You pour a glass of Chasselas. But before the wine hits the rim, the bottle has already told you something: this wine comes from Vaud. Not from anywhere else.

The Pot Vaudois isn’t just a container. It’s a piece of wine history. It’s shape, weight, and presence all point to a very specific story—and that story is finally being poured again.

A Bottle Shaped by Time

Back in 1822, the canton of Vaud put its wine measures into law:

• Pot — 1.4L
• Demi-Pot — 0.7L
• Picholette — 0.35L

It was more than legislation. These were visual, tactile cues that told drinkers what they were being served. And for over half a century, the bottles that held Vaud’s wines kept their form.

But then came standardisation. Industrial glassmaking. And the litre. The old shapes disappeared. Vaud’s bottles were replaced with efficient ones—less character, more conformity.

Fast-forward to today: the Pot Vaudois is back

Thanks to the team at the Musée Vaudois de la Vigne et du Vin in Aigle, original bottle forms from the 1800s were preserved, studied, and finally revived. The Pot was first reintroduced in 1998. Now the Demi-Pot and Picholette are available too.

These aren’t nostalgic replicas. They’re made to be used. By real winemakers. For real wine. Right here in Vaud.

Why Shape Still Matters

There’s something about pouring from a Pot Vaudois that changes the experience. It’s heavier. It’s generous. It demands to be noticed.

The truth is, Vaud wines are often under-the-radar—even within Switzerland. And part of that is visual. When every bottle looks the same, how do you tell a story without words?

The Pot Vaudois is that story. Its design is an identity. Its glass is geography.

This isn’t a free-for-all. Only wines that meet strict standards can be bottled in these forms:

• Must be AOC Vaudois
• Must be vintage wines
• Must be bottled in the canton of Vaud

There’s a kind of integrity in that. It keeps the bottle tied to its origins. It means something.

Where to See One, Taste One, Take One Home

You’ll find these bottles in tasting rooms around Lavaux, or at the Musée Vaudois itself. (And if you’re like us, you’ll want to pick one up and run your hands along the glass before you even ask what’s inside.)

This isn’t about marketing. It’s not about standing out on a shelf. The return of the Pot Vaudois is something quieter, something more rooted.

It’s about remembering that wine isn’t just what we drink—it’s how we share it.

And sometimes, a bottle really can say where it comes from. Without saying a word.