Farewell, Confusion In The Juice Aisle

About two months after it debuted, Tropicana's new design for its cartons of orange juice is no more, after the revamp created such an uproar among consumers that the executives at Pepsi Co., Tropicana's parent, canceled it. Seriously.

Now, I faintly sympathize with all of the scorned juice-drinkers. The carton's old design, of a plump orange with a big straw stuck in it, suggested Tropicana is a company whose foremost concern is taste. "We're in the business of oranges," it says. "Our juice tastes like oranges and nothing else." The new one has a tall, shapely glass filled with juice, set against a minimalist background that is more negative space than anything else. There is a post-yuppie modernism to it that says, "Hey, early 30-something who buys juice at Whole Foods. You know, you can be just as fashionable by drinking Tropicana." The change exudes a certain amount of scorn toward Tropicana's longtime buyers.

However, is this really worth the effort of complaining "about the makeover in letters, e-mail messages and telephone calls and clamored for a return of the original look," as Stuart Elliott writes in the Times? (In fact, this switch received a ridiculous amount of press coverage; type "Tropicana cartons" into Google to find out.) Whatever happened to the idea of voting with your dollars? If any part of a consumer product offends you, spend your money elsewhere. Frankly, it's ridiculous that someone would find the packaging so offensive that he couldn't consume the product. Unless the packaging is racist, sexist or otherwise offensive (and, really, what are the odds of that?), if the product is tasty, enjoyable or somehow improves your day, who cares what it comes in?

I don't mean to single out David Wertheimer, but his blog entry complaining about the redesign is the first I found. To write, as Mr. Wertheimer does, that "the new packaging made it hard for me to buy it," (italics his) is embarrassing. The design doesn't define who you are, sir. That this created such a blogstorm and that Tropicana drinkers have such a "deep emotional bond" with the juice's look that its executives have to respond to it says something peculiar about the early-21st century. If the problem is with the juice's quality, I very much understand. But, remember, this displeasure emanates from the look.

Actually, I liked the new design -- it was simple and elegant, as juice cartons go -- even though the reflection of the juice in the glass created a small blotch of orange in a lower corner that I always mistook for a small leak in the carton. (See if you can notice it in the above photo.) I think I asked my girlfriend five consecutive weeks in the supermarket to touch the carton's bottom to see if it was sticky and would make our refrigerator messy.

Update: As a side note, it's mildly ironic that Tropicana's reversion was driven by the Internet's derision of the new design and yet, the company's Web site, still touts the "fresh" new look.