That’s a Wrap-a on Napa.

It came as no surprise to me that Ryan Seacrest recently offloaded his Napa Valley mansion for $18.5 million, roughly $3.5 million below its original asking price. Funny enough, shortly after news of the sale broke, another news story appeared to assure readers that Seacrest had, in fact, made a profit.

The PR person in me always suspects these “clarification” stories appear days later at the request of the subject, or someone close to the subject, to control the narrative. Yes, he sold it for considerably less than he wanted, but please know that Ryan Seacrest ultimately won.

My day job running a PR company brought me to Napa earlier this year. I was so excited by the opportunity that I canceled plans with other people, a yearly tradition, in fact, to make myself available for the job. (This was my first mistake).

The last time I was in Napa was for its now-dormant, self-titled film festival in 2014. A client of mine was starring in a movie premiering during the multi day event. That client and I still joke that our weekend in Napa was the most romantic weekend of our lives. Our relationship has been, and will always be, platonic. She is on husband number two, and I am currently between husbands. Still, we were wined, dined and ’69ed with a very fine Chappellet at the Napa Valley Film Festival in 2014. It was one of those trips so magical that every trip afterward is held up for comparison. Trying to recreate that weekend has always felt like a fool’s errand, but I am always trying to catch a wave upon the sand, I guess.

You would think that, after having such an incredible time in Napa and living only about an hour-long flight away, I would have returned sooner than 2026. I did not.

Mostly, I was too poor in the 2010s to indulge in luxury destinations unless the trip was being furnished by a movie studio or some similar entity. I did manage to treat myself to Bora Bora in 2017, which marked a turning point in my financial freedom. Funny enough, that was another extraordinarily romantic trip with a girlfriend. I remember checking into the Bora Bora hotel and asking if they had an overwater bungalow with two beds. The staff looked at me with the confusion of people being asked a question in a completely foreign language. They did not even know how to respond. In retrospect, I suppose asking for two beds at a destination synonymous with honeymoons was a little optimistic.

By the time I could afford to return to Napa, I still did not. I was waiting for the right circumstances, something that might give me an experience remotely close to the one I had in 2014.

So, when I got the opportunity to run PR for an event in Napa earlier this year that reminded me of the festival I had attended, I immediately agreed. I even accepted shitty deal terms because I wanted so badly to get back there and recapture lightning in a wine bottle.

When I arrived, everything in Napa felt terribly different.

This should not have been as shocking as it was. Nothing is quite the same after the pandemic. Still, the energy was unrecognizable.

The main blocks of town felt ghostlike. The bars and restaurants were sleepy. The most alarming moment came when my coworkers and I went in pursuit of what we kept calling a “life-changing charcuterie board.”

Because WE ARE IN NAPA.

Surely, this would not be difficult.

Alas, not a single life-changing charcuterie board could be found.

Our attempts on foot were unsuccessful, so we took to the interwebs. We quickly discovered that many local business websites looked as though they had not been updated since their Netscape era. More importantly, there were virtually no charcuterie boards on their digital menus.

This started to feel like The Twilight Zone.

How can the land of wine have no cheese?

I say this with complete awareness that this is the Whitest, most privileged, First World problem imaginable. Nonetheless, we had hit a cheese brick wall.

Eventually, we called our boutique hotel’s “concierge.” I use that term loosely because he was really just a dude who occasionally popped in and out of the property. There was no desk. There did not appear to be any formal service. Still, he answered the phone. 

We explained that we were searching for a life-changing charcuterie board and striking out like a child swinging at a piñata being operated by a grown man with repressed childhood trauma.

The concierge told us that Napa’s main cheese guy had permanently left town a few months earlier. According to him, there had not been enough business for the cheese guy to stay, so he had relocated to San Francisco full-time.

Then he delivered the final blow.

“I hate to do this,” he said, “but if you want cheese, you should check Costco or Whole Foods.”

Our hearts sank.

This also felt like Frank Wills discovering the tape on the door latch at the Watergate Hotel. This was groundbreaking.

Napa. Was out. Of cheese.

I immediately called the client I had visited Napa with in 2014. I told her to sit down before sharing what I had just learned. She was in utter disbelief. Our conversation was eulogistic.

We have all felt the “end of times” circling humanity. This news felt like the control tower had just given the end clearance for landing.

I was surrounded by PR girls when we learned this. Naturally, the question became: Do we call the New York Times reporter who covers California, or do we leave it alone?

I had already heard rumblings about Napa and the wine industry being in decline. The numbers suggest that what is happening is more complicated than an empty town, but no less concerning.

Napa still attracts millions of visitors, yet the business at the center of the destination is under real pressure. U.S. wine volume fell to approximately 329 million cases in 2025, down from nearly 411 million in 2019. In a 2026 industry survey, 48 percent of wineries said their direct-to-consumer revenue declined in 2025. Even wineries lowering their tasting fees are not necessarily seeing people return. In Napa, the average tasting still costs approximately $79, and only one-quarter of wineries that reduced fees reported an increase in tourism.

The people may still be coming, but they are not buying, joining wine clubs or spending the way they once did. 

I actually saw hints of this shift firsthand in 2024, when my PR company represented a wine influencer. Wineries were practically begging this person to come to Napa, bring young people and help resuscitate the industry. At one point, there was discussion of installing a large tire swing at a winery as a “content moment” that might attract more Gen Z visitors. I was off camera when this was suggested, which was fortunate because I definitely grimaced at the suggestion.

Here we were, two years later, and Napa’s energy reminded me of visiting someone I loved in hospice care. Bleak.

I had brought BESTIES with me because I no longer travel without them. I took two to lift my spirits and had a realization: The growth of products such as BESTIES is not happening separately from wine’s decline. Both are expressions of the same cultural shift.

People really are drinking less.

In both 2025 and 2026, only 54 percent of American adults told Gallup that they drink alcohol. That is the lowest percentage Gallup has recorded since it began tracking the behavior in 1939. In 2026, 17 percent of Americans also said they had replaced alcohol with nonalcoholic beverages.

Meanwhile, no-alcohol products are growing. IWSR estimates that the global volume of no-alcohol beer, wine, spirits and ready-to-drink products grew 9 percent in 2025. It expects the category to grow another 36 percent between 2024 and 2029. No-alcohol beer, wine and liquor are no longer sad little substitutes hidden at the bottom of a menu. They are becoming their own social category.

The major alcohol companies see it. Beer brands are launching zero-proof versions of their flagship products. Distillers are producing 0.0 percent spirits. Restaurants are building serious nonalcoholic cocktail menus (I feel like the term “mocktails” has been retired, because it’s no longer for children). 

Las Vegas is also confronting a version of the same identity crisis. The Strip is not dead, but its total revenue and gaming revenue both declined 3.7 percent in fiscal year 2025. More interestingly, resorts are experimenting with a very un-Vegas proposition: wellness.

There are now poolside Pilates classes (“poolates”), floating sound baths, sober dance events, meditation, organic skincare pop-ups, recovery treatments, superfood vendors and green juice happening alongside the cabanas. Resorts World launched Poolside Pulse, combining fitness classes with an afternoon pool party. LIV Beach introduced Sunday Circuit, a wellness event offering workouts, skincare, juices and community programming.

You know change is upon us when Sin City wants you to find your Qi. What Happens in Vegas…can put your chakras into alignment?! #2026

People are ditching alcohol at record numbers for healthier alternatives to feel good.

BESTIES is a modern self-care company, and the mushroom boom is getting louder as cultural conversations expand and legislation signals greater acceptance of the broader category. Consumers are looking for functional products, altered rituals and new ways to decompress without losing the next day.

Should Napa wineries start growing mushrooms in its wine cellars?

Honestly, probably.

Above ground, California growers are also confronting increasing pressure involving heat, wildfire risk and water availability. Napa County has repeatedly used more groundwater than local sustainability targets recommend. Wine grapes are not disappearing tomorrow, but maintaining the status quo is becoming more expensive, more precarious and less culturally relevant.

Will shifting to mushrooms save Napa? I have no idea.

But I am confident that Napa cannot preserve itself by pretending consumer behavior has not changed. It needs a stronger pivot toward affordability, modern self-care and experiences that leave guests feeling truly renewed. Plus, the outdoors of Northern California are primed for plant-based medicine experiences and, where legal and responsibly administered, more expansive personal journeys.

People used to try to heal through drinking. Now, more of us understand that treating our wounds with alcohol often prolongs the pain.

The desire to feel good mentally, emotionally, psychologically and physically has reached new heights. Mushrooms are becoming one mainstream tool in that pursuit.

I would love to see a Mushroom Maison in Napa Valley offering fun mushroom flights, outdoor sound baths, candlelit conversations and guided experiences beneath the trees.

Maybe a cold plunge. Maybe a facial. Definitely a cheeseboard. 

Xo,

Tess (Co-Founder, BESTIES)