A few years ago, my fellow students and I drank wine from coke glasses. The ones that were so often free at a fast food chain. The demands were low, the wine sweet as sugar, the nights long. But that’s different now: apart from the fact that my studies are over, the wine finally gets the recognition it deserves. Carafes are used, bulbous glasses adorn my living room showcase, Udo Jürgens’ “Greek Wine” is now sung along with much more emotion than years ago. I would be a true wine lover if there wasn’t one thing I ignorantly neglect: polishing the glasses.

Too difficult, too risky, I think. Even nerve wracking. Because it was not uncommon for wine glasses to break when they were bumped into, put down or tidied up. So how crazy would I have to be to press a cloth and wipe the thin glass?! Instead, the delicate drinking vessels usually end up in my dishwasher. With streaks, lime deposits and drops of water, I then put them back in the display case. Admittedly, it’s not nice. And that’s exactly why I’m pretty excited to test the DHDL Brilamo – a polishing stick that should simply eliminate all my worries about glass shrinkage and unsightly stains.

Efficient, simple and gentle polishing of wine glasses: That is the promise of Linda Koller, 28 years old, from Dresden. She is the inventor. A set consisting of a rod and cloth for 19.99 euros is supposed to do this. A polishing rod – the so-called Brilamo – consists of a handle with a flexible rubber attachment that can be adapted to the most varied of wine glass shapes. This should be used together with a particularly large and highly absorbent microfibre polishing cloth. The inventor is of the opinion: “Polishing wine glasses with a commercially available tea towel is often tedious. The risk of damage or glass breakage is high due to the difficult control of the pressure forces”. And is convinced: “I want to make the life of wine lovers easier in no time at all”. It’s like she’s addressing me by name and saying, “You. Yes, you. I mean you.”

The Brilamo comes in a small package – half the size of a shoebox. When opened, the rod and polishing cloth are draped in a cardboard holder. The presentation gives me the impression of high quality. I take the two objects out of the box and now have in my hands: a soft cloth and a miniature rubber nightstick – at least the Brilamo reminds me of that at first glance. So I grab one of my messed up wine glasses from the display case. Reliably, it has plenty of water stains. I follow the instructions:

1. “Grasp the glass with the polishing cloth at the lower end of the goblet, place the rest of the glass polishing cloth on the glass opening”. So far so good. Go to step two: “Insert the polishing stick into the glass so that the polishing cloth completely covers the inside”. A process that makes me nervous. I squeeze slowly, eyes narrowed. I’m not sure if the circumference of the stick together with the cloth isn’t a bit too wide and the glass opening eventually bursts open and flies in my face. But the glass stays intact. Then comes what is probably the most challenging step.

3. “Apply light pressure to the handle of the glass buffing rod to spread the fins.” So I apply pressure with an uncontrollably tense face. The slats spread, but do not reach the glass. I guess I need to apply more pressure. But I won’t. On the one hand, because I don’t want to lose any glass. On the other hand, because I don’t feel like confetti in my apartment. I move on to step 4: “Clean the glass with short, rotating movements, then polish the outside.”

My enthusiasm knows no bounds. Just like the result. I can’t really reach the glass from the inside, which is why I can’t remove stains in the bulbous part. My intuition: I pull the stick out of the glass, stuff the cloth in and polish it in the usual way. And lo and behold! It works. Unfortunately, my life is not made easier by the Brilamo – which is the actual goal of the inventor. I choose to continue being a wine lover who ignorantly neglects to polish the glasses. I send my mother a photo of the Brilamo and ask, “Can you relate to it?”. She replies, “Not really.” And that’s two of us.

All gold that glitters, or crazy idea? How do the investors see it? After all, 100,000 euros are desired for 15 percent of the company shares. You can see whether Linda Koller gets a deal tonight from 8:15 p.m. on “Die Höhle der Löwen” on Vox.

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