Hoppy and Artificial Nostalgia

In an age where thirsty masses have abandoned Japan’s regal ales and lagers for fake brew happōshu and malty chemical concoction “third-category beer,” there should be no surprise that Hoppy — the Grandfather of Ersatz Beer — has made a triumphant comeback. Originally intended as a cheap substitute for beer amongst the Tokyo working classes in the immediate post-war, the bubbly beer-like soda is made “alcoholic” with an injection of Japan’s standby white liquor, shōchū. The resulting taste is as close to beer as carob is to chocolate, but not necessarily bad. It’s very refreshing in summertime and much lighter than a real beer. (I prefer the rich “Hoppy Black” since its flavor is strong enough to avoid being drowned out by the shōchū tang.)

Hoppy’s comeback has a few key lessons for the Japanese market:

1) Older inferior goods can be enjoyed in a new way when better substitutes arrive in the market. Hoppy is a classic “inferior good” — a product for which demand decreases when consumers’ incomes rise. In the 1960s and 1970s, Hoppy all but disappeared once economic growth allowed even the bottom of society to afford real beer. In today’s less buoyant economy, we again see the need for an inferior good in the beer market, and the more modern happōshu plays that role. Thanks to the powers of science and technology, happōshu tastes much closer to beer than Hoppy ever did. But this is a very good thing for Hoppy, since the “beer” experience has narrowed to a point where Hoppy can now be perceived as a totally distinct beverage — not just an “inferior” version of beer.

2) Japan has gone beyond “constant progress” and is now “reclaiming heritage.” From 1945 to the end of the Bubble, Japanese consumers were so obsessed with going “one rank up” year after year that no one took the time to look back at what they had abandoned. Who thinks about the joys of Suntory Old when you can afford Johnny Walker Black or Blue? These days, however, few still believe in the old narrative of constant economic growth, and many consumers are interested in other roles for consumption besides proof of affluence and adherence to international standards.

No longer in constant self-comparison to a mythically-wealthy and trendy West, the Japanese media and consumers now are digging deeper into the fertile cultural heritage of the own past. The Fifties rock’n’roll dancers of ’80s Harajuku used to be treated as badly-styled delinquents, but they are now perfect models for cigarette ads. In the same way, Hoppy has become a unique bit of Tokyo Showa culture to explore and re-appreciate.

3) Brands must go away to become reborn. This is true almost everywhere in the world. Even if brands have a rich history, they need to completely disappear from public consideration so that laggards and less desirable consumers do not still set the brand image. Otherwise, targeted groups will not be eager to associate themselves with the products. Hoppy’s descent into obscurity was a blessing in disguise: Without any well-known pre-existing consumer groups, Hoppy was able to completely invent a positive brand image of past drinking culture that fits into modern day consumers’ desires to reconnect to past tradition. Hoppy lets the public buy into the bygone glory of the (possibly imaginary) Showa laborers — the “poor” we were before economic growth.

4) Nostalgia does not have to reflect actual past experiences. Like dagashi (old-timey candy), Hoppy is often met with the Japanese expression, “Natsukashii!” — something like “I haven’t seen this in a long time!” but with an evocative, nostalgic longing underneath. Although most expressions of natsukashisa come from the remembrance of actual childhood experience, it is safe to say that almost all modern-day consumers of Hoppy never drank it in their younger days. But with a skillful branding that places the beverage in a setting of “Showa Japan,” users fall quickly into this artificial nostalgia.

Hoppy shows that brands grounded in unique tradition or colorful history can successfully evoke nostalgia without prior experience on the part of consumers. Moleskine did this with their “19th century” leather-bound notebooks — embracing a product narrative of famous painters and writers that may be partially fictional. Japan is full of historical brands with potential for this re-branding and explicit connection with past culture, and I hope that we see more Hoppies in the near future.

(For more information, see this Japan Times article on Hoppy’s management.)

This article originally appeared on the Diamond Agency blog clast.

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4 Responses to “Hoppy and Artificial Nostalgia”

  1. Glenn Mercer Says:

    I agree with all four points. A few comments: re #2, my guess is all societies do this once a certain level of material progress is achieved … the rate of getting to this point probably depends on how bad the recent past was. In the USA for example the revised VW Beetle was very popular (for a time) because we all remembered it as the “love Bug” (no Lohan jokes please), symbolic of the hippy era and psychedelia etc. In Germany it never sold well, in part because it reminded people of the austere days of rebuilding from WWII, when you bought a Beetle not because you wanted one, but because you could afford nothing else. Re #3: I wonder if the “time out” for a brand is shrinking now. I don’t know, but when I listen to US FM radio I hear “oldies” shows featuring hits of the 1990s….I wonder if in 2015 we’ll be hearkening back to those rosy days of … 2014? Re #4: I agree that one can have nostalgia not only for your own real past, but your own imagined past, and the past of others (check out Henry Ford’s mass falsification of his childhood in his museum in Detroit). However, once one starts doing this (that is, going beyond “I want Hoppy because I remember drinking it as a child and I want to taste it and feel like a child again”) the Authenticity Wars begin, because now the genuineness of the recalled experience is dependent on opinion and argument not fact. I had a talk with an REM fan recently that pointed this up: I was talking about missing the REM of incomprehensible lyrics, when Michael Stipe mumbled everything. I mentioned their debut studio album, Murmur (1983), and to my surprise the other person snapped “Hey, their best work was behind them by then,” and went on about unreleased studio tapes, etc. I had been Out Authenticked!

  2. W. David Marx Says:

    I wonder if the “time out” for a brand is shrinking now.

    I think it clearly is. The Nostalgia Needle seems to be pointing towards the early 90s now, so we have gone from a 25-year cycle seen in the 70s to a 20-year cycle seen in the 80s (think the late 80s neo-hippies) to now a 15-year cycle. This is not arbitrary: the adoption/abandonment time may be quicker so that things can come back in style. You can only have hipster appropriation of old things once everyone has forgotten them. Pearl Jam needs to break-up before we can have their “revival.”

  3. Adamu Says:

    When I walk around Yurakucho and see all the ramen stands etc under the train tracks with their Hoppy flags that were never there a few years ago I have to wonder if these places have been able to latch onto the “Showa nostalgia” trend to give the kind of grimy places frequented by construction workers or salarymen on the go a bit more of a cool factor.

    Also perhaps it would be more accurate to say “nostalgia doesnt have to be based on actual history” — by which I mean of course these people aren’t forgetting that they have never drank this before, but the marketing can make this seem like a revival of a much more significant product than it actually was. Going to those Showa bars definitely *feels* authentic

    And second the vote for more Hoppy-like innovative products, even if Hoppy itself isnt all that good (though I still need to try it the “right way”) — I love the old-timey Showa candy places for much the same reason I like the idea of Hoppy

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