In the 90 minutes I spend with Ludovic du Plessis at Champagne Telmont, his sustainable vineyard in Damery, France, he doesn’t once mention star investor Leonardo DiCaprio. He doesn’t have to. Photos of du Plessis with the Hollywood eco-warrior are sprinkled around the sleek winery, on its website and Instagram feed. Besides which, Telmont already has a pin-up front man in du Plessis himself. Spending any time at all with Telmont’s 49-year-old president, one could be forgiven for thinking: Leo who?
Since 2020, when he convinced his employer Rémy Cointreau to buy a majority stake in the 111-year-old label in the storied Champagne region, du Plessis has pushed the green agenda as if he were DiCaprio himself. Calling himself an “intrapreneur” within the mothership, he nixed herbicides and spearheaded a program of biodiversity, planting lush borders and fruit orchards to enrich the soil and lure fauna to the vineyard. Then he banned gift boxes entirely. “The best packaging,” he says, “is no packaging.” This year he switched to a recycled-glass bottle that weighs 100 grams less than the standard clear-glass version. “Just by doing that, we reduce 8 per cent of our carbon footprint.”
The dark side of popping champagne
Back in 2003, Champagne became the first wine region to assess its environmental impact. Subsequent plans to cut a quarter of all carbon emissions by 2025 are well under way, including initiatives similar to Telmont’s. For example, the regional institute, Comité Champagne, is trialling a fungus-resistant grape variety called voltis at its experimental vineyard near Epernay. The idea is to adapt this new grape to local production methods and blends, while drastically reducing pesticide use – and eliminating herbicides altogether.
The world’s top-six-biggest Champagne brands (Moët & Chandon, Dom Pérignon, Veuve Clicquot, Krug, Ruinart and Mercier) share an environmental manifesto that lines up with the national goal that every Champagne vineyard go 100 per cent organic by 2030. Louis Roederer gets positive press for its claim to operate Champagne’s largest biodynamic vineyard. Yet their combined efforts are lagging. Today only 8 per cent of Champagnes are certified organic or in conversion (compared with 20 per cent of non-fizzy wines). That percentage might have been higher had 2021 not brought a disastrous harvest, scaring many winemakers before the bumper crop that was 2022.
Enter evangelists like du Plessis and friends to help convert – and finance – hundreds of other growers. Notably, the natural-wine market is a flourishing segment of the €6-billion ($8.8-billion) Champagne industry, so there’s plenty of success to be had. And for du Plessis, “the eco-strategy is not and/or. It’s just and.”
With Rémy’s blessing, he persuaded half his “partners” – the winegrowers who top up Telmont’s stock of chardonnay, meunier and pinot noir grapes – to adopt the more expensive, no-guarantees practice of organic farming. “I convinced them one by one, and they are changing – because I’m paying for it.” The money, he says, will stop in 2031, when partner vineyards are expected to receive their 100 per cent organic certification. Currently, 75 per cent of Telmont’s own wine fields are certified organic.
His strategy is already starting to bear fruit. The label has been fielding requests from overseas, including Canada, where consumption of sparkling wine is nearly 25 million litres annually. In November, Telmont’s Brut Reserve and Brut Rosé Reserve started appearing on liquor-store shelves in British Columbia and Alberta in a stout new green glass bottle designed by French sustainable-glass maker Verallia. (Quebec’s SAQ will have Telmont in stock in January, with the LCBO in Ontario following in spring.) After eliminating air freight for its supply and distribution, Telmont now fulfills orders by Neoline wind-powered ships.
The unofficial face of Telmont is a role du Plessis takes as seriously as a method actor. Every Monday, he pedals his Brompton bike from Paris, hops the TGV train to Epernay, then cycles along the Marne River path to Telmont’s headquarters. You can watch the GoPro videos on his Instagram.
Still, he uses star power to fuel Telmont’s success on the world stage. Last May, after DiCaprio acquired his “significant” share in the company, Telmont took over as the official Champagne of the Cannes Film Festival. In June, du Plessis brought Michelin “green star” chefs to cook for a celebrity dinner at the winery.
And though stars have long been photographed promoting it, in fiction and in real life, Champagne has never been so entwined with celebrity than today. Mariah Carey has her own brand, Angel, and Brad Pitt owns Château de Miraval, which produces its own bubbly. Years ago, Jay-Z invested in the Champagne winery Armand de Brignac, in Chigny-les-Roses, France, after boycotting the onetime rapper-favourite Cristal. (The chief executive officer of parent company Louis Roederer had expressed antipathy toward Cristal’s association with rap culture.)
Telmont’s celebrity courtships have a less polished sheen. In July, du Plessis spent three days playing host to Shailene Woodley, veteran of Greenpeace, Standing Rock and Big Little Lies. And both took to Instagram with photos of pastoral vistas and half-empty glasses. “It is not surprising to me that the dude (@leonardodicaprio) who has in many ways been a true leader in the environmental movement for decades has aligned w them,” wrote Woodley. “He knows what’s up + i trust his judgment when it comes to our beautiful planet.”
Du Plessis’s marketing savvy helps to give Telmont an air of cultishness. Chef de cave Bertrand Lhopital, an amiable character in Stanley Tucci glasses, is known within the company as the Grapefather. The company’s motto – Au Nom de la Terre, or “in the name of Mother Nature” – is emblazoned on every barrel and etched into the glass walls of the tasting room. When I visited during Telmont’s summer festival, du Plessis tried to interest me in a Nom de la Terre tattoo from an artist operating on the grounds. “I’m kidding,” he says. “It fades in five days.”
Of course, success will come down to the taste of the stuff. Do his tiny bubbles represent, as du Plessis claims, “the Champagne of Champagnes?” Or will the Big Six continue to reign supreme? Perhaps after a few flutes of Telmont Brut Reserve, most people can be convinced of anything.