Category: marketing

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marketing

Brand codes and beer packaging

Carter's Lager cans from Aldi, Carling and Carling Premier Lager cans, and Coors Light in various forms of packaging.

How is it possible to see an own-brand beer and know which mainstream product it is intended to replace in your basket? That’s the power of ‘brand codes’.

Brand codes are the colours, shapes, words and iconography companies use to help you notice and recognise their products.

A rule of thumb we’ve heard is that you ought to be able to recognise a brand if two or more of its codes are present.

That’s why we know a can contains Coke, even without the name – because it has that shade of red and that white ribbon, for example.

The flipside of this is that you only need to rip off two or three brand codes to signal to buyers that own-brand product X is similar to, and just as good as, the real thing.

The most recent triumph from Aldi is a lager design to evoke Carling and also Coors Light – both produced for the UK market by Molson-Coors.

The brand codes ‘Carters’ borrows from Carling include:

  • the mostly-white can
  • the black accent colour
  • an angular font with a broken A
  • brewed in Britain
  • the two-syllable name starting with ‘Car’
  • geometric stripes and slashes
  • the general layout

Then, from Coors, we have:

  • the mountain
  • the pale blue accent colour
  • the mostly white can

There’s also, perhaps, a bit of Carling Premier, the nitro variant, in the mix.

When we asked people on social media platform BlueSky which brand they thought Carters was designed to bring to mind everyone said Carling and/or Coors.

Cans of 1897 Brasserie Lager and a bottle of Grande Spanish Lager, both from Aldi. They're described in the text below.
SOURCE: Aldi.

Brasserie 1867, Grande and Shark Bay

There are others in Aldi’s current beer range, too.

Brasserie French Style Lager 1867 borrows its blue can, prominent historic date, red accent colour, and general Frenchness from Kronenbourg 1664 (Carlsberg).

Grande Spanish Lager is clearly inspired by Madrí (Molson Coors) with a mostly red label, line illustration of a retro-hipster bloke with facial hair, a very similar font and a name that’s sort of half rhymes with Madrí.

Bottles of Hatherwood Shark Bay with a label design that clearly evokes Sharp's Doom Bar.

One of our favourite examples is Shark Bay Amber Ale from Lidl, usually displayed alongside bottles of Sharp’s (Molson Coors) Doom Bar.

This one is so similar that we can imagine someone picking up a bottle by mistake, if they don’t pay close attention.

Some of it is quite subtle, though: the silver shark sits in about the same place as the silver Sharp’s logo; Shark sounds a bit like Sharp’s; and the word ‘bay’ in all capitals looks, at a glance, like the word ‘bar’.

Craft beer brands are, of course, not immune from having their brand codes hinted at. Aldi has two beers clearly inspired by, and designed to evoke, BrewDog.

Anti-Establishment IPA is a hilariously literal take on Punk IPA, hinting at the original with the typography, the various shades of blue, and text highlighting that it is brewed in Scotland.

And Memphis Blvd, a grapefruit IPA, does the same for Brewdog’s Elvis Juice.

Brand codes into category codes

If brand codes are about helping you spot individual products (or recognise bargain knock-offs of the same) then category codes are designed to signal which shelf a beer should sit on.

In 2024, craft beer codes tend to be things like:

  • indie-style cartoon illustrations
  • vibrant colours, gradients and patterns
  • on-trend style-magazine typography
  • abstract, poetic, quirky names
  • cans over bottles

While trad ale codes might be:

  • ‘heritage’ colours and tones
  • shields, crests and heraldic symbols
  • details in gold or silver foil
  • simpler, more straightforward names
  • or nostalgic ‘heritage’ names
  • bottles over cans

What confused things a few years ago was when brewers in the second category started borrowing codes from the first category in an attempt to muscle into that growing market.

That can be a problem when the beer in the would-be trendy can doesn’t match the expectation set by those codes.

And now we also have craft brewers borrowing ‘trad’ codes to help people understand where their new milds, bitters and porters fit into the scheme of things.

Main image sources: Aldi (Carter’s) and Molson Coors (Carling and Coors Light).

Categories
20th Century Pub marketing pubs

What is the Watney’s font?

A version of the Watney's logo in a modern digital font called Freehouse.

Watney’s brewery might have disappeared but its brand lives on in the collective memory and people often ask “What is that font?”

The post-war Watney’s brand identity was created by the Design Research Unit. They were commissioned by Watney’s in 1956 and eventually delivered a pioneering House Identification Manual in around 1960.

This guidance included comprehensive rules on which lettering styles to use, for which purposes, in which contexts.

So, there’s problem number 1: there is no single lettering style but rather a whole set of different, complementary ones.

Problem number 2 is that these weren’t ‘fonts’ in the 21st century sense.

This is a bit boring, and tends to bring out the pedants, but here’s a quick summary of the terminology as we understand it:

  • typeface – related sets of letters and numbers in different sizes and weights, like Gill Sans, which comes in bold, condensed, italic, shadowed, and so on.
  • font – a specific style of a particular typeface, such as 12 point Gill Sans Italic. In the days of traditional printing, this would be a single set of metal letters.
  • lettering style – a design for a set of letters and numbers that might not be used in print at all but cast in metal or plastic, cut from wood, or hand painted.

The meaning of ‘font’ has changed, however, so that, these days, it usually means a digital file you install, such as Roboto_Black.ttf (a TrueType font), which can be automatically resized.

And what most people want to know when they ask about a font is which one they should buy or download for their computer.

With that in mind, throughout this piece, we’ll suggest some digital fonts that will get you close to those used by Watney’s, even if they’re not exactly the same.

The information in this post comes from two Watney Mann in-house technical manuals, House Identification Manual and Basic Elements.

We’ve seen pages from these reproduced in other books and online but were very kindly sent complete scans by Nick Stone, AKA TypeJunky, to whom we owe several pints.

The font in the Watney’s Red Barrel logo

A diagram showing the Watney's red barrel logo on a grid with the word Watneys, no apostrophe, in all capitals.
How to layout the logo, from Basic Elements.

The famous Red Barrel logo has the word WATNEYS written across its centre in a style the manual calls Grotesque No. 9.

This style could also be used for, e.g., signs pointing to the toilets, or the lounge in a pub. But, in practice, that doesn’t often seem to have been done.

It was also allowed to be used for pub signs in specific circumstances – see below.

There are digital versions available.

The brand name font

A full alphabet in all capitals, laid out on a grid to show the correct dimensions and spacing. The letters are chunky and rounded. Text at the side says "Letter form 1: Clarendon Bold Expanded".
The capital letters from Watney’s Clarendon Bold Expanded, from Basic Elements.

The style used to write WATNEYS was described in the brand manual as Clarendon Bold Expanded. But no other font by this name actually looks like Watney’s version, which is sort of curvy and almost cartoonish.

There is, however, a modern digital font called ‘Freehouse’ designed specifically to mimic Watney’s lettering. That’s what we used for the image at the top of this post.

This style was also used to write the names of subsidiary breweries such as Bullard’s, Phipps, Usher’s, Wilson’s, tying together the various companies that were added to the Watney’s family as the 1960s went on.

The fonts used for Watney’s pub signs

A table with the first five letters of the alphabet in 6 different styles, as described in the text below.
A comparison of the permitted lettering styles from Basic Elements.
A selection of pub signs on display. Each has a brewery name, such as Phipps or Tamplin's, in the Clarendon Bold Expanded style, and the pub name in one of the serif or slab-serif fonts described below.
A display of pub names from an exhibition at the Design Centre in London in 1966, from The Red Barrel magazine, August 1966.

A common complaint about Watney’s was that their pubs, and the pubs of breweries they took over, all looked the same. In fact, there were a range of different lettering styles for pub signs, with some loose guidelines for which should be used for which brand, in which parts of the country.

In London, Watney’s own pubs used a style described as English Two-Line Antique, somewhat similar to Egyptian Italic and, to a lesser extent, Festive. It’s a 19th-century-style italic slab-serif that absolutely reeks of post-war Britain.

The closest digital font we can find to this is Antique No 6 Black Italic from Commercial Type but, oof, it’s not cheap.

A full alphabet in all capitals, laid out on a grid to show the correct dimensions and spacing. The letters are chunky and straight-edged, with quirky features. Text at the side says "Letter form 2: English Two-line Antique".
English Two-Line Antique, from Basic Elements.

An alternative was ‘Thorowgood Italic’, another 19th century slab-serif revived at around the time of the Festival of Britain. There’s a digital version of this available at a much more reasonable price.

Two plainer serif styles were also available: Clarendon, of which there are many digital versions, and something called ‘Modern No. 1 Wide’ for which we can’t find an exact match, but it’s in the Modern/Scotch family.

Finally, the red barrel logo font, Grotesque No. 9, was given as an option only for pubs “having narrow fascias” – because its letters are themselves relatively narrow.

Watney’s typography on packaging

A Watney’s beer mat from the 1960s.
A selection of Watney's branded items such as trays, ashtrays, menus, beer bottles, beer cans, and guide books.
A selection of branded items pictured in 1960, from The Practical Idealists by John and Avril Blake, 1969.

We don’t have copies of the manuals for this but grab any Watney Mann beer label or promotional item and you can see the same lettering styles being applied, with similar rules.

Handmade, not digital

If you want to recreate the Watney’s look for your own project – a beer label, say, or a sign for the pub in your shed, consider how you’ll avoid the digital look.

Digital fonts can be a great place to start. But back in the 1960s, signs were painted or cut by hand by craftsmen who painstakingly transferred the letter styles from manuals and pattern books.

This meant they were often subtly wonky or misaligned, with a somewhat organic feel.

And printed labels had ink bleed and other characteristics that gave them texture. There are lots of tutorials on this, like this from Spoon Graphics.

Categories
breweries marketing

The secret language of Young’s is being lost

A wall in a pub listing defunct Young's brands: Bitter, Special, and Waggle Dance.

Young’s was an important London brewery, and remains an important London brand, but it might be losing its place in the city’s language.

Back in the 1970s, Young’s, under the leadership of John Young, was a holdout against keg beer and its beers were championed by the Campaign for Real Ale. It even had its own fan club.

But when we first started blogging about beer, in 2007, things weren’t going so well.

The beer, people said, had been declining in quality for years, and wasn’t what it used to be in those early days of CAMRA.

In 2006, Young’s had sold a majority stake to Charles Wells, John Young died, and the Ram Brewery in Wandsworth closed. Production moved to Bedford.

It felt like the end of an era, especially as it took London down to just 9 breweries, 5 of which were brewpubs.

In the decade that followed, Charles Wells bought out Young & Co and the brewing brand and pub company became totally separate entities, though Young’s branded beer was still generally found in Young’s branded pubs.

What surprised us was the persistent fondness for the brand in London, and especially in South West London.

People really didn’t seem to care where it was brewed, or whether it was any good, as long as they could still buy a pint of ‘Ordinary’ (bitter), a pint of ‘Spesh’ (Special, the best bitter), and perhaps a bottle of ‘Ram’ (Ram Rod bottled strong ale).

Practical linguistics

That traditional insider vocabulary has always delighted us, and its persistence was a sign that Young’s fandom was clinging on as an idea and a sort of subculture.

Back in about 2013 we tried to order “Half a pint of Special in a pint glass and a bottle of Ram Rod, please,” only for the teenager behind the bar to reply, witheringly, “I do know what a Ram’n’Spesh is.”

At a Young’s pub in Wandsworth in 2022, with the pandemic still distorting the pub going experience, we were delighted to find Ram’n’Spesh as an option in the Young’s app we used to order beer to our table.

And even in Bristol, at The Highbury Vaults, we still seem to be able to order Ordinary and get a pint of Young’s Bitter – despite the fact it’s been renamed London Original.

But there are worrying signs.

A pint of what?

In more than one pub on recent trips to London we’ve found that the secret language of Young’s no longer works.

At The Lamb in Leadenhall Market, for example, asking for Ordinary baffled the bar staff. Asking for Ram Rod confused them, too.

Perhaps that’s because these days it’s less a pub for City clerks from the Surrey Side and more of an Instagram-worthy tourist attraction.

Or maybe Carlsberg-Marston’s, which owns the brewing brand, has started to enforce brand discipline.

Starbuck’s coffee shop staff are supposedly to repeat your order back in the correct brand language:

“A small black coffee, please.”

“A tall Americano?”

Something like that, perhaps.

After all, when you’re spending money marketing London Original you sure as hell want people to call it that, and ask for it by name.

And while ‘Ordinary’ strikes us rather a lovely bit of self-deprecating understatement, it’s perhaps not where you’d start if you’re naming a beer to stand out in the crowded market of 2024.

What’s your experience?

Have you successfully ordered a pint of Ordinary recently?

Or, on the flipside, encountered a member of bar staff who didn’t know what you were talking about?

We’ll keep testing the water when we’re in Young’s pubs, asking for Ordinary, and seeing what we get.

Categories
marketing

Why do people like Guinness?

A plaque on a pub that says "Perfect draught Guinness served here".

If other breweries want to compete with Guinness’s market dominance they need to accept this key fact: people actually like it.

Once you recognise the truth of it, you can ask another important question: why?

And the answers to that might be because:

…it’s pretty.

…it’s less gassy than other beers.

… it feels different in your mouth to almost any other beer.

…it always tastes the same.

…even the dodgiest pub can’t ruin it.

…it’s a premium product that hasn’t gone up in price too much.

…it’s not Carling or Stella or Fosters or John Smith’s.

…it’s not that keg IPA from the big regional brewer you perhaps thought you liked in 2016.

…it’s the best option when the other choices are Harp or a ‘weird red ale’.

…it’s what you think grown-ups drink when you’re 19.

…it still, somehow, feels vaguely countercultural; a discerning choice.

…it’s what your parents or grandparents drank.

…it’s the most Irish thing you can get in most English pubs.

…‘stout’ has a proud round sound in your mouth.

…it’s cold out.

…it’s Sunday.

…the pub is covered in Guinness advertising and your mouth started watering.

…there’s a blackboard that says ‘Best Guinness in Bristol’ and how can you turn that down?

…they like the ceremony, the wait, the shamrock on top.

…it’s the only decent beer at the gig venue, wedding reception, rugby game, racetrack bar, and so on.

…it feels hefty but only has 4.2% ABV.

…they don’t care about beer industry politics.

…stouts from other breweries aren’t like Guinness.

…it’s a habit.

…being A Guinness Drinker is part of their identity.

…alcohol-free stout is better than alcohol-free anything else.

…it slips down easily.

…it makes a change.

…it was good in the 1970s.

…it feels substantial and filling.

…it’s good for you, isn’t it?

* * *

Five or six of the above are statements we happen to agree with ourselves.

Others we’ve heard in conversation, or were suggested when we asked about this on Mastodon and Twitter.

For more on the same subject see also:

Categories
Generalisations about beer culture marketing

Where is that lager with your town’s name on really from?

Bristol in the abstract

We’re back on this again: should consumers be told, at point of sale, if a beer is brewed somewhere other than at the brewery whose name it bears?

Bristol Beer Factory is a substantial, well-established brewery, so we had no reason to doubt that its Infinity lager is brewed here in Bristol. And because we never doubted it, we never thought to research it.

If we had, we’d have found this page on the website which explains its provenance in some detail:

For lager that was particularly important and challenging for us with our restrictions on space to fit the necessary bespoke lager tanks into our compact site on North Street. Anyone who has been on a tour of our brewery will know that space is already at a massive premium. Thus, the reason we have not brewed a lager before now: we did not have the space to add the necessary tanks and equipment to brew a world-class lager. So, it became clear, we needed to find a creative solution… We started looking all over for a partner brewery… Utopian Brewery, near Crediton Devon, had recently been set up by Richard Archer and were now producing fantastically brewed, British lagers… [and] we quickly established that Utopian were the brewery that we were looking for.

That is a pretty decent degree of transparency, isn’t it?

You might observe that this important information is delivered quite a long way down quite a long page, after a history of Helles as a style – why not put it in the first paragraph?

But maybe that’s quibbling.

The problem is that where we really need the information, as buyers, is on the front of the can, or the font in the pub, or the beer menu, or the blackboard with the beer list.

When we Tweeted about this the other night we certainly didn’t think it was a ‘scoop’. If anything, we felt a bit daft.

How could we, living in Bristol and reasonably switched on to goings-on in the industry, have missed this important detail?

And if we didn’t know, what are the chances that most people ordering a pint in the pub will have any idea at all?

“But they probably don’t care!”

Well, imaginary heckler, we come back to a point we’ve made before: if it doesn’t matter where it’s from, why put Bristol in the name of your brewery? There’s clearly some perceived value in local, independent, and all those other nice ideas.

People in Bristol, perhaps more than in many other parts of the UK, like to buy Bristol Things – or, if they must, Somerset or Gloucestershire Things. Devon? Might as well be Tasmania.

On Twitter, Ed Wray provided a reason why transparency might be difficult:

That makes sense. 

Let’s say Bristol Beer Factory decides to put ‘Brewed by our friends at Utopian in Devon’ on packaging and in point-of-sale copy.

Then, two months later, they decide they need to increase capacity and start working with a second partner, or switch to a bigger brewing partner.

They’d have to reprint labels, reissue font lenses, update website pages, brief staff and customers…

Keeping it vague certainly makes sense in terms of efficiency.

As consumers, this is very much not our problem. But we get it.

What this has done is reminded us to check the origins of craft lagers.

Is (some) Lost & Grounded Helles still being brewed in Belgium, for example? We think so, but there’s no easy way to find out.