No other brand encapsulates summer and sunshine for me like Orangina. That transportive luminous orange that instantly conjures up memories of Tenerife poolsides and Butlins kid’s clubs. The condensation slowly rolling down the bottle with curves in all the right places, its dappled sides salaciously divulging the tasty real fruit pulp lolling around inside. Dreamy.
Orangina clearly worked out a long time ago that the harder you make your product to get into the more children will covet it. Not only do you need to make sure the glass bottle doesn’t slip through your chlorine riddled fingers, you then need to find a suitable adult with a bottle opener to free the citrus nectar from its glassy bastille. And what is it about a glass bottle that makes the business of refreshment just so damn superior to that of the lowly can? Is it the gentle fragility that charms us so? The fleeting and temporary nature that makes us stop and savour? Or more sinister, is it the huge sense of power you wield when holding it in your mighty hand? Just one wrist flick and it would be instant destruction. Whatever the psychology, I’m sold.