Mt. Evervess

An un-medicated high.

Needing to quench my thirst, I bought this Indian carbonated water for the illustration and tagline combo as well. I was already in the Himalayas, heading to Bhutan or on my way back. So, there!

Next logo change, I’d move “Lehar” to the bottom or back and let the mountains and “Evervess” take the spotlight. The maker’s prominent display (on its bottles and snack packages) is akin to “The Coca-Cola Company” splashed center stage on every beverage it sells, regardless of whether Coke, Sprite or Dasani is inside.

“Evervess” is powerful. It’s evocative, fun to say and onomatopoeic. Starting off strong with the stressed initial “E,“ the name then softens out…much like any gaseous beverage action. What’s more, it’s suggestively descriptive: the drink is super-fizzy, as another fan attests. — ¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡! — I love the visual and verbal references to both “effervescent” and Mt. Everest. Bubble on!

Backstory: Lehar is a brand of soft drinks and salties owned by PepsiCo. From 1988, when the company entered the subcontinent’s market, until the ban on using foreign brand names was lifted in 1991, PepsiCo was forced to use an Indian name, even on its flagship drink. Pepsi Era? Not allowed. Lehar Pepsi (lehar = wave)? Approved. PepsiCo marketed its products under this former Indian joint venture label until it bought out its partners in 1994.

Sourced: Thailand/Bhutan.

Overly stressed

Kahlú-a #1: “MUY, not “MOO-ey.”

Don’t know why this Mexican coffee-flavored liqueur adds a stress mark on “muy” in its “drive responsibly” blurb in the left margin. Unlike tu/tú, mi/mí or aun/aún (among others), there is not another word in Spanish with which to confuse it, and thus no need for an accent to differentiate the two. In fact, the stressed “u” here leads to a two-syllable word that rhymes with…uh-oh…“gooey.”

Also, while the brand name is correctly accented below the “DELICIOSO” ribbon (I know, hard to see here), the words “fábrica” and “café” are not. When a Spanish word is capitalized, Spanish speakers often do not use written accents where they would normally be required. However, since KAHLÚA is all caps, I would expect to see FÁBRICA and CAFÉ. Bad Spanish or Spanglish, at least it’s not affecting deliciousness.

Hemp-smack’n good

Cannabis on ice.

At first, I was not sure of the name of this drink. Was the “Swiss maple leaf” a stand-in for a letter? Coice? Caice? O was it merely separating two words? The fact that I bought this in Canada added to the initial confusion. “C” for Canadian? The name was simpler than I thought – C-Ice — but still a little clunky: “C” + “ice” looks shorter than it really sounds. And, I don’t see any value in the reversed second “c.”

Interesting, the verbal and visual plugs for Switzerland. The cube did conjure up ice-capped mountains. (Just looking at the block of ice cooled me down.) However, there is no real logo here, despite the potential for a great one. In a design update, I suggest combining the Swiss flag with the cannabis leaf (given they are both square-ish) for a cannabis leaf-shaped flag…a much more effective message encapsulated within a compact, mobile-friendly footprint with the power to be smokin’ hot, unlike the name.

The taste? Approximating cold yerba mate…refreshingly bitter. Lastly, I couldn’t resist the orange packaging…none other than a Lamican® from Finland. Sturdy, with good print quality and nice in the hand.

Sl-ice water

Picklers vs. Slicers

Love, love, love cucumbers, especially when the sweeteners and preservatives stay away. This water is very deserving of its name: just the right amount of cucumber essence and oh so refreshing! The fruit’s lore is quirky but “cuke.” Stumped on the trivia question? A hint is right there!  Did you know that cucumbers were first cultivated in Bengal, India over 3000 years ago?

The “Drink water, not sugar”  tagline reinforces the product’s natural slant. A straight and true swipe at the colored-water, “good for you” posers. The name, tagline, logo, green “slice” highlighting the flavor and clear packaging all play nicely together.

Sip to my ‘roo, my darlin’

Penguin envy.

Just looking at this happy bird cools me down. Nothing like incorporating these cute little creatures into your design to coax kids to drink what could be directly had from the tap, filtered or not. The name incorporated into the little guy’s eyes is clever. (Does that make him four-eyes?) The portability helps, but it’s not refillable.

Which brings to mind public water fountains. They must be lonely without all that gossip. And so quaint. Yet they are the best way to quench your thirst or wake yourself up with a splash on the face…when you can find one.

The whole bottled water culture is so over. Most is brought to you from the same public source via the good ole faucet. Yet, the continuing brand proliferation in this category never ceases to amaze me. In fact, I was involved in the industry in the early- to mid-1990’s, when I sought out U.S. distributorship for a prestigious Catalan producer of bottled carbonated mineral water. They were ahead of the times. It’s a shame; they’d have made inroads had management been more interested in carving out a niche space with spa clients (which is where their product best fit) or sat out things until the domestic market here became receptive to their offering.

Emergency landing deplaning practice.

Acerola anyone?

Back (roads) stage pass.

It doesn’t take much to get me out the door and exploring. Especially the storied Route 66, a lot of which I have covered…and more than once. I love the name, logo, tagline and shape of the can.

While not a nutritional label reader, I was curious (and all signs pointed to the side of the can). That little detour is where I learned of a new fruit: acerola. Didn’t sound like anything I wanted to pop in my mouth, let alone sip.

Lo and behold, it’s none other than the West Indian, Barbados or Puerto Rican cherry and related to the hawthorn, which the Chinese eat along with their tea. To my etymological surprise, the fruit name is rooted in Arabic al-zu’rur (al- = the + zu’rur = medlar) by way of Spanish. Yet the medlar itself is actually related to (but much smaller than) apples, pears and quinces and has an amazing story of its own. Bletted are its ways.