scarcity has everything to do with the fact that great numbers of them were ruined through use, despite their lacquered surface which, in theory, promised a more durable finish.

This pair of deep green colored wine coasters, circa 1815 to 1820, is in exceptional shape due to the lacquered surface remaining intact

Photo: Chronica Domus

Ultimately, the passage of time would lead to their demise.  The modern habit of serving wine directly from the bottle did not help their cause either.  Although the majority of today's vintners employ modern filtration methods, eliminating pesky sediment and a genuine need to decant, we still opt to press our pretty decanters and their corresponding coasters into service. Besides, red wines in particular can benefit from aeration.  Surprisingly, so do whites. Unless you use a dedicated wine refrigerator that is perfectly programmed to cool white wines, most standard refrigerators overly-cool them.  Decanting lessens the chill factor making the experience of sipping a glass or three of Sauvignon blanc a far more delightful experience. Cheers!

Here's a snap of a dinner party we held for friends this past April showing the placement of our decanters and papier-mâché coasters at the head and foot of the dining table (prior to my husband having filled them). So much nicer than plonking bottles of wine directly on the table, would you not agree?

Photo: Chronica Domus

The papier-mâché wine coasters in our collection all date to the first half of the nineteenth century and are all English.  They make the perfect foil for the Regency period ring-neck decanters that rest within them during our dinner parties.

I purchased my first wine coaster, seen in the following photograph, from a dealer in London about a dozen years ago.  He told me that black coasters are as scarce as hen's teeth, which, of course immediately made me wonder if I would ever find another like it to assemble a pair. All these years later, I am still on the hunt. The sole decoration embellishing this coaster, which dates to about 1810, is a fine charcoal colored stripe around its top and base, sublimely subtle and rather lovely to my eye.

Photo: Chronica Domus

A more fanciful version for these papier-mâché wine coasters came in the form of a trolley.  Oh, the spectacle of sending these delightful vehicles into action and observing them being wheeled from one happy imbiber to the next!  I imagine such antics could easily get a little out of hand after downing one too many.  That is, if I were anywhere near them I mean.

A rare pair of papier-mâché decanter trolleys, circa 1850-20, could be yours for
the princely sum of $12,850

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I am not certain what this lozenge-shaped early toleware piece was intended for, but when I spotted its gilded tendrils and vine leaf decoration, I had to add it to my collection for use as a wine coaster.

What could this early toleware object have held?

Photo: Chronica Domus

Luckily for me, it is perfectly proportioned to hold a pair of early-nineteenth century barrel-shaped cut glass spirit decanters. I am, to say the least, thrilled with it.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Perhaps you too will unearth a wine coaster on your travels to a preferred antiques shop or an auction room.  If ever you do, I would encourage you to consider its purchase.

Photo: Chronica Domus

For the next time someone asks you to "Pass the port, please!", you'll not only be doing so with style and ease, but with the knowledge that your tabletop is to remain unmarred from the effects of a good vintage.