Beyond the spirit’s captivating flavours, the hallowed values of authenticity and integrity are undoubtedly at the core of whisky’s appeal, and this has been more or less the case on both sides of the Atlantic for well over a century. Scotch whisky and bourbon became the internationally recognised spirits of their respective nations in no small part because their makers were committed to provenance, craftsmanship, and quality.
We see these values reflected in many brand straplines through the ages, with Ballantine’s ‘Stay True’ messaging being just one contemporary example of a brand appealing to drinkers’ affinity for the ‘true characters’, real stories, and core values behind their favourite drams.
This is a long way of saying that, traditionally, whisky enthusiasts’ love for the water of life is a conscious rejection of alternatives perceived as industrial, inferior, and superficial. For this reason, it’s always struck me that shallow celebrity partnerships, which see famous faces slapped on billboards next to bottles, are incongruous with the values underpinning the spirit. Sure, these partnerships might help get eyeballs on a brand name and shift cases for a few years, but my gut has always told me they’re not an effective method for building lasting loyalty or advocacy and, therefore, not truly worth the considerable expense nor the reputational risk they entail.
Haig Club’s failure to generate traction, even with David Beckham at the helm, is perhaps the most relevant example backing this hypothesis — though a fair share of the blame lies with that brand’s overall proposition. Still, failing to make an impact is probably preferable to what can happen when celebrity associations really go wrong. Diageo’s recent public legal spat with the former face of Cîroc Vodka and DeLeon Tequila, Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs, pales in comparison to the rapper’s current reason for hitting the headlines, highlighting the true risk of marrying an unknowable celebrity to a spirits brand. Even when all’s said and done in the courts, and the news cycle moves on, will anyone be able to sip a Cîroc or DeLeon (or, for that matter, a Proper No. Twelve Irish Whiskey) again without thinking about their respective figureheads’ widely reported alleged behaviour?
Of course, tie-ins don’t always blow up so spectacularly, but what message does it send when they just fizzle out? Even creative partnerships driven by supposed real passion on the part of the celebrity end when contracts expire, as was the case when Matthew McConaughey stepped down from his role as creative director at Wild Turkey. If genuine celebrity advocates don’t stay for the long haul, how can drinkers recruited through such links be expected to remain loyal?
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not blind to the fact that some celebrity partnerships can potentially promote a more inclusive whisky space by making hitherto under-served and under-represented communities feel welcome in the global whisky scene — at least superficially. However, I can’t shake the feeling that this argument is a bit of a cop-out, and that the massive budgets needed to strike such deals could be better spent fostering real inclusivity at a grassroots level through sponsorship, scholarships, community outreach, start-up seed capital, and, internally, better employee remuneration, continuous development, generous family leave, and progression opportunities that make decades-long loyalty to a particular employer not just possible but desirable for those at every level of the business.
In my view, it’s these initiatives that will incubate the real whisky celebrities of tomorrow: the distillers, blenders, ambassadors, founders, bartenders, educators, community leaders, scientists, engineers, guides, creatives, and communicators committed to a life in whisky; genuine advocates who’ll be empowered to bring newcomers into the fold and make whisky a more diverse, more welcoming, more inspiring, and more fulfilling place for all. That’s how true loyalty is built, and I bet this approach will sell more bottles in the long run, too. For now, I’ll watch celebrity tie-ins from afar with a double measure of scepticism.
