The Polar Manifesto
I am nothing if I am not brand loyal. I use Tres Emme shampoo and conditioner, ACT mouthwash, and Mitchum deodorant as I have the entirety of my adult life. Once I find a brand that is high quality, priced fairly, and readily accessible I like to stick with it. Chief among those brands is my beloved Polar Seltzer, the finest carbonated water man has ever produced. To describe me as a loyal Polar customer is like saying Sideshow Bob isn’t a fan of Bart Simpson; yeah, its technically accurate but it really doesn’t really do justice to the passion of their relationship. My love-affiar with Polar started the first time I saw their iconic bear on top of their factory the first time I visited The College of the Holy Cross. Over my four years at the school I got to know Polar more intimately, trying seasonal flavors as they were released and getting cursed at by their factory employees at Herbies (believe it or not blue collar workers didn’t love college kids head to toe in vineyard vines making themselves home at the factory’s closest watering hole).
In my estimation Polar’s Ruby Red Grapefruit seltzer is the closest man has come to bringing the platonic ideal of “seltzer water” to life. It is as close to divine perfection as anything man has been able to create, and having a cold can that was hard earned on a hot summer day is a legitimate religious experience. The flavor is delicious but subtle, the carbonation popping like rice crispies. There is truly nothing like it.
That is why the rise of La Croix as America’s dominant seltzer brand has given me much grief and many sleepless nights. While I will go into much greater detail below if Polar is Songs About Jane, La Croix is everything else Maroon 5 has done since; lifeless and lacking the love, care, and attention to detail that made Songs About Jane so great. Too often when offered a La Croix people will push me to try the drink again. “Come ooooooon, can it really be that bad?” They’ll hoot, “look it comes in all these fun flavors!” they’ll holler. To combat these well meaning but ignorant friends of mine I keep the following Manifesto saved on my phone at all times, ready to be texted out at a moment’s notice. I suggest you do the same.
My problem with La Croix is multi faceted but fundamentally all stems from my core belief that we should always stand up in defense of the working class in the face of the aristocracy. While you’d think from the name that the La Croix corporation would have roots in France they’re incorporated in Wisconsin. Deriving their name from St. Croix River the company at one point were proud of their midwestern roots. However those days are long gone as La Croix has repurposed the moniker to try and swindle consumers into thinking the beverage is French. The names of their flavors are hammed up to help further the Eurpoean aesthetic. Its not plain or original, its “Pure”. Its not Grapefruit flavored its “Melón pomelo”. These were all named so obnoxiously to try and con consumers into thinking they were drinking something fancy. However in reality it leaves the drinker disappointed as they slowly realize as they down the can that they were in fact drinking a 6th rate bottle of barely fizzling latrine water w 1/10th of a kool aid pack thrown in for “flavoring” which is by all measurable standards an affront to seltzer. This has been coupled with an all out marketing effort on behalf of the La Croix team. Desperate for good PR there were twitter campaigns and can redesigns to look as hip and modern as possible. However whatever was spent on the marketing must have borrowed from the flavor r&d budget, because the product quality has clearly suffered. To be blunt, the seltzer does not taste good by any quantifiable measure. The flavors just don’t taste good, or real, or natural. At best a given flavor will taste like a candied recreation of what lemon might taste like in a labratory, rather than tasting like someone just squeezed a lemon in there. I was genuinely shocked when tasting a black cherry La Croix that was so tart that it was genuinely undrinkable.
Furthermore their seltzer has no pop whatsoever, just tossing carbonation into the water just to check a box qualifying it as a “seltzer”. Somehow every La Croix’s first sip has the mouthfeel of a normal seltzer that has been sitting opened on a park bench for an entire pick up basketball game. A can of flavorless La Croix (or “Pure” as they like to call it) has more in common with a glass of tap water than it does a can of Polar seltzer.
Taste aside, more than anything else Polar Seltzer is a company who is proud of itsroots. It hasbeen family made and owned since 1882 in Worcester, MA. It employees good, hardworking Worcesterites and advertises as a product who has them in mind before all else. It has a crisp full-bodied mouthfeel and tasty all-natural flavors who never overpower the drink itself. It was made for the person who gets home from work after a long day at the yard and needs a damn good seltzer to help kick back and relax, and it doesn’t pretend to be for anyone else because it would never want to be for anyone else. Polar Seltzer is a drink made for the working class by the working class that puts taste above all else. La Croix is a drink who lies to itself, trying to represent a group of people whose interests the company could not be further disaligned with, and it tastes as vile as the hearts of the people who make it.
