In Defense of the $50 Mango
Why pricing is an interface
Miyazaki Mangos are no ordinary mangos. The largest fruits with the highest sugar content and the most vibrant red skin are sold as Taiyo no Tamogo (Egg of the Sun). Taiyo no Tamogo mangos are on average, 15% sweeter than a regular mango and retail for $50 USD each. Last April, a pair of mangos were auctioned for over $3,000 USD.
Situated on the island of Kyushu in Southern Japan, the Miyazaki prefecture’s tropical climate and heavy rainfall make it an ideal place to grow fruit. Farmers on the island originally made their money selling specialized citrus, such as the Satsume mandarin orange or the hebesu, which is a local delicacy. When other regions within Japan also began growing oranges, the market was flooded and the price fell out. By the 1980s it was clear, the farmers had to pivot and find a new niche market. Enter the mango.
The perfect mango isn’t just a matter of the right conditions—it’s all about timing. Miyazaki Mangos are ready to harvest when a net catches the perfectly ripe fruit as it falls off the stem. A reflector underneath the fruit helps the mango develop a consistent, bright red color.
Miyazaki Mangos are ready to harvest when a net catches the perfectly ripe fruit as it falls off the stem.
Only mangos that fall off the tree are harvested. The harvested mangos are then sorted by sugar content and barcoded. Mangos with the highest sugar content weighing at least 350 grams with perfect, unblemished skin are sold exclusively at department stores as gifts.
A brief history of fruit gifting
Boutique fruit markets have existed in Japan since the early 19th century and date back to ancient customs. Traditionally, fruit are temple offerings. In Buddhism, for instance, giving oranges to the Buddha is a ritual of generosity. The fruits sit at the altar until they are ready to be eaten and then are consumed together by a family or close community. Sharing the fruit together is a way to extend the blessing and continue the cycle of generosity.
In the Shinto tradition, the altar is often a shrine to ancestors. The fruit placed at a Shinto altar connects ritual participants with the spirits of those ancestors. This gave root to the custom of giving gifts to elders or supervisors with higher social rank. Today, high-end fruits are given as presents for formal occasions and within business contexts. Companies will gift clients high-end fruit or office workers will gift their bosses fruit as a sign of respect.
In the US, giving fruit baskets is a part of business culture as well. Harry & David, a fruit retailer based out of Oregon, first began selling pears within the US to businessmen based in Seattle. In the 1920s, they began selling fruits by mail order catalog and started the Fruit of the Month club, still available today.
The gold-foil packaging of their signature product, the “Royal Riviera” pears was created when they first started marketing their pears as holiday gift boxes. The box of nine would always have one wrapped in gold foil.
The gold wrapped pear is the same as all the rest under the foil. It’s grown in exactly the same way as all the other pears in the box. But through the years Royal Riviera pears customers have assigned meaning to the one wrapped pear. Why?
Packaging is just one example of interface.
Interface is connective tissue
Broadly speaking, interface is the connective tissue between two systems. In software engineering, an interface specifies how two systems interact. For instance, in Java an interface describes how a particular object is created so that it works within the structure of a particular project, or program. Navigating and designing where these boundaries are is the work of design.
Today when we speak about interface design we’re usually focused on interface in the technology world and how humans interact with technology. But unwrapping a present or turning a door knob are interface use cases as well. Interface does the work of pointing to a context of use.
Interface does the work of pointing to a context of use.
For instance, a red fruit dropping out of a mango tree is nature’s way of signalling that it’s ready to eat. A wrapped pear becomes elevated as a holiday treat because of intent. The pear is special. It wasn’t just picked up from the supermarket. It was carefully wrapped, put in a box and sent just for you by someone who wanted to celebrate your birthday or congratulate you on a promotion.
Where and when we encounter objects also determines how we value them. An object, or artifact, is an “interface” between that object and its surrounding environment. When the object or its environment change, so does its meaning.
Pricing is an interface
Is $50 a lot to pay for a mango? Absolutely. If what you’re craving is a snack, you can get a mango for $2.99 or less. But, if you’re trying to impress your new boss, a $2.99 mango isn’t going to cut it. What you spend on a gift reflects directly back on you and demonstrates how you value a relationship. The price is the interface of that particular interaction.
Pricing is an interface. Pricing points to a context of meaning and determines how someone out in the world will value what you’re making (or growing). Pricing will determine where someone will find something. Online, people often shop by price. Given the impact price clearly has on customers’ actions, why is it something we often don’t even consider?
The $50 mango starts its life from the same seed as any other red mango. Then a farmer comes along and selects a few of these seeds to be treated specially. They get extra attention, sunlight, and are heated and pruned to perfection. Every action and the amount of care given to each fruit is what imbues the Miyazaki mango with its meaning. When you select that mango and give it to someone special—the interaction of two systems—the Miyazaki mango realizes its $50 value.
