I'm giving up White Claw. Forever*

It's time to take a stand.

I’ve thought about this for a while. I want to be clear that this isn’t a decision I’m making lightly, and I’ve carefully weighed what this choice means for my drinking future. But I’m here today to say that I’m done with White Claw. I’m cutting it out of my life, and I’m not looking back. You, too, can join me on this journey, but you don’t have to. Allow me to explain, and see if any of this resonates.

For the uninitiated, let’s discuss briefly what White Claw is and the position it occupies within the alcohol cinematic universe. When I say “White Claw” I mean the specific brand of alcoholic seltzers that seemingly came out of nowhere around 2019 or so, and quickly became omnipresent among a certain social cohort. There are 13 regular flavors, but also four “surf” flavors, four “surge” flavors, and eight “refrshr” iced tea and lemonade flavors.¹ They all come in a skinny can, and are all 5% abv, except for the “surge” line, which is kind of disgusting and comes in at 8%. By and large, people stick to the OG regular Claws, and the three flavor packs that are sold in immediately recognizable, white-with-an-accent-color cubes. People might have strong-ish opinions on which flavor they prefer — black cherry, ruby grapefruit, watermelon, “natural lime,” etc. — but it’s all White Claw. That’s White Claw the brand. But you also have your Trulys and Topo Chicos and High Noons and Vizzys, etc. .. and they’re all more or less the same. Still a skinny can, still roughly 5% abv, and carbonated with some sort of fruit-associated flavor.²

Now, my experience isn’t everyone’s experience, and I can’t even say with confidence that what I’m describing here is a universal phenomenon. You, dear reader, might not even know that White Claw is a real thing for particular social sets. But trust me that it is. Among a certain crowd of gays and theys and 20/30-something let’s-drink-the-day-away people, White Claw has become ubiquitous. A house party or backyard hangout or a pre-game in someone’s apartment is understood to be the precise environment where one picks up a Cube o’Claws to bring as an offering to the host. It is your byob admission ticket. Shove your cube into the refrigerator along with the other six or nine 12-packs that are already sitting there. Don’t be that guy who brings a four-pack of artisanal 8% small batch double-hopped IPAs to the party, and then drinks everyone else’s Claws. Bring your own damn Claws and add them to the pile, because that’s what everyone else is consuming. It’s inoffensive, it’s the default, and it’s what’s expected.

Don’t forget to bring some Claws.

But damnit. I’m here to say that this system sucks. There’s no thought behind it, and there’s no joy. Two and a half white claws consumed in any particular social setting, and I start to feel sick. I do not want to keep drinking these. Taste-wise, they’re fine, I suppose — aggressively fine, even. They’re fine in the way that partly cloudy days are fine and PG-rated movies and Kraft macaroni and cheese and Dove body wash are all fine. My objection to White Claw isn’t about the taste. The problem with White Claw is its soullessness. It has no character. It’s mildly flavored fizzy water that’s supposed to taste like mildly flavored fizzy water and nothing else. To drink White Claw is to say to yourself, “I am with friends, and I want something to do with my hands and mouth, and social time is more fun when there are drinks — but I do not care what I drink, and honestly I’m just doing this as a social convention.”

There is no tradition or narrative that underlies White Claw. It is a non-drink, plucked from the fridge in an act of non-decision that inhabits a non-space — so forgettable as to be almost unperceived. It is a liminal beverage — the equivalent of a strip mall parking lot or a plastic bag you paid 5 cents for at Target.

Point in fact: White Claw is almost exclusively found at house parties. No one who’s at all serious about what they drink orders a White Claw at a bar. Why would you? It’s like going out for the night, heading to a bar-club-lounge to meet up with your friends, and wearing sweatpants. It’s a 2020 / covid-pod move. Put on hard pants and order a real drink, for Christ’s sake. Life is rich and multi-layered, the bar is stocked with a million drinks of every variety. Don’t order a freaking White Claw like you’re standing around at a house party talking awkwardly while leaning up against the kitchen island.

And look .. I say all this out of love. I truly love drinking drinks with my friends. It is one of my top five or six pleasures in life. I hope to drink a lot more with a lot more people for years to come. But damnit if I don’t want to spend that time drinking carbonated artificial fruit flavored water. I want taste. I want reality. I want the history and baggage that comes with drinking something that existed before 2019.

Do I really need to spell this out? It just seems so obvious to me that White Claw cannot possibly stand in any place of distinction alongside the other drinks in the alcohol canon. Wine is rich with layers and meaning — every bottle tells its own story and reveals certain secrets about its origin and the person who consumes it. Beer is infinitely complex and certainly not for everybody (many beers I find strong and bitter and off-putting, oftentimes not unlike the people who consume them!), but there’s a text there that can be explored. A beer says something. An IPA is a world away from a pilsner is nothing like a stout. Spirits and cocktails, without question, are a rich universe unto themselves that you could devote a lifetime to exploring.

And then.. there’s White Claw. It reduces alcohol to the level of something that could be served from a vending machine, or a fountain dispenser — not unlike Coke or Pepsi or the other carbonated beverages it’s designed to imitate. White Claw says “I don’t actually like drinking at all — I don’t find it interesting or worthy of intentional decisionmaking — I just enjoy the mild buzz.” It’s of a piece with modern home interiors and real estate stagings that are white white white white everywhere without a splink of character or color in sight. It comes in “flavors,” sure, but the flavors are meaningless. “Watermelon” is a simulacrum of actual watermelon, in the same way that a PSL is somehow supposed to be related to actual pumpkins despite having nothing to do with pumpkins. No one really associates White Claw flavors with the things they’re supposed to represent. The flavors just exist as names and ideas and colors to give the drink a cheap veneer of character.

“But what about Bud Light and Miller Lite Michelob Ultra and PBR and a million other shitty watery beers out there??” I hear you say. “Surely White Claw is no different from mass-produced, flavorless, corporate Bud Light??” To which I say, no. You’re wrong. Bud Light is deeply ingrained in decades of bland American cultural pastiche. It tastes like nothing, but it doesn’t come from nothing. Bud Light is the drink of the Super Bowl. If the TODAY show were an alcoholic drink, it would be Coors Light (because moms like Coors Light). These beers have presence. Even basement-level shit beers like Natural Lite or Keystone at least have the badge of honor of being the cheapest way a 20-year-old with a fake ID can elbow his way into a dorm room party. There’s something to be said for that. White Claw is none of these.³

So yes.. for all these reasons.. I’m out. Life is short, there’s SO much drinking yet to be done (if we’re lucky), and I’m not going to waste a minute more on a corporate earnings report of a drink like White Claw. Nevertheless, astute readers will note the asterisk in the headline for this piece and say… wait a minute. Really, you’re giving this up forever? NO White Claw? But what about [insert scenario where White Claw would be a naturally preferred choice for drinking something]??

And I mean.. point taken. There are hot, lazy days at the beach, or on a boat, where I suppose *maybe* White Claw makes sense. There are summers still to be spent on roof decks and in back yards where people play flip cup and beer pong, and the POINT of those games is to drink something passively and without real intention while competing to do some silly and trivial thing with a Solo cup. Am I honestly saying I’ll never have another White Claw in those circumstances? Well.. what I’m saying is, not if I can help it. I don’t want a White Claw, not in a box and not with a fox, and I will drink just about anything else if I can get away with it.

If I need something with bubbles, I’m going to try my damnedest to stick to prosecco or cava or what have you. It’s classier. It’s more interesting. I’ve reached a stage in life where I can justify it. And if I’m only having one drink or two, light beer is fine. PBR has a silly hipster vibe, but it at least IS a vibe, and I’ll take it. More to the point, the world of shitty tasting light beer is diverse! It’s an Old Style in Chicago, or Natty Boh in Baltimore/DC, a Yuengling, or a Narragansett or Anchor Steam or Pacifico, and all of these have a distinct, regional flair that says something, even if, admittedly, they’re all just American light beers that taste the same. It’s all better than White Claw because there’s an authenticity to these drinks that White Claw simply lacks. White Claw is, by design, a fraction of an inch away from LaCroix and all the other non-alcoholic seltzer waters, and it forces me to reckon with the reality that, if that’s what I want, maybe I should just drink the non-alcoholic LaCroix and own that choice. White Claw implicitly leaves open the question, “Why am I bothering with this?” and any more, I just don’t have an answer. “Actually, never mind. I’ll pass.”

There is so much of modern life that has been flattened — turned into an easier, frictionless version of what was previously interesting and textured and nuanced. Writing letters to friends by hand gave way to phone calls gave way to text messages gave way to likes and heart-reactions. Music on the radio and vinyl/CDs gave way to MP3s and the iPod gave way to streaming whatever Spotify serves up through the app. Life has gotten unquestionably easier and there’s no undoing that. But it doesn’t have to be that way with everything. I’m taking a stand when it comes to what I drink. Drinking alcohol should still be a matter of intention. It’s fun and central to social cohesion for so many people. It should feel like it matters. White Claw doesn’t matter. It’s the Lack coffee table of drinks. I’m out.

1. Presumably “Refrshr” flavors are app-based. Like Grindr and Tumblr and Flickr, but for drinks.

2. Yes, technically High Noon is a distilled product that contains vodka, rather than White Claw which is a brewed beverage that’s made using fermented sugar. So High Noon is different than other seltzers, and that’s why it arguably tastes a bit better and is more expensive (because of the tax code!). But whatever. I’m painting with a broad brush here.

3. To be fair, there is one light beer that belongs in with the soulless White Claw category, and that’s Michelob Ultra. At 55 calories, Michelob Ultra is so close to water and so chemically engineered to be unoffensive as to be truly pointless. It is the drink that says “I’m not sure I should be drinking anything, and if they could just sell me a can of compressed air that was 3.2% abv, I’d rather consume that.” It’s a drink marketed to fitness-conscious athletes, I guess — the drink that says “I’m glad to be out drinking with you, but I do plan to get up at 6am and run 8 miles tomorrow.” But… why bother? Just .. drop the pretense that you enjoy alcoholic drinks. Real drinks incur consequences, so own that.