I started Aunt Alice in 2016 because I wanted to make wine my own way - no rulebook, no safety net, and definitely no romantic winery inheritance waiting in the wings. By that point, I’d already spent years in the industry across multiple regions, alongside studying winemaking and oenology at the University of Adelaide. Although truthfully, I learned just as much from my mistakes in the shed as I ever did from a textbook (and they tend to stick better).

Aunt Alice was built the hard way: hand-picked fruit, borrowed spaces, late nights bottling and labelling everything by hand. I worked two jobs to get it off the ground, had a kid along the way, and kept going on equal parts stubbornness, curiosity, and not knowing when to quit (arguably a strength). The reality is, I probably couldn’t do anything else even if I tried. I’m completely obsessed with the details and nuance of wine, and how one small decision in the vineyard or winery can shape something entirely different in the glass.

Being a woman in this industry comes with its own set of challenges. It’s frustratingly familiar: being underestimated, undervalued, and having to prove yourself over and over while watching men of the same age (often with less talent) get promoted and celebrated. There’s something about a 100% women-owned and run wine brand that seems to rub some people the wrong way, but that just makes me more determined to make wines that speak for themselves.

What I love most about wine, though, is what happens after it leaves the bottle. A glass of wine between friends has a way of breaking down barriers — it loosens things, opens people up, and makes space for honesty. It’s in those moments that people say what they really mean, share what they really want, and connect in a way that feels genuine and unforced. That’s the part that never gets old.

These days, I’m based in Tasmania’s Huon Valley, chasing something that sounds simple but rarely is: making seriously good Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. Wines with energy, texture, and personality - the kind that actually taste like where they’re from, without being pushed around too much in the process.

Every year, I get a little better at it. The wines do too. And honestly, there’s nothing more satisfying than watching a few glasses of Chardonnay loosen lips, lift spirits, and make everyone a little braver.