If Shakespeare was correct in stating that ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players’ then Shoreditch House provided the perfect backdrop for the launch of José Cuervo Platino tequila last week. With the famous rooftop swimming pool glowing luminously in the night air, the scene was set for London’s ‘players’ to sample Cuervo’s new premium silver tequila.

But the Bard also went on to extend his theatrical analogy, describing man’s evolution through ‘seven ages’ or ‘acts’ within his life - helpless infant, hesitant schoolboy, lovestruck adolescent, aggressive soldier, corpulent middle-ager, retired lech, then back to a helpless infancy, courtesy of decrepitude. Finding myself holding a shot glass full of tequila, it was hard to ignore the relevance of this analogy, no matter how stylish the surroundings.

You see, like many people, my first encounter with tequila was in the form of a shot - well, more of a swig from a plastic beaker, at a friend’s eighteenth birthday party. When the acrid rocket fuel hit the back of my throat with an eye-watering intensity, I decided that drinking tequila was an experience I was unlikely to repeat. Fortunately I am a forgiving (and forgetful) sort of person, and so a few years later at college, the occasional tequila slammer helped with the navigation of various juvenile bonding rituals. Adding a dash of fizzy lemonade turned the fiery spirit into a mere alcopop, but at least it made everyone feel festive, if a little flatulent.

In my twenties, when romance was beginning to loom, the flames of eager expectation were fanned on several occasions by hot dates in vibrant cocktail bars. That was when I discovered that a Tequila Sunrise was one of the few cocktails I could order without sounding like I was propositioning the barman. By the time I was immersed in the world of serious work, tequila was making an appearance only occasionally, in the form of jugs of frozen margaritas shared with colleagues during team-building events. It was more Warren Buffett than Jimmy Buffett, but by then, the idea of ‘wastin’ away again in Margaritaville’ was not an option, given the stark reality of a mortgage.

Finally, my consumption of tequila was reduced to an insignificant splash within a Nigella Lawson recipe for margarita ice cream. It was still capable of enlivening a dinner party, but the same dusty old bottle spent three years lurking at the back of the drinks cupboard, like a maiden aunt at a wedding. So, back to Shoreditch House, where I was faced once again with the prospect of drinking neat tequila, while the ghost of my eighteen year old self hovered in the background, clutching an empty plastic cup and gasping for breath. It felt as if the circle was complete, and in the manner of Shakepeare’s seven ages of man, I was back once more to callow youth. How depressing.

But this time, it was different.

For a start, this tequila smells wonderfully aromatic and tastes light, almost citrussy, but with a warm, lingering vanilla finish. Silver tequilas are not aged in barrels, but this one demands to be sipped like a cognac rather than downed like a party shot.

It has a long tradition too. The family of José Cuervo began producing tequila commercially on their estate in 1795, and the distillery, which is the oldest in Latin America, is still managed by the founder’s descendants. The impressive pedigree continues with the raw ingredients. Platino tequila is made using 100% blue agave, a plant which looks like an aloe vera, and needs very little watering. (Considering this, it would make a perfect houseplant for any single male friends.) After growing on the Cuervo estate for between ten and twelve years, compared to the usual eight, the plants are harvested and the outer leaves cut away, leaving the heart or ‘pina’.

These are slow-baked in clay ovens for several days to retain the full agave flavour, then cooled and crushed. Only the juice from the first pressing is used in what the Cuervo family claim is a secret recipe. It is these top quality ingredients, combined with the trademarked distillation process called ‘Esencia de Agave’ that give this tequila its edge. Certainly the Beverage Testing Institute thought so, when it awarded Platino the highest rating ever for a silver tequila.

But is there a gap in the market (particularly outside the US) for a tequila you can sip and savour? Will a spirit which is more frequently associated with rowdy college bars appeal to a consumer who would be prepared to pay the £50 price tag?

If my own experience of drinking tequila is anything to go by, then José Cuervo may face an uphill struggle in dispelling some unattractive preconceptions. They have, however, made an excellent start with the packaging. Each hand crafted bottle is individually numbered and sealed with blue wax, giving it a glacial, exclusive air.

For those who are still not tempted by the prospect of drinking tequila neat, or on the rocks, it should be noted that Platino makes a wonderfully smooth cocktail. I tried some superb margaritas, and martinis, and a decadent concoction called ‘Familiarise Yourself’ which included champagne, and essences of nutmeg, ginger and orange bitters. It sounds a bit over the top, but it was delicious - like Christmas in a glass, and perfect for parties. Just don’t let the eighteen year olds get their hands on it. They haven’t suffered enough yet.