For years, I’ve been devoted to the gimlet—a 1920s cocktail classic. I take mine with Ketel One, served up, and only fresh lime will do—none of that cringe-worthy Rose’s, which contains high-fructose corn syrup and induces a surefire snarling of the lips in sour revolt. However, this summer, I haven’t bothered much with designating the purer source of my citric acid. A few months back, in genteel Charleston, ducking from one of those powerful coastal monsoons that thunder through Lowcountry afternoons, I hunkered down at Rare Bit on King Street with a dear friend. All rain-drenched and messy, I simply asked for the house libation without so much as a glance at the menu. A dignified copper mug soon appeared before me, full to the brim with a perfect nectar. So perfect that I had myself another and another. And all summer long, I’ve been opting for the same refreshing blend of ginger beer, lime, and vodka: The Moscow Mule–a pre-Sputnik moniker coined in the U.S. which merely makes use of some catchy alliteration in referring to Russia’s lore in the vodka trade.

A pale hue, the concoction has social range–works magic for a prime midday beach buzz or suffices for sophisticated pre-dinner sippage. So when I got the hunch to put on a casual but intimate get-together the other night, I had all the makings for Mules on the ready. But something seemed amiss. I pondered, then pondered more while savoring every drop within my adored Baccarat Harmonie highball. And then, as the condensation droppled down, it occurred to me that there was a particular heft, a particular sensation, even a particular insulation to the copper mug that Moscow Mules were intended to be quaffed from. I had to get some.

Now, I happened upon these gorgeous copper tumblers at the ever-luxurious German purveyor of envy-inducing wares, Andreas Murdukis.

But at over $1,000 a pop (yes, with a comma and three zeros), these Andreas Murdukis stunners are a mighty stretch from my realm. Nope, my dears, they’re copper—not gold, not even sterling. But deadgummit, they’re pretty. Functionally of course, they’re inferior to my more economical choice, which bears a gleamy brass handle to keep my palms all warm and dry.

Old Dutch manufactures these handsome mugs in both hammered and polished copper, either in 16-ounce or 24-ounce sizes.