“Wine is poetry.” –Atticus
Atticus is an anonymous poet with over 1.5 million followers on Instagram. Now he has dipped his toe into winemaking with help from the popular online wine club Winc. The collaboration brings us Lost Poet, a red wine blend from California.
The Lost Poet label is exquisitely minimal in stark black and crisp linen white. The two words of the name are composed in extreme contrast of size, weight and style. POET proclaims itself in a large, bold, condensed sans serif. LOST on the other hand is a mere whisper, rendered in a small, slight, serif typeface, randomly placed above its four letter counterpart. The quote above underlines both words and is signed, XX Atticus.
Speaking of lost—I have to admit I didn’t even notice this until I had an enlarged label image on my computer screen—blind embossed at the top of the label is “2018 Red Wine California.” Interesting design decision. Good? Bad? Or does it matter? Clearly the aesthetic is less is more.
“Don’t be scared to change the prince’s name in your story.” Another Atticus quote descends the back label in seven lines of no more than two words each, surrounded be a sea of white space. All the remaining information requirements are pushed the left edge. Almost lost from view. The type is set like the credits on a movie poster in extremely condensed type. Also notable is that the wine information runs vertically down the label. The government warnings run up. Even the barcode reads sideways.
If you don’t enjoy poetry you may still enjoy this wine. The blend is smooth and soft with flavours of plums. It suits many moods. As Atticus says, “Wine is poetry and so is life. So drink on. And live on. And write yours richly.”
Lost Poet is a brilliant piece of branding. Born of the whim of a poet, it is sure to connect with people who appreciate and contribute to this literary craft. Lost Poet entices from the label like the title on a book cover. Pick me up. Take me home. Enjoy bold thoughts in quiet moments.
What do you think? Post your comments below.
