PROBLEMS IN PARADISE
Why do we covet the image of island isolation?
Escaping to the warm sun and white sands of a desert island is an oft-repeated trope in the realms of relaxation and recuperation.
Despite the fact that islands are often associated with significant physical and mental anguish in popular culture (ask Tom Hanks in Castaway, Daniel Defoe’s unlucky protagonist Robinson Crusoe, or anyone who’s taken part in The Island with Bear Grylls), western society perpetuates the belief that spending time on a peaceful rock in the middle of the ocean, unencumbered by the strains and stresses of modern life, will help to restore balance to even the most troubled soul.
Travel operators tell us we should seek sun, sea and sand in any prospective holiday destination; beauty brands picture farflung tropical paradises to showcase the simultaneously relaxing and invigorating power of their products; and drinks companies, too, have utilised the connotations of the island escape – relaxing with an ice-cold bottle of beer during a picnic on the beach, for example – to attract consumers.
While there are spirits that appeal to the wilder side of one’s personality in their marketing, many (particularly once you hit the premium end of the market) depict a much more leisurely and peaceful kind of enjoyment. Take Whitley Neill’s 2021 television advertising campaign: in this, the lead actor moved languidly between colourful frames that depicted various gins from the London distiller’s range being enjoyed in settings that were, on the whole, peaceful and mature.
But let’s come back to the desert island for a moment. Our sister publication, Whisky Magazine, has for years been casting whisky folk away to its very own desert island, asking which drams they would bring along on their getaway (or enforced isolation, depending on how you look at it). Invariably, these are whiskies that the drinkers not only have a personal connection to, but that deserve to be savoured: limited editions the like of which may never been seen again; singlecask whiskies that captured a particular snapshot of a distillery’s character; a rare release enjoyed in the company of those who helped to make it, or who could help instil a greater sense of appreciation. They are certainly not drinks to be quaffed (although, personally, I’d rather have a tall, quaffable gin and tonic on a hot beach).
The enduring popularity of the desert island fantasy in the western mind is likely linked to the way that modern society is structured, and the pace at which many choose to, or have to, live their lives. In those circumstances, the thought of being cut off from society and our many forms of communication starts to feel like something you could relish (at least for a day or two).
But, as a colleague of mine has often reminded us after a difficult deadline has passed, no one is an island. People are not designed to be disconnected for long periods of time. We are a social species and our best achievements are made in groups: Neil Armstrong didn’t put himself on the moon, nor did Emmeline Pankhurst single-handedly get British
women the right to vote.
We are a social species and our best achievements are made in groups
And no one can make a gin alone, either. From start to finish, it is a painstaking process to ensure that every intricately shaped cog is precisely aligned and correctly functioning. Recent global circumstances have made this process more treacherous and prone to upset. However, with the support of their communities, the world’s gin distillers persevere – not just in their own work, but in supporting others’ too. (That isolated desert island is starting to lose a bit of its shine now, isn’t it?)
However, given the challenging nature of making a good gin, it’s right that we take a moment of paradisal peace and tranquillity to enjoy them. With something that took so long to create and involved so much hard graft – from the farmer who harvested the wheat, to the person who carefully affixed the label on the bottle – the least we can do is carve out a little blissful moment in which to properly appreciate it.