Does the 40 oz Stanley Tumblr Make You Belong?
(Source: @KAITLINSONDAE/TIKTOK, @VICTORIA_ROBINO_26/TIKTOK)
You’ve been standing in a dark parking lot since midnight, chiding yourself for not having the foresight of those around you to have brought a camping chair so that you could save some of your strength for the frenzy that’s about to ensue. Though you were weary before, there is a renewed energy coursing through your veins as the mob that surrounds you allows their impatience to take over. It is 6:59 AM, and only one minute stands between you and your objective— the limited edition Target X Stanley Cup Valentines Day release. You’re not entirely sure why you’re drawn to the cup, there’s nothing particularly special that differentiates it from other Stanley Cups, other than the premier of a new color. But you’ve heard rumblings online that the label may be different, that the label may have a heart on it. Your breathing becomes heavier, you almost gasp as the seconds pass. 3… 2… 1… 7:00AM! A stampede, flashes of fluorescent lights and linoleum tiles, a rainbow of cups, pushing and shoving, the cash register, the r u s h… And finally, it’s over. You take a moment to relish in your success with your fellow Stanley stans. You have your cup, and through it, you’ve achieved the hallmark of hydration, the most formidable of fashion senses, and reached the highest form of self-actualization.
That’s a lot of weight for a 40 oz cup to carry, right? While we can’t be sure whether reusable water bottles are a passing trend in the fashion industry, this new category of accessory is not. These items are not things that one wears, per se, but rather something that one holds in their hands, carries on their shoulders, or stores inside of a cargo pocket. Who among us doesn’t know somebody who casually dropped 60-80 dollars on a new phone case that offers zero fall protection but has cool dragons or 8 balls designed on the outside of it?
Yoga mats have surely found their permanent home in the athleisure community and the majority of West LA residents who attended a yoga class once because they thought it would heal their inner child. English majors everywhere carry a pocket novel around, trying intensely to make eye contact with any stranger they can in the hopes that someone will ask them about it. When did it all begin, and where is it all going?
Beginning in the 90s, disposable water bottle brands like Fiji and Voss set out to create a market for bougie bottled water, capitalizing on a clientele obsessed with status signaling. These “classy” and “high end” bottled waters were a subtle way to communicate your financial status in a post Cold War America, when consumerism was synonymous with patriotism. The act of purchasing often and purchasing expensive was more important than the actual item purchased.
Therefore, targeted consumers didn’t care that both the Fiji and Kroger brands were being sold at the same supermarket, or even that the source of the water may be the same in both brands, because that has nothing to do with why they bought it. These “fancy” water bottles were a way to buy into a higher social status, and in turn find a community of other Fiji and Voss drinkers.
Eventually, the pendulum swung the other way, and it became incredibly untrendy to engage in anything disposable. Thus, the cult of the reusable water bottle was born (although let’s be clear, there’s nothing sustainable about owning ten variations on the same reusable object). Nalgene bottles for the outdoorsy woodfolk who hike to work, Hydroflasks for high school athletes and artists, Yetis for people who keep mall kiosks in business, and Stanley cups for… well… seemingly anybody and everybody. In yet another trend fueled by TikTok’s algorithm, the Stanley cup has taken over our nation, despite concerns that in rare cases drinking from a Stanley cup may result in lead poisoning. WaterTokers across the country sing the praises of the Stanley cup, assuring their viewers that it is the ultimate cup for their water and water flavoring concoctions that “certainly aren’t juice”, the cup to end all cups, the magnum cupus. To not have the cup is to not experience life itself.
The idea being pushed by these water influencers (a phrase that only late stage capitalism could force me to vomit up) is that more than a cup, it’s a statement. More than a statement, it’s a lifestyle. More than a lifestyle, it’s part of the minutiae of everyday life.
The Stanley cup accompanies you on your drive home, it purchases groceries with you, and it may even sign a down payment on a home with you. And if something goes everywhere with you, wouldn’t it be nice if it also matched your outfit? Made your shoes pop, your lipstick stand out? If it could be something that other water bottle community members recognized you by? It may seem like a far-out reality to the uninitiated, but there are thousands of people around the US, many of them children, who are purchasing Stanley cups in as many colors as possible so that they can build their outfits with the cup in mind.
As we continue to move forward in a world where we are both constantly perceived and constantly carrying more, these new accessories are a signal to others that we belong. Owning a Stanley cup is not just about owning a Stanley cup, it’s about reveling in the supposed greatness of the cup with other owners. It’s a conversation starter, an amuse bouche for social interaction that may find its ancestors in the Tamagotchi and the pocket dictionary. This cup, though, is lacking in personality, lacking in being a hobby or a skill or something that you can form a community around. If we engage in fashion and trends simply for status’ sake, are we being true to ourselves? Are we actually capable of knowing what we like deep inside, or are we conforming to our capitalist overlords who plan what colors we will wear this year and what snacks we’ll buy from Trader Joe’s? Can we actually achieve our goal of belonging if all we have in common with each other is a stainless steel cup?