Spirited Nationalism: US and UK Gin
In the past decade, gin has enjoyed a renaissance in both the US and the UK. Craft distilleries are booming in both countries. With more and more small-scale producers trying to differentiate themselves in a crowded market, their brand identity becomes vital — especially when consumers can’t always taste the product first and presumably be won over by the quality. How you distinguish your clear liquid from all the other clear liquids is paramount.
As with history and politics, marketing is all about myth-making. If a product (or a politician) can call on cultural heritage or national pride, a connection is quickly established that can elicit the consumer’s emotion — and their cash. This works particularly well in a young country like America, which has relied on its upstart, can-do narrative throughout its teenage centuries, but is no less important in the UK, where a number of craft brands are laying claim to the history and tradition of gin as well as its present renaissance.
Several contemporary gin brands assert expressly nationalistic and historical claims. The liquor industry’s marketing mirrors what we’ve seen elsewhere: in our highly connected yet fractured age, nationalist narratives matter all the more.
US Gins: Aviation and Bluecoat
Two well-established US gin brands offer overt examples of this spirit-soaked nationalism. Without ever explicitly mentioning “the American dream,” a phrase that currently seems out of vogue — and out of touch — in many parts of the country, they tap into its mythologies and promises.
Bluecoat Gin labels itself “the original, American dry gin,” while Aviation claims to be “the original American gin.” The distinction between the two lies in more than a comma and an adjective: their relative geography, on opposite sides of the US, shapes the culture they are part of and the history they choose to portray. As a product of the East Coast — those former British colonies — Bluecoat has defined itself in relation to its imperial forebear. “London Dry,” the name for the traditional style of gin, becomes “American dry,” defining the new in contrast to the old. It doesn’t seem too much of a stretch to conjecture that Aviation, growing out of the American Northwest, is more closely tied the American West’s pioneer culture. Rather than defining itself against tradition, Aviation stakes its claim as “an American original.”
Philadelphia Distilling, Bluecoat’s makers, capitalize on their distillery location in one of the ‘cradles of liberty’ to lay claim to the very foundations of American identity. Naturally, the gin is named after the American soldiers, Bluecoats, who fought in the American Revolutionary War against the British Redcoats.
Bluecoat’s website contains a short hagiography of these early revolutionaries and their “passion” for independence. “In celebration of these free-thinking revolutionaries, Philadelphia Distilling connects the rich history of 1776 to present day with Bluecoat American Dry Gin.” It’s not quite clear how they made that leap, as there’s no mention of Bluecoats getting any of their fervor from “Dutch courage.” But we won’t let that get in the way of our myth-making; isn’t it enough to know that you, too can #BeRevolutionary?
In contrast to Bluecoat’s focused rendition of early American patriotism, Aviation draws most of its inspiration from a later period of history: the highly glamorized Prohibition era of the early twentieth century. This is easily apparent in the styling of their bottle, typography, and branding (see left). The founders explain that they wanted “to recreate a uniquely American Gin.” But there was one minor issue: “American gins disappeared with Prohibition, so no one knew exactly what they tasted like.” Luckily — as ever in American narratives — democracy saved the day. The Aviation team “finally landed on a democratic blend with juniper in the background.”
A “democratic blend” — are traditional blends supposed to be autocratic, then? As the website frames it, Aviation is “a botanical democracy, where all the flavors have equal billing. London Dry is more a tyranny of juniper.” That clears that up — and with a nod to Revolutionary-era rhetoric, no less. Aviation is not picky about which parts of history they select and instill in their stories; anything works, so long as it’s American and inspiring. They evoke early American identity again with their “Declaration” (of Gindependence, perhaps?), which is worth quoting in full:
“We the people, in order to form a more perfect bar, hold these truths to be self-evident, that all gins are not created equal. That we have the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of a smoother, more balanced gin. We declare our freedom from the tyranny of juniper. We proclaim our allegiance to an American gin with a more democratic blend of botanicals. We mutually pledge our support and sacred honor to our collective ingenuity and a new American original.”
I suppose the Gettysburg Address is too much of a downer to adapt.
Both Aviation and Bluecoat make explicit claims on American history to sell their products as the inheritors — or representatives — of true “American” identity. Recalling early Revolutionary rhetoric about liberty, democracy, and the pursuit of happiness (through gin), they associate their products with a rousing sense of national pride. It’s the bourgeois ad copy version of “‘Mmurrica,” if you will. Bluecoat sticks to a one-era revolutionary narrative, while Aviation contains comingled references from multiple eras. This may be another legacy of its geography and culture, or perhaps an attempt to capture a different audience. I haven’t found any brands calling themselves “the West’s pioneering spirit” yet, but no doubt we’re not far off.
UK Gins
UK gins have a much longer history to draw on than US ones. Many craft brands make explicit claims on the heritage of gin-making, particularly in London where the classic London Dry gin style originated. While there are great small distillers popping up around the country, the language of geographic identity and heritage is especially strong in the capital. Hogarth’s famous satirical print of “Gin Lane” gets referenced by at least three of the brands named below. Each one refers to the gin craze of the 18th century, claiming to be the inheritors and revivers of that era — and blithely glossing over the deleterious effects of poorly regulated products on the poor.
The distinctions of the UK brands’ claims on London primacy, as with the American gins’ claims on originality, are nuanced. Well-known craft distiller Sipsmith labels themselves “the first copper pot distillery in London for nearly 200 years,” while the City of London Distillery (with the apt if generic acronym COLD) says they “brought Gin distilling back to the City in 2012 after an absence of nearly 200 years.” As ever, the boundaries of London are both a point of contention and absolutely crucial to identity formation. Sipsmith’s founding location was in Hammersmith, while COLD installed itself within the boundaries of the City proper and makes much of being “in the heart of London.” On the other side of town, East London Liquor Co. (ELLC) calls themselves “the first vodka, gin and whisky distillery in East London, London’s historic home of distilling, in over 100 years.” Referencing the historic lapse in gin distilling in London allows each company to remind audiences of the gin renaissance and lay claim to being the leaders of the resurgence.
The centrality of London is apparent in other aspects of the brands’ marketing as well. In nods to the City and its most famous architect, COLD has named two of its gins “Square Mile” and “Christopher Wren.” Its distinctive bottles are also shaped like St. Paul’s dome, one of the most recognizable elements of London’s skyline (see left). Sipsmith claims that its London Dry Gin “was born out of a desire to see gin production return to the city where it earned its name.”
In addition to geography, UK gin brands call on history to bolster their credentials. Sipsmith includes a potted “History of Gin” page that goes back to William of Orange introducing genever — the early, Dutch form of the spirit — to England and increasing its popularity. COLD simply starts with the 18th century gin craze. Gin Lane 1751 goes so far as to explain the Gin Act of 1751 — though perhaps this is more of a necessity given its name, which combines the title of the Hogarth print and the year of the Act that granted fewer licenses to sell gin, making it more expensive but also safer.
Furthering their historic angle, Gin Lane 1751 claims to embody a “classic Victorian style” gin “juxtaposed with accurate label recreation of the period” (see below). Their stated aim is to “recreate a range of London Gins with historical accuracy and relevance to the Victorian era.” The website sound effects certainly go some way towards achieving this re-enactment, with clanging bells, clattering carriages, neighing horses, chattering pedestrians, and street sellers crying their wares. All we’re missing is the stink of the gutters. Gin Lane goes much further with the historic identity than Sipsmith or COLD, which, as much as they claim the heritage, are essentially modern gins and operations. However, Sipsmith does note that it uses “traditional copper pot distillation with a recipe that wouldn’t look unfamiliar to an eighteenth-century Master Distiller.”
ELLC takes a slightly different tack, relying less on historic claims than on a traditional conception of English identity. The brand pulls no punches with “very English” branding in the descriptions of their gins. №1 contains “a quintessentially English note” of Darjeeling tea, while №2 is “distilled from 100% British wheat spirit,” with a recipe meant to evoke “a typical English herb garden.”
With UK craft gins, the brand discourse is not simply about old versus new; it’s about the old being transformed, re-crafted, and revitalized. But this combination of history and identity creates a nationalism that is by no means new. It is exactly the same discourse that forged an empire, now turned to selling products rather than consolidating power. Calling on the past is an easy way to create heritage branding (or a colonial outpost) without an immediate heritage — because these are all recently created gins, as opposed to brands that have been around for nearly two centuries like Boodles or Tanqueray. They are colonial offshoots of a much longer legacy, linking back to the motherland’s history in order to strengthen their nascent identities. The demographics and identity of the UK have shifted dramatically in recent decades, making it all the more interesting that this traditional heritage branding still asserts such a strong pull on younger spirits- and cocktail-drinking audiences.
It would seem intuitive that this kind of rhetoric would appeal to working-class, Leave or Trump voters — but its target audience is actually largely urban populations and strongly Remain or Clinton voters. Populations who see themselves as urbane, cosmopolitan, and not beholden to conservative values still succumb to something relatively traditional and tribal — provided it’s presented in a fun, fresh (“revitalized”) way. The polarization of contemporary politics can lead to people seeking out the comfort of something with a recognizable and relatable identity, even in the products they buy and consume.
We market products, people, and nations in much the same way, creating and telling stories that add up to an appealing identity. They may even be true. But the truth of them matters far less than the emotions they evoke — especially, as in the case of gin, a sense of national pride, connection, and belonging. Gin, as a spirit, embodies a far more complex history of class and colonialism than is represented in the potted histories of brands. It is the prerogative of marketing to pick and choose the most effective elements; it is the prerogative of the historian (and consumer) to understand the larger story.
