Growing up, Gabe remembers the good old Juan Valdez commercials. A charismatic representation of the Colombian coffee grower would be hanging out with his trust burro (mule) in the coffee aisle of the grocery store, complete with a big smile and a warm cup.
If you were alive in the 1990s, you might also remember Folger’s classic, “best part of waking up.” Check out the coffee pour about 20 seconds in, and it will call to mind the trustworthy and yet not particularly exciting distinctive diner coffee made by the giant vat. Some may even call it dishwater, though we tend to be more forgiving.
Marketing in the good old days.
Now, the branding of coffee has exploded. Gabe has gotten into a habit of collecting coffee bags from his travels and keeping them on display in his office.
On a recent trip to Montreal (see below), he entered a local cafe and immediately felt like a kid in a candy store. The array of colors, brands, pictures, and styles was a bit dizzying, and he walked away with some poor choices in terms of flavor as the designs carried him away.
What’s in a label and a name?
First and foremost, there is the story. While coffee marketing has really taken off in the last ten to fifteen years, it is still rooted in the same premise of Juan Valdez and Folger’s from back in the day. When we walk into a Stone Creek and see a bag of their Boneshaker light roast or stare in wonder at their posters along the wall, we are enveloped by their passion for coffee, their “nerdiness,” and their artistic flair. It tells us about what we can expect from the experience, even if each individual product may vary. Or when we go visit La Finca down in St. Francis and hold one of their earthen mugs filled with a Horchata latte made from coffee from their family farm, there is a coziness that is hard to replicate.
When we get down to individual coffees, the branding can tell us about the story of the coffee, the people who made it possible, and a life far removed from our own here in Milwaukee. Sometimes these stories emerge from personal values and histories, like Isla Bella Coffee Roasters’ mission to support female growers on Puerto Rico, and sometimes they provide us a glimpse of another life, like Valentine’s description of its Bali Kintamani coffee as grown on the “slopes of the active Mount Batur volcano.” We are not only transported, but we can turn a cup of coffee from our morning joy to a reflection on the complexity, interconnectedness, and global interdependence of modern life.
But of course, underneath it all is the quality and the business. Colectivo is a prime example. Under the name Alterra, the company begin to sprout and plant roots. In 2010, they sold the name to the Mars Company (under a five year contract), but kept the business going. Their move to “Colectivo”--which by the way, is a common name for a small public bus across various places in Latin America--has literally and figuratively paid dividends. The core of the business, of course, remained the same, and they have used the new style to run with South American inspired designs to match many of their coffees, like the colorful jaguar on a Mexico light roast. Their quirky and distinctive marker has no doubt helped them spread from Chicago to Madison, while developing a loyal following and expanding their products.
So what’s in a label and a name?
Both everything--the mark, the vibe, the story--and nothing--its the coffee, the people, and the business underneath that really makes it.
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