Calimocho: On the Politics of Wine and Cola (Redux)

Roland Barthes & Andy Warhol

George Costanza & Jeremy Usbourne 

 

  

I. 

 

Recently, I was at an event with an American friend who doesn't drink; she prefers to sip mineral water rather than Champagne - although, on a hot summer's day, it's been known for her to ask for a Diet Coke with ice and lemon.  

 

Listening to her explain her secular preference to another guest reminded me of a post written back in 2014 on the politics of wine and cola [1], in which I considered the idea that opting for a soft drink over a glass of wine is in some sense a rejection of the snobbery and social complexity inherent in European culture.   

 

In the post, whilst I mentioned Warhol and George Costanza, I don't recall bringing Roland Barthes into the conversation and that is something I'd now like to do in an alternative version of the text; one that considers the concept of wine as a totem-drink and magical substance that transforms any occasion (even if it fails to tick the right boxes for those who value equity, inclusion, and sobriety above all things).  

II.  

  

Probably the most powerful argument for choosing a cool can of Coke over a fine glass of wine remains the one made by Andy Warhol. It's a cultural-political argument which posits the former as the embodiment of American democracy [2] and which stands in stark contrast to Roland Barthes's idea of wine as a quintessential sign of Frenchness - "just like its three hundred and sixty types of cheese" [3].  

 

The Germans have their beer; the Russians their vodka; and the English their cups of tea. But the French - of all classes - have their wine. Manual workers and intellectuals alike, enjoy a glass of wine with their lunch, says Barthes, thereby challenging the belief that it's something enjoyed only by a privileged elite.  

 

However, Barthes admits that wine is a foundational liquid that it grants the drinker a certain social belonging. Thus, to refuse a glass of wine and choose Perrier or Pepsi instead - certainly in a French (or European) context - is not just to exercise a preference, it is to commit an immoral (and incomprehensible) faux pas.   

 

This explains why George Costanza’s robust defence of Pepsi seems so (amusingly) outrageous [3]. When George exclaims 'No way is wine better than Pepsi', he is rejecting the idea that drinking wine is a moral imperative. George isn't just choosing a soft beverage, he's refusing to participate in the Old World ceremony where wine serves as a signifier of adulthood and civilisation. 

 

Warhol's argument for Coca-Cola communism - where the President and the bum drink the exact same product - strips away the mystical qualities that the French, according to Barthes, attribute to wine. While wine varies by terroir and price (creating the very hierarchies that George detests), Coke is a universal constant, requiring no expertise to consume.

 

This brings us rather nicely to the character of Jeremy Usbourne in the British sitcom Peep Show, whose discomfort at ordering a bottle of Barolo isn't just about the price - though that's a very real factor - it's due also to his knowledge of his own inability to perform the role of the wine drinker. Jeremy lacks the habits of the heart - i.e., that unearned cultural capital - that Barthes says allow a person to master wine's complexity. 

 

For Jeremy, wine belongs to a world he hasn't been initiated into. It's not simply that he doesn't know which wine to ask for, he doesn't know how to drink it and ordering a bottle doesn't transform the meal with Big Suze, it simply exposes him as someone who doesn't belong to her class [5]. 

 

Thus his preference for hot chocolate or Coke isn't merely juvenile - it's an unconscious alignment with Warhol's democratic Americanism over the performative demands of European wine culture. Ultimately, Jeremy feels he can drink hot chocolate or Coke without feeling judged, or looking like a dick in the eyes of those who, like Suze, have been initiated into the way of the grape.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See 'Calimocho: On the Politics of Wine and Cola' (19 Sept 2014): click here. 

 

[2] See Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B & Back Again) (Harcourt, 1975), pp. 100-101. The section in which Warhol praises the greatness of American society in terms of Coca-Cola (and ballpark hot dogs) can be read here. 

      What Warhol writes here is undeniably true and one senses something of this same patriotism and ironic egalitarianism of the market place born of a New World dislike for Old World snobbery in George Costanza's privileging of Pepsi over wine (see note 4 below).  

 

[3] Roland Barthes, 'Wine and Milk', in Mythologies, trans. Annette Lavers (Paladin Books, 1973), p. 65.

      Obviously, the Greeks, Italians, and Spanish feel exactly the same about wine; that it's not just as an alcoholic drink, but as an essential part of their daily life, culture, and cuisine (they also love their own cheeses just as much as the French, even if they don't produce as many types or consume as much).  

 

[4] See the fifth season episode of Seinfeld titled 'The Dinner Party' (1994), dir. Tom Cherones and written by Larry David. Click here to watch the relevant scene on YouTube. 

 

[5] Click here to watch the scene with Jeremy and Big Suze at the restaurant in the fifth season episode of Peep Show titled 'Burgling' (2008), dir. Becky Martin, written by Jesse Armstrong, Sam Bain, and David Mitchell.   

 

 

Calimocho: On the Politics of Wine and Cola

 Andy Warhol: Coca-Cola (3), 1962

Probably the most powerful argument for choosing a cool can of Coke over a fine glass of wine remains that made by Andy Warhol and it's primarily a cultural-political argument tied to American consumerism, rather than one concerning taste (in either sense of the word) or sobriety:

"What's great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca-Cola, and you can know that the President drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke, too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the President knows it, the bum knows it, and you know it."   

- The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, (Harcourt, 1975)

This is undeniably true and one senses something of this same patriotism and ironic egalitarianism of the market place - one might almost call it Coca-Cola communism - born of a New World dislike for Old World snobbery, in George Costanza's equally robust defence of Pepsi.

Reminded by Elaine that it's customary for guests to bring a bottle of wine to a dinner party, George informs her that he doesn't even drink wine - he drinks Pepsi. When Elaine scornfully tells him that he can't bring Pepsi to a gathering of grown-ups, George snorts: "You telling me that wine is better than Pepsi? Huh, no way wine is better than Pepsi."

Even Jerry's attempt to intervene by telling his outraged friend that the fabric of society is very complex and that one has to conform to all manner of customs and conventions, fails to placate George on this point. Later, in the car driving to the party, George asks: "What are we Europeans with the Beaujolais and the Chardonnay ...?" 

Still, none of this serves to explain Jeremy's discomfort at ordering a bottle of Barolo when on a date in an episode of Peep Show. He's obviously put off by the price (£45), but does he really think that wine is less delicious than hot chocolate or Coke? If so, this simply makes him juvenile rather than American does it not?    

Notes:

See Seinfeld, 'The Dinner Party', episode 13, season 5 (1994) and Peep Show, 'Burgling', episode 1, series 5 (2008). 

No One is Innocent

Innocent Drinks was founded in 1999 by Richard Reed, Adam Balon and Jon Wright: three Cambridge graduates working in the well-paid world of corporate consultation and advertising who knew precisely how to market idealism in the form of fruit smoothies. As did design director, David Streek, who developed the brand identity based on fair trade, environmental friendliness, and making sure people get their five-a-day. Or bringing nature, community, and business closer together for mutual benefit.

Via the Innocent Foundation, a UK registered charity set up in 2004, the company donates a percentage of its profits to good causes, including development projects in the Third World. Innocent also run a campaign in partnership with Age Concern each autumn known as the Big Knit, in which people are encouraged to make tiny little woolen hats to go on top of 250ml bottles. Every sale of such results in a 25p donation to charities attempting to save the thousands of old folk who risk freezing to death during the winter because they can't afford to heat their homes.

So far, so saintly. But, of course, no one is innocent; not even Messrs. Reed, Balon and Wright ...

And so it came to pass that in April 2009, they announced that they had agreed to sell an 18% share of their company to Coca-Cola for a sum in the region of £30 million. Despite the horrified reaction of many customers to this news and the threat of a boycott, one year later Coca-Cola upped its stake in Innocent to 58% for a further £65 million. Coke applied the coup de grace in February of this year; increasing its holding to over 90% and taking full operational control whilst the three founders pocketed another £100 million.

Richard Reed described the deal as beautiful and pointed out that if it were not for capitalism we would all be living in mud-huts, or shivering to death from the cold like the elderly. It's easy to be cynical and sneering, but at some point customers and companies alike need to grow up and get real. 

It is, of course, an old story that follows a predictable path and no one should really be surprised by this sell-out. Nor shocked to hear that Innocent have now signed a deal with McDonald's. Even so, for the first time a fruit smoothie is starting to leave a nasty taste and one remembers again Malcolm McLaren's sage advice: never trust a hippie - particularly a hippie with a calculator.