A New Ice Age--Maybe
by JOHN GRAHAM
jgraham@wweek.com

Pierre Smirnoff? The man whose name graces all those eponymous vodka bottles? I like to think of him as a good friend. At least, he was a close acquaintance in high school. Sure, there were times I wished I'd never met the bastard's distilled specter-in-a-bottle--but I can definitely say ol' Pierre was the finest man I've ever repeatedly kissed on the mouth. (Captain Morgan was just a fling, I say, a cheap weekend of slam-bam on the table and floor and then see ya later, you mustachioed jackass in a pirate hat.)

But with college came easy access to kegs, and sweaty dalliances with America's gutterdrunk sweethearts: Budweiser, Busch, Pabst. Poor Pierre was left behind. Goodbye, Moscow. Hello, Milwaukee.

Now Ste. Pierre Smirnoff Ltd., perhaps tired of being ignored, is trying to recapture my strayed heart, reignite the inebriated flame we once shared by introducing its friendly new family member: Smirnoff Ice. No, it's not vodka. Although the bottle's back label quietly says it's "flavored beer," Smirnoff Ice is actually a malt beverage--yeah, like Zima--with a crisp citrus flavor added. Or, to be more specific, it's a member of that class of amiable alcohol drinks dubbed "alco-pop," a broad category that includes everything from light wine coolers to hard lemonades.

One thing's for sure--from first contact, it's clear Sminoff Ice is not beer. The cloudy-white, carbonated drink essentially tastes like half-and-half soda (a fizzy grapefruit/lime blend found in the Northeast) with some booze subtly mixed in for added eye-sparkling energy. Not much booze, mind you. The ABV is a modest 5 percent--just enough to remind me this ain't Fresca. Its fruity flavor will certainly not appeal to hirsute hooch-heads or lager fiends (despite TV commercials featuring flannel dudes fighting off bears in campgrounds), but it is amazingly easy to drink. No bloating at the disco here, ladies! Say it with me: Whoooooo! ("And omigod, this is like my favorite song!")

These prancing pals constitute exactly the market in which Smirnoff Ice has hit the European cash jackpot. Over the past six months in the U.K. alone, Smirnoff Ice has sold $300 million worth of the stuff, much of that among the dance-club demographic. It's easy to see why: Unlike beer's soggy-sponge effect, having an Ice-capade wouldn't keep you from getting rumpalicious to your favorite ultrahouse traxx.

But in America, where any dancing that doesn't involve robotically scooting in a line to Billy Ray Cyrus apparently makes you a wuss, Smirnoff Ice will probably fight an uphill battle for acceptance. Merely advertising during the Super Bowl won't win the Anheuser-devoted love of brawny good ol' boys. They'll take one sniff and turn back to their black-and-gold MGD without so much as a second thought for Smirnoff Jr. and his shiny red label. Ah, sad little Pierre--what do you have to do to keep our love?