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Camouflage Package Design Continued

Lest anyone imagine that camouflage patterns were confined only to beverage packaging, here are some recent examples of camouflage package design, in general.

Because of its star logo, Amour Star seems ready-made for a patriotic camouflage treatment, although it’s debatable how American a “Vienna Sausage” can ever be. (Designed by Bob Oliva)

Jiffy Pop, too, has undergone camouflage treatment. (Via: Lester Of Puppets’s Flickr Photostream)

“Powderflage” powder concealer comes in a camouflage canister. (Note how its camo pattern is made of butterflies.)

Srixon’s camouflaged USO golf balls pack, we’ve mentioned before.

Yoder’s canned bacon comes in a camouflage patterned can.

“A Bathing Ape” (aka: BAPE) has for a while featured camouflage patterns in its branding.

And Huggie’s diapers have also supported our troops through camouflage patterning.

Also: camouflage candy...

and camouflage peanuts, for some reason.

(and one more example, after the fold...)

Camouflage Pattern Beverage Branding

On left: Camouflage pattern Miller beer can (from: The Sparkler); on right: Busch beer’s autumnal camouflage (from: 2CoolFishing message board)

Originally developed as a functional pattern (as opposed to a decorative pattern) camouflage might seem an odd choice for product packaging since the pattern is meant to conceal.

Usually product packages are designed to attract attention so it’s striking when a package is designed to disappear into the background. Of course, the environment of store shelves is quite different from outdoor environments. So what blends into the background in the desert sands might actually be quite conspicuous at the grocery store. And vice versa.

Probably the point of using camo in this context has more to do with masculine connotations of hunting and military service than in concealment.

Miller Brewing had this to says about it’s limited edition camouflage packaging:

“Miller High Life is again honoring its century-old connection with the outdoors by introducing limited-edition, camouflaged packaging and cans of Miller High Life and Miller High Life Light.”

Photo, above right, from Wishful Slacker

2009 Vault Citrus camouflage can from ebid; photo on right from Eating in Translation

It should also be noted that there are products available for camouflaging beer cans...

(One more thing about camouflage beverage branding...)

Camouflage Cans

Definition of “Camouflage Can”...

A can produced in olive green for the U.S. military from 1944-45. It used to be thought that the cans were colored olive green as camouflage, but it is now generally believed that they were painted green simply because the US Army had almost everything it purchased painted that color. Most camouflage cans are rare and are highly desirable to collectors. Many were shipped to troops overseas and so cannot be found in the US easily.

from Rusty Can

(Also called “olive drab” or “OD” cans.)

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Schweppes Anthro-Pack Christmas

I’ve been cataloging appearances of anthropomorphic packages in advertising for some time now. I have little evidence that anyone else cares about this, but I’m not shy or skittish about beating a dead horse... These examples are part of the 1950s—60s Schweppes campaign called “Schweppshire.”

Meant as a humorous reference to Christmas shopping days, the headline for these ads is “How many Schwepping Days To Christmas?” To my ears, “Schwepping” sounds a lot closer to “schlepping” than “shopping.” But “schlepping” is also a pretty apt description of what the shopping experience can be like at this time of year.

Most of these ads were illustrated by  George Him, except for the one with Santa conducting the singing bottles, which was drawn by E.R. Bartelt.

(The ads, in the entirety, after the fold...)

A “Penny Machine” for Christmas

Photo via: The National Museum of Play

Above: something I once wanted and didn’t get. Anyone who grew up celebrating a consumer Christmas has one of these. Not necessarily this toy in particular, but something they wanted for Christmas—something they asked Santa Claus for—and did not receive. The “Penny Machine” is the one that I remember.

I had forgotten that it was called a Coney Island Penny Machine, I’m pretty sure it was just a “Penny Machine” that I told my mother was my number 1 Christmas wish. Clearly, the Remco television commercial below was what sold me on this product.

I must have been a pretty avaristic child to want a toy that endlessly dispensed other toys. Sort of like the trick of using your wish to ask for more wishes.

I hadn’t remembered the commercial being so olde-timey. I don’t think I would have identified much with the boy in the commercial, although I totally identify with the boy on the box—(who looks just me at that age). Perhaps it was the fantasy of impressing a girl with my skill in winning prizes that explains this commercial’s effect on me. Never mind that the carnival attraction, in this case, would have been located in my toy box.

Whatever desires it unleashed in me, my mother didn’t seem as impressed with this product or its commerical. Had it been a birthday request, I might have worked harder to persuade her. With Christmas, however, I figured it didn’t much matter what she thought about it. As long as I was right with Santa, it needn’t concern her. My record of good behavior stood for itself and made me confident that the Remco prize-dispensing machine would soon be my prized possession.

I know this sounds a lot like Ralphie and the Red Ryder BB gun in “A Christmas Story” which is embarrassing, but remember: in that movie [spoiler alert] he ultimately got what he asked for. The significance of not getting what you ask for is different.

Not that I’m whining about it now or that I had gotten everything I ever wanted up until that Christmas. But it’s the first thing that I can remember specifically asking Santa for, that I later noticed I didn’t get. Which raised certain existential questions...

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Roly Poly Clown Containers and the Santa-Clown Hybrid

1: “vintage Russian celluloid roly-poly ding clown doll 60s” (via: eBay); 2: a toy from The Canadian Design Resource site; 3: a Weeble clown from Abraracourcix’s Flickr Photostream; 4: roly poly clown from Live Auctioneers

Following up on Monday’s “Mr. Sprinkles” bottles, another point of reference for their weeble-like bottle shape was probably vintage “roly poly” toys of this type. Sometimes used as containers, as with the “Roly Poly Clown Bubble Bath” bottle on right and the antique “Clown Roly Poly Candy Container” below.

But my real agenda, in bringing this up, is that I needed a way to segue from clowns to Christmas, and the roly poly thing seems to provide that. The grouping of roly poly Santas below is from Sushipot.

Left: 1930s tin roly poly Santa (via: Antique Trader); center: reproduction of a 1900s roly poly Santa tobacco tin container (via: Ruby Lane); on right: Celluloid Sata Claus roly poly toy (also via: Ruby Lane)

But Santa Claus and clowns have more in common than just roly poly toys and containers. They both wear unusual outfits, often with similar hats. It was inevitable that the characters would someday be merged:

Depending on who you ask, Santa Clown is either a hilarious or thoroughly terrifying combination of two well known figures: Santa Claus and a Circus Clown.

What is Santa Clown? (via: Info Barrel)

(Santa Clown imagery, after the fold...)

Clown Jars

Clown time continues with some clown-related jars from Etsy: a handmade clown cookie jar (yours, for $64.00) and “12 Vintage Clown Cupcake Toppers in Vintage Jar” (sold).

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Mr. Sprinkles Package Design Makeover

An exception to the general waning of CPG clown packaging:

“Mr. Sprinkles,” (whose weeble-like bottle won the 2009 “Gold” award from the National Association of Container Distributors) has recently been redesigned.

Originally the bottle was more closely akin to inflatable punching bag clowns (see inset right) but, while the overall effect of the new package design is less of a fully-embodied, anthropomorphic pack, the new clown illustration is now more identifiable and less threatening. The product still shows through the window into the clown’s sprinkle-filled belly.

The illustration style looks familiar. (Maybe someone knows whose work this is?)

Photo above left comes from the orginal “Mr. Spinkles” trademark filing. The photo above right is from Bakerella.

(See also: Gömböc Bottle)

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Clown Cereal

Clown cereal boxes (Kellogg’s, General Mills & Post) were, I think, all from Dan Goodsell’s Flickr Photostream

My early childhood was spent in Sarasota, Florida, home of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College.

While clowns have been culturally waning for some time now, in those days, there was a show called “Circus Boy” on television (starring a young Micky Dolenz who grew up to become the Monkee‘s drummer) and there were lots of circus-themed packages at the grocery store. Not yet scary, clowns were still considered a good way to market children’s cereals.

Why the sudden interest in clowns, you ask?

(Asked and answered, after the fold...)

Dan Witz: Bar Shrine Paintings

“Shrine” (I’ve also seen this painting titled as “Bar”) 2006, 68x40 oil and mixed media on canvas

Dan Witz (mentioned in yesterday’s post) was one of several roommates that I shared a low-ceilinged, South Street Seaport loft with in the late 1970s.

I like his paintings of liquor bottles. The one above from 2006 seems to have two different titles: “Bar” and “Shrine.” His later liquor bottle paintings from 2010 seem to have combined these two titles into “Bar Shrine.”

I can find nothing online to suggest that it’s intentional, but the painting above looks like a skull to me. A subliminal vanitas symbol for a splendid array of liquor choices? (Death-as-bartender: “Name your poison!”)

Bar Shrine #2 Triptych, 2010, 56" x 84" oil and digital media on canvas

(One more “Bar Shrine” painting, after the fold...)

Ron English: Popaganda Shopdropping

Ron English is the artist who created the zipper/banana album cover mash-up that we wrote about last January.

More recently he’s been doing some cereal box package design (i.e.: art) which he’s been shopdropping into supermarkets. These “popaganda” food repacks are subversive in the same dumb sort of way that Wacky Packages were: creating momentary consumer confusion and adding a satiric, negative spin to trademarked food brands.

Some commentators have taken the cereal series as nutritional agitprop in opposition of childhood obesity. I’m not sure that English’s agenda is so politically correct, but I could be wrong.

The fun part of shopdropping, however, is when consumers puzzle over the aberrant branding messages and, in some cases, blithely purchase them.

Part of the reason I prefer not think that English’s messaging is sincerely literal is the “Sugar Diabetic Bear” below, which in my (diabetic) view is amusing, but not entirly accurate. Yes, Type 2 diabetes can be brought on by obesity, but what about Type 1 diabetes? Eating sugar certainly didn’t cause my diabetes. (See: Diabetes Myths)

(One more thing about Ron English and diabetes, after the fold...)

Bottles with Embroidered Shirt Labels

Another example of cross-category, clothing-related package design: Eau de Lacoste “Poloshirt in a Fragrance” bottles with their alligator shirt embem. Note the fabric texture on the sides of the bottle. (See also: Package as Clothing)

My earliest memory of an embroidered alligator emblem was when my mother in the late 1950s or early 1960s created some counterfeit Lacoste shirts for my grandfather, my father, me & my little brother. This was motivated more by the alligator than the brand status, I think, since we lived in south Florida, not so far from the Everglades. (See also: Crocodile Boxes—Alligator Bags)

Still, my mother must have been aware that the Lacaoste alligator emblem was a self-proclaimed “status symbol.”

René Lacoste founded La Chemise Lacoste in 1933 with André Gillier, the owner and president of the largest French knitwear manufacturing firm at the time. They began to produce the revolutionary tennis shirt Lacoste had designed and worn on the tennis courts with the crocodile logo embroidered on the chest. Although the company claims this as the first example of a brand name appearing on the outside of an article of clothing, the “Jantzen girl” logo appeared on the outside of Jantzen Knitting Mills’ swimsuits as early as 1921. In addition to tennis shirts, Lacoste produced shirts for golf and sailing. In 1951, the company began to expand as it branched from “tennis white” and introduced color shirts. In 1952, the shirts were exported to the United States and advertised as “the status symbol of the competent sportsman,” influencing the clothing choices of the upper-class. Lacoste was sold at Brooks Brothers until the late 1960’s. It is still one of the most popular brands in the United States, sporting the “preppy wardrobe”.

from Wikipedia’s entry on history of Lacoste

Invariably, when packaging serves as a metaphor for clothing, a consumer naturally tends to anthopomorphize and even identify with the product contained.

(The advertising, after the fold...)

Laundry Label Bottles

A bit of trompe l’oeil, cross-category package design...

Stocks Taylor Benson’s shrink sleeve bottle labels for Morrisons laundry liquids (on left) emulate the standard “care instructions” woven label for garments (on right). Winner of a 2011 Pentaward.

(See also: Trompe l’Oeil Price Tags)

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Wooden Bottle Caps

Top, left: Kayla Langhans used wooden caps for her “Find” organic vodka design; top, right: a wooden cap for Espen Hansen’s A.O. Vinje GIN bottle (its box was featured in yesterday’s post); 2nd row, left: “Influence by Fruits & Passion” bottles with wooden caps, designed by Bertuch; 2nd row, center: Elizabeth Linde’s “Vertical for Men”; 2nd row, right: Le Cherche Midi’s bottle with wood cap (via: Lovely Package); 3rd row, left & center: Nasomatto’s fragrance bottles by Alessandro Gualtieri use a variety of wooden caps; 3rd row, right: Every Man Jack’s bottles feature faux wooden caps (via: Sustainable Is Good); 4th row, left: Moag Bailie’s Bio-Oraganic Almay bottles featured wooden caps; 5th row, left: Xtabentun Honey Liqueur bottle’s wooden cap; 5th row, right: wooden cap of TGTL’s olive oil bottle by NTGJ; bottom row: Casper Holden’s “Rawganical”

Following up on yesterday’s post, wooden bottle caps appear to be “trending” in “spirits” packaging and especially in package design for fragrances.

(One more photo, after the fold...)

Wooden Packaging

Top row: Anicka Yi and Maggie Peng’s cedar-encased fragrance bottles; 2nd row, left: Andrée Rouette’s ABCD veneer-covered maple syrup cans (via Packaging UQAM); 2nd row, right:  Espen Hansen’s veneer-covered AO Vinje gin box; 3rd row, left: Society27’s wooden shoebox; 3rd row, right & below: Léo Breton-Allaire’s spruce gum chewing gum concept (via: Packaging UQAM); 4th row left & below right: Maude Bussières’s detachable wooden pencils concept (via Packaging UQAM); 5th row, left: Debowa oak-encased vodka bottles; bottom row: Gerlinde Gruber’s wooden, puzzle-like jewelry box

Packages made of wood (See also: Wood Framed Bottles)

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Beach Glass Bottles

Two kinds:

1. Bottles with beach glass on the inside like the “Beach Glass Mix in an Old Milk Bottle” on the left from Rocknotes’ Etsy store. ($18.95)

2. Bottles with beach glass on the outside like the 2006 “Beach Glass 40 of Olde E” on the right by Mike Leavitt with beach glass glued to an Olde English 800 malt liquor bottle. (The label is painted on.)

(See also: 4 Cardboard Shoemakers and Beach Glass + Plastic Soup)

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Nozzle Necklaces

Upper left: Sterling silver “Spray Can Nozzle” pendant from Solitary Man ($255); upper right: Nozzle Necklace w/ Krylon logo cut out of a can by Jaymeer, 1997 (see also: Silver Nozzle); lower left:  Hand-made clogged nozzle necklace by Steven Jacobs ($15); lower right: Sterling silver “Tag’n Run” necklaces—with and without diamond from Red Sofa ($65)

Some packaging jewelry of a very specific type: necklaces made from spray paint can nozzles.

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Coca Cola’s Dripping Negative Space

On left: “liquidated” Coca Cola logo by Zevs; center: a recently discontinued Coke can; on right: Zoo’s package design for Rubén Álvarez yogurt.

The first time I saw the seasonal Coca Cola can above was from a distance of about 3 yards (2.75 m). I was in the back of the supermarket by the meat cases when I noticed some cans with what appeared to be dripping white frosting (or melting glacial ice?) on display in a Coca Cola end cap.

I left my shopping cart where it was and crossed over for a closer look. Not drips at all, but just the negative space behind some polar bears on a silver ridge.

Maybe I’m predisposed to seeing dripping graphics everywhere, but, even if this optical illusion is unintentional, a dripping white package does seem in keeping with Coca Cola’s frosty, cold gestalt. And, to my eyes, the white ink comes to the foreground and the silver metal of the can is the more natural background.

None of this matters much in the face of another negative controversy. The package design was intended to be part of Coke’s “cause marketing” effort to protect the polar bear, but this message is being overshadowed by the problem of diabetic consumer confusion.

“I purchased three six-packs because I thought they were diet,” Gail O’Donnell of Danvers, Massachusetts, told ABC News.

“I drank one and wondered why it tasted so good. I didn’t look at the can. … I am a diabetic and can only drink diet sodas. They need to make it so it is not confused.”

Coke and Diet Coke Cans Should Be Polar Opposites, Buyers Say

Coca Cola has therefore discontinued production of the white can, switching back to last year’s red version. So diabetics (like me) won’t get confused and drink regular, caloric Coke by mistake, screwing up their blood sugar.

Come to think of it, the red can looks a little like dripping blood.

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Entenmann’s Boxcar

Photos above and below by Rich Melvin

Licenced Entenmann’s/Lionel O gauge operating boxcar comes in an  Entenmann’s-style see-through pastry box:

“It is not often that a railroad club car¹ gives you a craving for sweets, but that is what happened when I saw the 2010 Lionel operating car from the Railroad Museum of Long Island (RMLI) in its authentic-looking white and blue Entenmann’s baked goods box...

This innovative box design was the brainchild of Bob Mintz, chief design engineer of the RMLI.”

Ed Boyle, How Sweet It Is
O Gauge Railroading, June-July 2011

(Another photo and a footnoted digression, after the fold...)

The Entenmann’s Box as Metaphor

The Entenmann’s box with the see-through window is sometimes used as a metaphor. Usually this has to do with ideas about tranparency. The Wacky Pack “Antenmann’s” parody sticker (on the left) compared the Entenmann’s see-through window to a window on an ant farm. The shrink-wrapped Entenmann’s box on the right is an advertising promotion: a deck of Entenmann’s box-shaped playing cards. Strange for playing cards to have a see-through window. If you’re playing cards, you generally want the hand you’re dealt to be for your eyes only. (See also: Wacky Packages and Playing Card Packs.)

1. Consumer
A 1996 remembrance by Wendy Wasserstein, about Martha Entenmann’s life is entitled, “She Saw Through Us.” By “us” she means Entenmann’s consumers so the metaphor is about Martha Entenmann’s early insight into our consumer behavior—that we customers were as transparent to her as the “see-through convertible bakery box top” that she invented.

2. Coffin
A character in F. Paul Wilson’s, The Tomb, while eating crumb cake, talks about wanting to be interred in an Entenmann’s box:

I’ve decided that after I’m cremated I want my ashes buried in an Entenmann’s box. Or if I’m not cremated, it should be a white, glass-topped coffin with blue lettering on the side.” He held up the cake box. “Just like this. Either way, I want to be interred on a grassy slope overlooking the Entenmann’s plant in Bay Shore.”

Another example of Entenmann’s box as coffin was found in these comments on a blog post about burying a pet parakeet:

I buried my budgie, Petey, in an empty Entenmann’s box . . . the cellophane window allowed for excellent viewing at the wake that we held for the neighborhood kids.

... Naturally, one would use the Entenmann’s box after consoling oneself with some tasty brownies, chocolate chip cookies, and/or cinnamon rolls.

3. “Believers” (and non-believers)
A sermon by Harold C. Warlick, Jr. entitled “People See Through Us” uses the same basic metaphor a Wendy Wasserstein—the “transparency” of people. Here, however, it is not about what Martha Entenmann sees in us, but how we look in God’s eyes...

Martha Entenmann invented the see-through cake box. Suddenly all manner of baked goods from pies to doughnuts began to arrive in see-through boxes with a proud blue Entenmann banner stamped on them. This caused those Entenmann baked goods to fill the shelves from New York to Miami.

As soon as the Christian church was organized as an institution, the letters and epistles of Paul and the epistle of James began to hammer home a message people did not want to hear. All believers and congregations are see-through to the world.  People see through us. They really do! There is a see-through box top that covers every congregation and every believer.

from Sermons on the Second Readings

Interestingly, the Entenmann’s box also plays a role in Foreskin’s Lament, Shalom Auslander’s novel of Orthodox Jewish life...

(The Entenmann’s box as “literature-of-last-resort” after the fold...)