Rosalía’s “Sauvignon Blanc” is the quiet, profound, and “golden” dawn that follows the apocalyptic storm of her album LUX. The song’s central meaning is one of spiritual resolution and radical peace. It is about finding the ultimate “light” (LUX) not in chaos, power, or divinity, but in total renunciation. She discovers that her true “capital” is not fame or wealth, but a simple, present, and intimate love. The song is a manual for achieving this peace, which requires her to “burn” her material world, “let her porcelain fall,” and drown her past in a glass of wine.
This track, arriving late in the album, is the answer to every question LUX has posed. After the violent conflict of “mundo” (world) versus “Dios” (God), the pain of her “relics,” the chaotic fusion of “Berghain,” and the apocalyptic vows of “La Yugular,” this song is the exhalation. It is the sound of the war ending. She has finally found a way to be both human and holy, not by fighting, but by surrendering.
The Great Renunciation: Burning the Rolls-Royce
The song opens with one of the most powerful images of the entire album. Rosalía declares that she will light her “luz” (light) with the “Rolls-Royce that I will burn.” This is the thesis of her new life. The LUX, the divine light she has been chasing, is not a gift from heaven. It is a fire she must build herself. And the fuel for this holy fire is the ultimate symbol of earthly wealth, status, and the very materialism she has been grappling with.
This is an act of “divine ruin” turned inward. In “Porcelana,” she was a “Queen of Chaos” capable of destroying others. Here, she destroys her own world. This act of burning is the final, practical application of her “Ego sum nihil” (“I am nothing”) philosophy. To become the “light,” she must first become “nothing,” and to become “nothing,” she must destroy all the “somethings” that define her.
This is a radical act of liberation. The Rolls-Royce, a symbol of the Motomami era’s “gasolina y llantas” (gas and tires), is now nothing more than kindling for her new, spiritual flame. She is not just rejecting wealth; she is using it as a sacrifice to purchase her peace.
She explicitly states this goal. She knows she will “earn” her peace only when there is “nothing left to lose.” Peace, for her, is not an addition; it is a subtraction. It is the state of total emptiness. This is the final evolution of the “Queen of Chaos.” The Queen has realized her throne is a prison and has decided to burn it, finding her true power in having no power at all.
A New Economy: ‘Your Love Will Be My Capital’
After destroying her old form of value, Rosalía immediately defines her new one. She sings that she “no longer wants pearls or caviar.” This is a profound and direct lyrical callback. The “pearls” (“perlas”) are a specific rejection of the toxic, superficial, and hollow value system described in her earlier track, “La Perla.” She is explicitly renouncing that entire world of false beauty and the “playboys” who inhabit it. “Caviar” is simply another symbol of the empty luxury that defines that “mirage.”
In place of this, she establishes a new, sacred economy. “Your love will be my capital,” she declares. This is the new “golden” standard. Her wealth, her value, her security, and her entire “capital” are no longer stored in banks, cars, or jewelry. They are stored in the intangible, emotional, and spiritual bond she shares with her partner, the “Mio Cristo” figure from “Mio Cristo Piange Diamanti.”
This single line redefines the entire concept of “worth” for the album. The “coins in throats” (“Sexo, Violencia y Llantas”) that represented the choking, toxic nature of money are gone. Her new “capital” is this one, holy relationship. This love is not just a “bonus” in her life; it is now her only asset, the very foundation of her existence.
This is why she can burn everything else. She is not becoming “poor”; she is simply liquidating her old, worthless assets and moving all of her “capital” into this new, divine currency. This is the source of her new peace. She can say, “What does it matter? If I have you, I don’t need anything else.” This is the first moment of true, uncomplicated contentment in the entire LUX narrative. The infinite, restless “hunger” of “Dios Es Un Stalker” and “La Yugular” is finally satiated.
The Sacrament of Sauvignon Blanc: A ‘Golden’ Future
The song’s chorus centers on the titular “Sauvignon Blanc.” The choice of wine is deeply symbolic. This is not the dark, pounding, and dangerous “Berghain” club. It is not the “divine ruin” or the “beautiful hurricane.” Sauvignon Blanc is a wine known for its clarity. It is crisp, light, and often “golden” in color. It is a symbol of sophistication, yes, but also of relaxation, conversation, and peace.
This wine is her new sacrament. The setting for her new life is not a “cathedral” or a “throne.” It is simply “at your side.” Her new heaven is not the “eighth” or “thousandth” heaven she was chasing in “La Yugular.” Her heaven is a small, quiet, earthly moment: drinking a glass of wine with the person who is her “capital.” This is the “mundo” (world) and “Dios” (God) finally at peace, fused in a single, simple, human act.
From this place of peace, she can finally look forward. “My future will be golden,” she sings. “Dorado” (golden) is the color of LUX. It is the color of light, of divinity, of halos, and of sacred “relics.” After an entire album of chaos, violence, and uncertainty, this is the first time she has expressed total security about her future. Her future is not “chaotic” or “broken”; it is “golden.”
This “golden” future is guaranteed by her new “capital.” Because her wealth is stored in this unshakeable love, her future is secure. She has found the ultimate, divine “return on investment.”
Drowning the Past: The Alchemy of the Glass
The most important therapeutic breakthrough of the album occurs in the chorus. “I’m no longer afraid of the past,” she declares. This is a monumental statement. The entire LUX narrative, and her “porcelain” identity, has been defined by her past: the “fights” in her hands (“La Yugular”), the “broken” corners (“Porcelana”), the trail of “losses” (“Reliquia”), and the “baggage” of her critics (“Porcelana”).
How does she finally overcome this fear? She explains: “It’s at the bottom of my glass of Sauvignon Blanc.” This is a stunning metaphor for trauma integration. The past has not been erased. It has not been forgotten. It is still there. But it has “sunk” (“se hundió”). It has settled at the bottom of the glass, like sediment.
Her new life, the “Sauvignon Blanc,” has surrounded her past. The “golden” light of her new love has illuminated her darkness, and in doing so, has taken away its power. The past is no longer a “minefield” (“La Perla”) that she has to navigate. It is just sediment. By drinking the wine, she is performing an act of alchemy. She is absorbing her past, integrating her “broken” pieces, and neutralizing them with the “capital” of her new love.
She is no longer “running” from her past or “frightened” by it. She is calmly, quietly drinking it, processing it, and letting it settle. The “broken” parts of her “porcelain” are no longer a source of “divine ruin”; they are just the settled dregs at the bottom of a glass of wine, a reminder of a story that is finally over.
The Final Surrender: ‘My Porcelain, I Will Let It Fall’
The second verse is a list, a final inventory of her renunciation. It is the sound of her emptying her “vessel” of all its old contents to make room for the new “golden” future.
First, she states, “I will listen to my God.” This is a complete transformation from “Dios Es Un Stalker.” The “hunt” is over. The “race” is over. The “kidnapping” is over. Now, there is only listening. This is the sound of peace. Her “God” is no longer an external, obsessive force, but her inner, “divinized” voice, or the “Mio Cristo” she is sitting beside. The divine “intervention” is no longer needed because she is finally in a state of calm, receptive dialogue.
Next, she discards the symbols of her old self. “My Jimmy Choo I will throw them away.” This is a direct echo of “Reliquia,” where she “lost her heels in Milan.” Those heels, a symbol of the Motomami era’s high-fashion, “tigueraje” (street smarts), and materialism, are now being willfully “thrown away.” It is not a “loss”; it is a “liberation.”
She follows this with the most important symbolic act of the entire album: “My porcelain I will let it fall.” This is the final evolution of the “Porcelana” metaphor. In that song, she was “broken” but defiant. She was the “Queen of Chaos” whose brokenness was a weapon, a source of “frightening” power. She was defending her broken state.
Here, she lets it fall. This is an act of total, voluntary surrender. She is no longer afraid of being broken. She is no longer defending her “cracks.” She is letting all her defenses go. This is the ultimate act of “Ego sum nihil” (“I am nothing”). She is allowing herself to be completely and totally vulnerable. She can only do this because she is now “safe.” Her “capital” (her partner’s love) is the net that will catch her. She no longer needs the armor of the “Queen of Chaos.”
Finally, she “will give away my upright piano.” This is perhaps the most extreme sacrifice. The piano is a symbol of her art, her craft, the “hands” she “lost in Jerez.” She is even renouncing her identity as an artist, or at least the material trappings of it. This is the final renunciation, like a monk taking a vow of poverty. She is giving away everything.
A New Faith: The Religion of the Present Moment
After this total “emptying,” the song, and her new life, settles on one single, profound, and simple truth: “I’m fine if you’re here. If today you are here.”
This is a radical shift from the entire album’s philosophy. Her focus is no longer on the “past” (“Reliquia”) or the “future” (the “eighth” and “thousandth” heavens of “La Yugular”). Her entire world, her entire “golden” future, her entire “divinity,” has been concentrated into a single point: today.
She has achieved a state of pure, “golden” presence. Her peace is conditional on only one thing: his presence. Her entire chaotic, cosmic, “stalking,” “divine” energy has been grounded. She has landed. The “beautiful hurricane” is now just a calm breeze. The “avalanche” has settled.
This is the true “LUX.” The “light” is not the “divine ruin” or the “apocalyptic vow.” The “light” is the “golden” color of a shared glass of Sauvignon Blanc, in a quiet room, where the past is “at the bottom” of the glass and the future is secure.
“Sauvignon Blanc” is the album’s sacred, quiet resolution. Rosalía has completed her journey. She did not have to choose between the “mundo” (world) and “Dios” (God). She transcended them. She burned the “mundo” (“Rolls-Royce”) and in its place, found a new world (“Sauvignon Blanc”). She listened to “Dios” and found he was her partner (“Mio Cristo”), sitting right beside her.
She has found her “light” not by becoming a “Queen” on a “throne,” but by becoming “nothing”—by burning her possessions, “letting her porcelain fall,” and discovering that her entire universe of “capital” could be found in the “golden” promise of a simple, quiet, and present love.