And I’ll have a Coronarita
When things are cool precisely because they are so uncool.
and fashion go hand in hand. The world’s style capitals are also home to some of the world’s best bars. Fine champagne always flows, Roberto Cavalli has his own vodka, and Chivas Regal has teamed up with the likes of Vivienne Westwood, Christian Lacroix and the Savile Row Bespoke Association to produce wallet-emptying limited-edition bottles. Part of being fashionable is knowing where—and what— to drink. As someone who has only ever been fashionable by accident, I’m always more interested in things that become trendy in spite of themselves.
Hipsters, while generally associated with craft beer, were responsible for the rebirth of an uncool beverage: Pabst Blue Ribbon. What it lacked in flavour and overall quality, it made up for with authenticity and honesty. The PBR wave is slowly subsiding now, but it has left a desire to seek out unapologetically trashy drinks that come without airs. In the Tex-Mex and all-American casual restaurants of the world, I believe I’ve found its spiritual successor. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Coronarita.
Perhaps representative of the viral nature of so many things today, it’s hard to pinpoint the origin of the Coronarita. It seems to have emerged in the southern United States within the last decade and became popular at restaurant chains like Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, Chili’s Grill & Bar and Dave & Buster’s. How it was first made is anyone’s guess, but I’d say it has its roots in the love of boilermakers and bomb shots. That, or someone realised a simple lemon wedge wasn’t enough to make a Corona drinkable and proceeded to add an entire margarita to it. The combination works, though—a bland macrobrew and a frozen version of arguably the world’s most mainstream cocktail come together in a simple, tasty drink that’s greater than the sum of its parts. It is one of the few drinks that makes an al-fresco session in 35°C heat seem reasonable.
It’s hard work staying in tune with whatever’s in vogue, and just as any high-fashion icon secretly enjoys lounging around half-naked while eating ice cream straight from the tub, we owe it to ourselves to be sloppy once in a while. The Coronarita tells you it’s alright. You can watch that unforgivably bad movie for the 43rd time. You can eat a burger that should come with a Ministry of Health advisory. You can spend too much of your time following the ups and downs of the latest celebrity Twitter feud. You’ll be cool another day. But today, you’re getting sloshed on something that only exists for the sake of uninhibited fun.
When it comes to our generation’s contributions to the pantheon of great cocktails, a bottle of beer upturned in a tequila-spiked slushie is poetically appropriate. It’s not too much of a stretch to imagine the mixologists of the distant future serving up Coronaritas with the reverence currently reserved for old fashioneds and negronis. “Guilty pleasures,” they’ll say, “they never go out of style.”