I don't want to say I'm addicted, because I'm not. I'm not out throwing back bottles of Lillet and Aperol as I escort my fully inebriated and barely conscious self to an AA meeting. But I am (more than) willing to fork over $20+ for a bottle of an aperitif wine, mostly because I've become a snob stuck in the 1920's (?) and all I want to do is turn my nose up and sip my light, aromatic, citrusy wine in a smoked filled room, wearing a flapper's outfit. Just give me a Cruella De Ville cigarette and a long fur coat to satisfy my imagination.
And that is exactly what that one night at The Fat Lady has done to me. When this phase will pass I don't know, but as one band once wisely wrote, "[I've] got stuck in a moment, and now [I] can't get out of it." But I guess my moment is a little less depressing and a little more fun.
Random note: I discovered Lillet at La Scoula in Walnut Creek and then quickly went to a wine shop to snag me a bottle. Something to enjoy over a second viewing of The Illusionist? Absolutely.