The New Yorker has an interesting story on how good old Pabst Blue Ribbon is branding itself in China with references to being “matured in precious wooden casks.” They’re charging over $40 for one of those swanky bottles.
And I thought New York was the only place you could charge more than $3 for a PBR and even have the audacity to call it a happy hour special.
The deeper story here is the cachet that Western brands have in rising nations. The US may not have the political influence it once had, but we still wield considerable cultural and economic power through Disney, Coca-Cola, McDonald’s and, evidently, PBR.
(Hat tip to Jill N. for sending the story via mental_floss. I want to make it perfectly clear that I don’t read the New Yorker, and presumably neither does Jill. My borderline-hipster roommate does, but I think he loathes himself for it.)