Please Keep Your Pink Out of My Drink
If you’re of a particular age, you may remember when nobody thought anything of the frilly, glittery pinkness assigned to young girls. We got our My Little Ponies, our Lemon Meringue and Strawberry Shortcake dolls, our sparkly, puffy, scratch-n-sniff stickers and, well, that was that. Boys got snips and snails and puppy dogs’ tails.
Then we grew up, and happily much of the world caught on that we don’t have to assign things like that based on gender. Girls might like to make mud pies and boys might like to cook, and what does anybody care?
Much of the world, I say.
A Rant Against Pink Drinks
Apparently there are some folks who think girls still want to play with purple, raspberry-scented, bedazzled little ponies when they grow up — and that’s what they’re giving us in alcohol form.
Every Father’s Day my inbox is bombarded with press releases for bourbons for dads; meanwhile the shelves at liquor shops are groaning under the weight of ever more frou-frou creations targeted at women. Even more frustrating for a bourbon-lover like me? While bourbon distilleries can’t keep up with demand for good bourbon (in large part from the ladyfolk drinking it, I might add), they’re siphoning off their distillate for use in “flavored whiskeys.”
Let me be clear: I’m not talking about any of us choosing to enjoy a pink drink. My favorite cocktail lately, in fact, is rather pink thanks to a generous helping of Trader Joe’s canned rosé. Want to slip on your Manolo Blahniks and reclaim the cosmo? Awesome! I’m also not dissing anyone going pink for October in honor of breast cancer awareness month.
What I’m talking about is the age-old practice of assuming we can’t enjoy a nice brown liquor that hasn’t been Barbiefied. For the love of all that is hallowed, will the makers of this stuff please stop and listen?
We do not need your glittery bottles.
We do not need your apple, peach, chocolate, truffle(?), chocolate, green tea, or coconut (I can not make this up) whiskeys.
What would we like instead? I’m queuing up for decent, aged bourbons with nothing added — just the way the pioneers (and Congress) intended. Save the ooh la la lollipop flavors for the little girls and boys.