Buzz
"This tastes terrible," said the caller.
In 1994, Coca-Cola launched a new product, OK Soda, and invited consumers to dial an 800 number to leave honest feedback about it. Even the negative comments were recorded. In stark contrast to Coca-Cola’s signature red cans, OK Soda’s packaging was in black and white, featuring alternative comic book art and cheeky slogans. Its flavor was equally unconventional.
OK Soda was marketed as the perfect drink for Generation X—seen by advertisers as disillusioned, anxious, and somewhat nihilistic. This persona was incorporated into the drink itself, as Coca-Cola aimed to break into the $3 billion teen soft drink market. But could that cynical audience really buy into the concept of ironic capitalism?
A Grunge to Endure
Coca-Cola had, of course, suffered a major branding blunder in 1985 when it introduced the infamous New Coke. Fans were quick to criticize the new taste and clamored for the return of Coca-Cola Classic.
In 1993, Coke made a daring decision to bring back Sergio Zyman, the executive behind New Coke, to lead another bold marketing campaign.
With OK Soda, Coke wasn’t replacing their classic product but rather adding a new option to their lineup. They reasoned that there was only one word more universally recognizable than Coke: OK. Their research indicated that young people between the ages of 12 and 25 were experiencing mass anxiety, and OK Soda would offer a form of cautious optimism. It wouldn’t make everything perfect, but it might help things feel just 'OK,' a concept that ad agency Wieden + Kennedy coined as 'OK-ness.'
The can design had to reflect the idea of restrained enthusiasm. When focus groups couldn’t settle on a favorite design, Coca-Cola opted to feature four different ones. One design came from comic book artist Daniel Clowes, whose graphic novel Ghost World later became a 2001 movie. Clowes’s can illustrated a teenager in multiple panels showing varying levels of angst.
"Don’t be tricked into thinking everything needs a reason," the can proclaimed. Other designs showcased artwork by Charles Burns, David Cowles, and Calef Brown.
"We’re attempting to capture the irony of their lives," Brian Lanahan, director of special projects for Coca-Cola, told *Time* in 1993. "What we’re illustrating with those symbols is someone who simply exists, and exists as just OK."
For Clowes, the challenge was staying true to his countercultural roots rather than fitting in. "I was fully aware that what they wanted to do was impossible: you can’t sell to cynical hipsters by being cynical and hipsterish," he told *Believer* in 2014. To emphasize his point, Clowes designed his can character to subtly resemble cult figure Charles Manson.
Canned Reaction
OK Soda was launched in eight test markets in the spring of 1994, including Boston and Seattle. It was less about being a new soft drink and more about being a marketing experiment in search of a flavor. Coca-Cola believed the irreverence would be a draw. The 800 number (800-I-Feel-OK) received voicemails from customers, which were then replayed. A chain letter was also circulated with the message: "Whatever your troubles, remember: Things are going to be OK."
(The campaign occasionally contradicted itself: "What’s the point of OK? What’s the point of anything?" one can read.)
Coca-Cola also took aim at the common trope of linking consumerism with happiness. It showcased strange coincidences that happened to OK Soda drinkers. "I started drinking OK two days after my boyfriend and I broke up, and ever since, bad things have happened to him," one caller said. "He even broke his leg. That’s pretty good."
While clever marketing plays a vital role, it couldn’t mask an essential flaw in the product. For OK Soda, that flaw was its recipe, which seemed as bleak as the ad campaign. The flavor was described as a mix of classic dark soda and lemon-lime, or what regional marketing director Annis Lyles summed up as combining all of Coke’s products into a single can.
This wasn’t exactly enticing. One caller referred to it as "carbonated tree sap." Others likened it to the disgusting, overly sugary mess that results from pushing all the buttons on a soda fountain at once.
By the fall of 1994, it was clear that OK Soda wasn’t living up to its name. Distributors began pulling it from shelves due to poor sales; one Minneapolis-area retailer told *The Washington Post* that he hadn’t sold a single 12-pack. By fall 1995, Coca-Cola decided to cut its losses. The soda had sold only 1 million cases, a dismal figure in the soft drink industry.
Gloom was definitely marketable in the 1990s, as grunge demonstrated. However, when it came to OK Soda, it wasn’t something anyone wanted bottled up in a can.
