The Seltzer Wars
a conflict of Capitalism
So, a few months ago, I took this summer side-gig as a liquor promoter. It’s really a perfect job. On Friday and Saturday afternoons, I go to one of the nearby liquor stores, stand behind a dinky little table and try to convince people to taste whatever booze I’ve been assigned that day. I don’t even have to bring the booze — I just go into the store and they’ve got it there. And I get to take the booze home. If you’ve ever been into a liquor store, you’ve probably seen somebody doing this.
Anyway, I get assigned all kinds of booze to peddle. I’ve done gin and rum, vodka, wine, canned cocktails and a lot — I mean a lot — of hard seltzers. And again, it’s a divine gig. I bring along a book and, when it’s slow, I read.1 So last week, I was pushing this seltzer called Day Chaser.
I finished my book and I was standing there in that contented cerebral place you get to when you’ve just read the end a really good book. And I was surrounded by cases upon cases of various hard seltzers. Some of them I’d pushed before and some I hadn’t. And it sort of struck me how funny and transitive this current moment is — the moment of The Seltzer Wars.
Now, this isn’t exactly a new thing. It started around 2018 when there were ten seltzer brands. By the summer of 2020, there were 65 seltzer brands, according to Axios. I can’t find any reliable recent data but it from the marketing analyses I read, it seems like about 180 different seltzers are now on the market.
And it makes sense that everybody’s trying to get in on the action. The hard seltzer market was valued at around $9 billion in 2021. So apparently a lot of people are drinking them. And that massive (and expanding) market is what’s fueling The Seltzer Wars. It’s the dead archduke in this conflict.
I don’t drink a lot of hard seltzers but none of them are noticeably better in my experience. They’re the same stuff in different cans. The Day Chaser can is corny but they’ve got a spicy mango flavor that’s nice.2 The “coolest” can I’ve peddled so far is this California seltzer called Onda. Most of my friends drink High Noon and, again — that’s the same as all the others. The High Noon can says the booze inside is “gluten free” and only “100 calories” with “no added sugar.” But so does the Day Chaser can and the Onda can. And so does the Volley can and the White Claw can and the Bud Light Seltzer can3 and the Nutrl can and the Truly can and you get the idea.
And if this is sounding a little boring, that’s because it is. These are all the same thing in different cans. And they’re all about the same price: twenty dollars for an eight-pack. One differentiating factor is the base — White Claw and High Noons are vodka. Onda and Day Chaser are tequila. Tanqueray makes a gin seltzer. But it strikes me that when a modern market becomes saturated, this is where it goes. Everything is the same, they just look different. The taste of the booze — which is obstensibly the most important factor when you’re deciding what you drink — has become superfluous. You’re not buying the booze, you’re buying the can.
Are you “cooler” if you drink High Noon than if you drink Day Chaser? No, obviously not. But High Noon has branded itself as the “cool” seltzer for bros. They’ve got a deal with Barstool Sports. That’s why my friends drink it — because my friends fit the dictionary definition of “bros.” It was marketed to them on Instagram or wherever and now every time we go to the beach, there’s always a few cases of High Noon. Other brands, like White Claw, have different associated demographics. Like, well, underagers.
So where does this end? Will the bubble pop? It has to at some point, right? There has to be another new thing. The guy who started this whole trend is a now-billionaire named Anthony von Mandl. Before he invented White Claw, he invented Mike’s Hard Lemonade, which similarly altered the alcohol market.
And the whole idea of market saturation making product quality superfluous is not a new notion. So I’m sorry if you were hoping for something revelatory. I have no brilliant insight. I’d just like to step back for a second and point out the stupidity of The Seltzer Wars. And I wonder what comes next. Because undoubtedly, this whole story will repeat itself with a different product.
It strikes me now that I’ve gotten in trouble for reading at just about every single non-professional job I’ve ever worked. When I bussed tables in high school, they fussed at me for reading Kerouac in the walk-in fridge. When I caddied at a golf course, they fussed at me for hiding out on the back nine and reading Tolkien. When I was a bouncer at a beach bar, they fussed at me for reading (I don’t remember what I was reading then). But nobody has yet fussed at me for reading while pushing liquor. But also, I’m pretty good at pushing liquor.
Hilariously, the Day Chaser logo looks like a logo for an erectile disfunction ad. Also, Day Chaser apparently has a Nascar team. So, between these two data points, you get a sense of what demographic they’re going for.
So some brands are going for this built-in loyalty pitch. Bud Light has name recognition. So does the Tropo Chico hard seltzer. And, I wish I was kidding but this is how stupid The Seltzer Wars are, there’s also a Sunny D hard seltzer.