Cameron Diaz retired from acting in 2017, but she should consider a career in filmmaking: Her first-ever TikTok has an aesthetic that must be described as frolicking Sapphic wine angels in a green field.
The 47-year-old&aposs first post on the viral video-sharing site shows her, in a white summer dress, legs spread, as her business partner Katherine Power pours wine from their new brand, Avaline, into Diaz&aposs mouth, using her own lips. Enya&aposs iconic mood ring of a song, “Only Time,” plays in the background. “I put out Shrek and Gangs of New York within a year of each other,” the TikTok seems to say. “Now it’s time for me to take care of myself.”
It&aposs popular to go to plastic surgeons with pictures of actors and ask for surgery to look like them. I would like to go to a professional with Cameron Diaz&aposs TikTok and ask to have my entire life remade in its image.
The video is an advertisement for a wine company, but it’s also an erotic marriage of nature and female entrepreneurship that overwhelms the senses. The throw blanket in the background! The soft flow of the stone fountain! The ruffle on Power&aposs heaving chest! The thin gold band on Diaz&aposs arched wrist! “Who can say where the road goes? Where the day flows? Only time,” does sound like something you would say if you had been drinking in a sun soaked backyard for many hours with Cameron Diaz.
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This is how I would always like my capitalism delivered to me—in a bucolic, 10-second video that instantly requires me to reevaluate my own heterosexuality. Somewhere the CEO of Anthropologie is calling an emergency board meeting so that the company can study this video.
The clip takes on TikTok&aposs popular wine challenge, and advertises Avaline, Diaz and Power&aposs “clean, delicious, organic” wine company. Avaline, which launched just weeks ago, sells a dry white and a light rosé, and bills its wines as “full of natural goodness and nothing that doesn’t belong.”
The wine’s quality remains to be seen. The quality of Avaline’s marketing—the way watching it has the power to transport one from dingy, threadbare sweatpants into a barefoot backyard paradise—is enough to make you feel pleasantly tipsy.
Jenny Singer is a staff writer for Glamour. You can follow her on Twitter.
Originally Appeared on Glamour