What is it about a shiny can that says, take me, buy me, drink me, now? I'm not a fan of fizz, excepting the bubbly stuff touted at weddings and produced to commiserate for birthdays, so have no particular desire to drink 30cl of chemically enhanced liquid.
Yet, time and again when I'm paying for fuel, calling in at a corner shop to buy a paper or a gallon of milk; rows of shiny cans will wink at me, daring me to walk past without opening the front of their display unit. Plastic bottles don't cut the mustard, they can jump up and down and proclaim their wares all they like, couldn't be less interested. I will stop for glass bottles, frosted with cold condensation; their shape determined by a male designer years ago, but appealing to me because of their aesthetic shape and hints of childhood days bathed in perpetual sunshine; yet even these I can look at admiringly and walk past.
So I conclude that I must just be a sucker for shiny metal that tells me a cold refreshing beverage, lower in fat and sugar content than the alternative cafe latte, needs me to reach into that refrigeration unit now. On several days of the week my car holds three-quarter full cans, warming and slowly losing their sparkle as I am reminded three sips in, that I'm really not a fan of the contents. Well done that marketing team!
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