DIRTY LAUNDRY’S Label shows steam rising from a hot iron in sexy, womanly curves because a gold-rush era laundry fronted for the local brothel.
Traditionally, wineries take their names from places or families, and
wine package designs take their cues from classic Italian and French
models. But how many classy wine bottles from Eagle Creek and
Caravaggio Cellars do we need? Most people can’t remember the
name of that wonderful Pinot Grigio they had last Saturday, not to
mention the Riesling uncle Billy brought for New Year’s Eve. The
names begin to mean nothing, and the designs just sit there looking
pretty.
Bernie Hadley-Beauregard thinks it’s better to create a conversation,
maybe even entertain wine drinkers with unexpected stories.
His company, Brandever, bases its designs on regional history,
local culture, or the defining characteristics of the owners. When
they find the right story, they express it through offbeat names
and nontraditional graphics.
Blasted Church is Brandever’s first baby. Looking around the
winery’s hometown, Okanagan Falls, they found a 108-year-old
church with an unusual past: It wasn’t built where it stands now,
but in an abandoned gold rush camp 16 miles away. As the old-timers
say, waste not, want not. The intrepid Okanagan pioneers
decided to take it apart, move it to town, and rebuild it for their
own use. They had the brilliant idea of loosening the nails by putting
four sticks of dynamite inside and setting off a controlled blast.
They lost the steeple in the explosion, but the church came apart
easily, the boards were loaded onto trucks, and Okanagan Falls got
a nice, secondhand church, presumably with low mileage (gold diggers
aren’t exactly known for their piety).
LAUGHING STOCK’S owners used profits from their financial business to buy the winery and packaged their wine with ticker-tape graphics.
Hadley-Beauregard loved this story, and named the winery
Blasted Church. The initial reaction wasn’t great. “Isn’t that kind
of blasphemous?” people would say. But it worked as a hook: That
question needed an answer, and the salesman or sommelier could
answer it. “No, it comes from a real story, and the church is still
standing. Back in 1929 … .” That’s the whole point of using a challenging
name. It starts conversations, and the stories that come
out are unforgettable. If you like the wine, you’ll remember the
name—especially compared to the original name, Prpich Hills.
When the current owners bought Prpich Hills in 2003, it was
floundering. In just three years with the name Blasted Church,
it has become one of the top three wineries in British Columbia’s
wine region, winning design awards and wine awards all over
North America.
The name and design got the wine the attention it deserved.
The charmingly spazzy illustrations, by Toronto artist Monika
Melnychuk, carry the story. Apart from a brief statement that the
name is based on local history, you get the story from expressive
period caricatures of the mining engineer with the dynamite, the
worried pastor, or a pair of amused sisters, with other story elements
on the back of the wraparound label, such as a truck carrying
a stained glass window. You’d have to see all 12 packages to
piece the story together, which not only lets the sommelier start a
conversation, it encourages wine-bibbers to collect all 12 bottles.