The author, John Marek, is a writer and CEO of the Anson Economic Development Partnership.
This summer, Pepsico is releasing a limited edition flavor of MTN DEW called “Summer Freeze.” The label claims it is “MTN DEW with the taste of Americana,” while the DEW website clarifies that it is “DEW with a refreshing and bold red, white and blue ice pop flavor. This cherry, lemon and raspberry flavor tastes like the best summer of your life … you know the one.” I’ve tried it, and while it does broadly deliver on the Bomb Pop flavor, I’m not so sure about the best summer part.
Nostalgia, a sentimental longing for the past, has a unique power over human emotions, transporting individuals to cherished moments and evoking warmth and comfort. As society progresses, nostalgia has evolved, giving rise to two distinct forms: real nostalgia, derived from personal experiences and genuine connections to the past, and manufactured nostalgia, a commercially-driven attempt to recreate and capitalize on those sentimental emotions.
Real nostalgia emanates from authentic experiences and personal memories that connect individuals to their past. It stems from an individual’s interactions, relationships and cultural influences during a particular era or period. I was driving to the office this morning and heard a song on the oldies station, “Drivers Seat” by Sniff ‘N’ The Tears. I was magically transported for three minutes and 44 seconds to the fall of 1979 and the first few days of my senior year in high school. Such real nostalgia is deeply rooted in genuine emotions, evoked by tangible reminders or triggers, such as family photographs, heirlooms or familiar scents and songs.
On the other hand, manufactured nostalgia is a deliberate and calculated attempt by marketers, media and entertainment industries to recreate and monetize the emotional appeal of the past. It often employs specific aesthetics, pop culture references or simulated experiences to evoke a targeted response. The show “Stranger Things” uses these sorts of simulated memories of the mid-80s to great effect. Scenes invoking the movies, songs, clothing and “malling” experience are designed to invoke a warm, comfortable backdrop against which the horror plot plays out. These artificial attempts lack the organic connection to personal memories and are tailored to appeal to broader audiences, thus diluting the authenticity of the experience.
Manufactured nostalgia can have both positive and negative impacts on society. On the one hand, it can facilitate a shared cultural experience, uniting individuals through common references and creating a sense of belonging. It can also act as a form of escapism, offering comfort and relief from the complexities of the modern world. However, the commodification of nostalgia can also lead to an overreliance on the past and may contribute to a shallow understanding of history, as manufactured nostalgia often focuses on surface-level aesthetics rather than the deeper cultural and social context.
Many fondly remember their youthful summers; the family vacations, sunny afternoons at the pool and the jing-jangly ice cream truck’s familiar song as it rolled down their street. But these are not authentic experiences for me. The tiny rural village where I grew up didn’t have a pool or an ice cream truck. My actual memories of summer, while fond, are very different from the manufactured nostalgia of Summer Freeze and “Stranger Things.” I roamed the woods and the bayshore when the weather was good and watched cheesy movies on TV when it rained. I did science experiments – the baking soda/vinegar thing was my go-to – in my basement “workshop” and caught lightning bugs and cabbage moths in the thick twilight. And yet, I sometimes have to remind myself of those facts, so pervasive is the event horizon pull of corporate storytelling.
Part of me wants to praise Pepsico for trying to evoke memories of happy times through a soft drink flavor. Still, another part wants to deride them for the manipulative commercialism inherent in the idea.