The soft-drink manufacturers got wise early, though I thought they were crazy. Water? How is that your next big thing? Have you not noticed taps pretty much everywhere? Plain water? In bottles? It’ll never sell. Not in countries with safe tap water. We have water already.
And now there’s an island of plastic bottles bigger than Texas wandering around the mid-Pacific. Okay, there isn’t. Not quite. No island. But there’s an awesome amount of plastic swirling around out there, and among all the billions of tiny pieces there are water bottles, and way too many of them. Whatever the shape or soup-like state of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, I could not have been more wrong about the potential market for bottled water. I would have guessed it would have been not much larger than the market for bottled air. (Bottled air, did you say? Why, yes, there’s a market for that too. Bottled Canadian and British countryside air is now selling well in Chinese cities …)
Look at the maths. At Brisbane residential prices, a cent buys you four litres of water. Entry level bottled water (own brand 24-pack supermarket water, for instance) comes in at a mere 188 times that. Buy the story of snow-capped peaks and pristine streams and it’s not hard to spend 2000 times what you’d pay for water from a tap.
When I was young (cue squeaky rocking chair), water was only consumed when combined with cordial, that perfect mix of sugar, artificial colouring and artificial flavouring. And when you outgrew cordial, if you drank water, it came from a tap. And if there wasn’t a tap, well, you waited until there was one. During which time you might get a little bit thirsty. In the developed world in the 21st century, mild transient thirst is practically a human rights violation.
There must always be water! On any table set up for a press conference or writers’ festival session: water. At any meeting: water. On any five-minute plane flight: water. Every child is pursued by a water bearer. Everyone who is momentarily between mouthfuls of water must have water available, just in case. A car is now a transport vehicle for humans and their water. I know ours is. At least I re-use the bottles.
It’s not that I’m against hydration, but it is all right – even survivable – to be more that five minutes away from your next fluid. Supermodel Wisdom tells us all our luminescence is owed to drinking eight glasses of water a day. Supermodel Wisdom also tells us there’s something sexy about transparent skin and once you get past your anger to your mother, you will begin to excel at volleyball. Being a supermodel in no way precludes genius, but the eight glasses thing is not typically advanced by supermodels with relevant science quals. So, where does it come from?
In 1945, the US Food and Nutrition Board of the National Research Council analysed the American diet and determined that that was a typical and functional amount taken in by Americans each day, in liquid form and also in food. Somehow that got skim-read, all the water in food got forgotten about and this morphed into a mandated eight glasses of water a day.
Now, don’t go thinking I don’t drink water. That I’m a wizened desiccated husk peeing kidney stones, bitter that I didn’t invest in water futures long ago. I do drink water, but I don’t count it as I go because life’s way too short and I don’t panic if my mouth is momentarily dry.
How about we ease up a little? How about we get over the idea that every human in countries with totally safe tap water has to carry water everywhere?
Alternatively, can I interest you in a litre or two of my eau de Brisbane? Water fallen on the semi-wild slopes of the nearby hinterland, filtered through nature’s own gravel (and, um, other things), and piped lovingly to my humble rustic cottage in the inner suburbs for bottling …
I’ll even draw you a picture of a frosty peak with a stream running from it, if you’d like a label.
(An earlier version of this piece appeared on Huffington Post Australia.)