“Our tea, our way”: Irony, an Aussie’s way

by Helena Rosebery

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxMTlpYjh-8

Bushells Tea is more than your average leaves in a bag.  It is a brand that epitomises mainstream tastes, as well as the Australian culture (that’s in my blood). Bushells’ most recent television advertisement, “Ugly Mug,” is an example of a transformation that occurs everyday in our society, where cultural quirks are adopted into branding, making the item more than just something of utility, but also a product of popular culture. Humour and irony are the overriding techniques used by the brand to appeal to Aussie consumers like me, because we are internationally renown for our self-deprecating and relaxed nature. The drinking habits in “Ugly Mug” are a way of differentiating Australians from the British, who were the forbearers of our tea tradition. Thus, the slogan, “our tea, our way” is a way of legitimising Australian culture.

Brands “work through culture,”[i] and so, it makes sense that when a culture changes, branding will evolve in a correlating fashion. Though this is not the focus of the essay, it is possible to diachronically trace the development of Australian political views towards its motherland, Britain, via the nationalist discourses that Bushells has invoked since its 1883 founding.

Initially, I wondered how the convict class of Britain came to develop a taste for tea? In one of her many studies of Bushells, a fellow tea-loving Australian, Susie Khamis, traced its origins back to King Charles II,[ii] who adopted it along with the rest of his Portuguese wife’s dowry. It became the newest “social cachet” in the royal court and in the 18th century, the status symbol had trickled down to the lower echelons. Its accessibility had increased, thanks to the East India Company who monopolised the tea trade, which in turn, prompted its appearance on the black market.[iii] When the lower classes were sent to their island gaol, they “mourned its absence.”[iv] It can be safely assumed then, that tea had become a beverage for the masses, including criminals from whence my very own forebearers came. From its formation, Bushells distinguished itself through quality and associated itself with the idea of middle-class refinement.[v] In fact, Australia was such a large consumer of tea, that in 1929, it was “the world’s premier tea-dinking nation.”[vi]

During the Great Depression, the brand knowingly changed its rhetoric to one of thrift and frugality, and targeted a particular female consumer: “the paragon of household efficiency.”[vii] Rather than relying on imported goods, there was a rediscovery of the land and bush life, the latter, which is unique to Australia. Over time the bush has come to connote the peculiar psychology of Australians, mythologised in the resourceful ‘bush man’.

The 1950s was a period of growing affluence and growing product choice: “a cultural shift away from British prudence to American consumerism.”[viii]  “Ugly Mug” is a testimony to Australia’s continuing plight to distance itself from Britain. Nationalist discourses are still evoked, but ones that are à la Aussie. Khamis writes:  “contemporary globalization has tended to sharpen expressions of collective unity and cultural distinctiveness.”[ix] We are all driven by a need to define ourselves as unique, yet at the same time, we also yearn to belong. An Aussie sipping Bushells is not solely consuming tea but validating their identity with a lump of cultural-capital. As a signifier, a tea bag falls in the realms of the ordinary, but that is the aim, to be your average bush-battler; McCann Erikson, the advertising agency, was hired for this very reason, of “reconnecting” the brand to the target consumer.[x]

A close analysis of “Ugly mug” reveals that the branding is in line with the dominant view of our Aussie culture, that is, a culture of self-deprecating, ironic rebels. We were convicts. On the website, Bushells proclaims the television spot “a corker.” The Oxford English Dictionary defines the noun as “a person or thing of surpassing size or excellence; a stunner; also used ironically, colloquially and [in] dialogue.” This one term encompasses the rhetoric of the entire advertisement: Bushells surpasses the excellence of all other teas, thus claiming cultural legitimacy. Irony is also imbedded into the advertisement: tactical branding to encourage consumer identification.

Stereotypical images such as the bush-as-backyard, verandah, and rocking chair are used in the advertisement to evoke sentimentality. These images connect to the general nostalgia surrounding the bush. I, myself, can recount two of the three objects from my childhood, and can remember a ballad chorus, “Home amongst the gum trees,” in which they appear.[xi] In the beginning, Bushells distanced itself from the nostalgic, which was a marketing tool employed by other brands; it prided itself on quality instead, with by-lines such as “Flavour is more important than price.” However, when the multinational corporation Unilever bought it in the 1990s, the majority of ‘true’ Australian brands evolved an element of sentimentality.[xii]

Bushells is committed to the wellbeing of the Australian community, and to commensality in general. For more than a decade, it has been the key sponsor of the Driver Reviver scheme that promotes safe driving with frequent stops for the driver to refresh over a cup of Bushells that are offered freely by volunteers. I have utilised such pit stops in my time, and although they vary – as they are hosted by the locals – they are all informal. Whether it is 2am or 2pm, you are welcomed into a hub of commensality where most share their stories of adventure. The Driver Reviver scheme is depicted in the first scene of “Ugly Mug,” and what is also noteworthy, in every instance where tea is consumed, there is a jovial group gathering. The result, wherever there is Bushells, conviviality and community exists.

Three young women pause at a Driver Reviver stop and mingle with fellow drivers over a refreshing cup of tea. The Driver Reviver station is in fact a campervan, and connotes the Australian spirit of adventure, a typically retiree tradition on four-wheels. The three young women, blonde, tanned, and long-limbed, which alas, I am not, are the babes stereotypical of the beach, who sip their tea from paper cups, carefree and unbound by tradition. Unlike the English who traditionally sit indoors and hold their cups with pinkies extended, the women are sprawled on the bonnet of their car. Bushells makes you carefree.

The backdrop also connotes freedom with endless power lines, rolling hills, and a sweeping expanse of sky. The tea is handed out by the maternal hand of a woman, anchoring the tradition of tea drinking back to one of comfort and family, even when amongst strangers.

The next scene is of a boy bringing tea to his parents. The tea facilitates their family moment on the verandah, and they sit, happy and comfortable, with the bush as a backdrop. They represent the typical Aussie family with a love of the outdoors, and a father who loves his sports (his tea cup is reminiscent of a black and white football), wife, and children. Cut to a new scene, drinking tea in the office kitchen. The environment is jolly, and colleagues connect over tea and humour. The final scene is that of an adult group of friends who relax in a light-filled room with views of the bush and ocean. Instead of sitting around a campfire, they sit in front of an unlit fire. Fire is not needed because the tea and company of each other provides more than enough warmth (cue collective sigh).

The humour of the advertisement comes from the subversive visuals that disavow the voice over of a clipped English speaker, reminiscent to the Queen, which tries to enforce British traditions of tea drinking.

(1) When taking tea, one should always drink from the finest china.

(2) The teacup should be adorned with tasteful applique, so as to paint the host in a positive light.

(3) And remember the inscription will confirm its quality.

(4) Bushels tea, our tea, our way.

In each scene, each piece of etiquette is contradicted by the action. I must admit that once or twice I may have stuck my pinky out, in ridicule of course.

The finest china is undercut with the girls drinking from paper cups and the son presenting his mother with a hand-made red mug, a.k.a. the Ugly Mug. Bushells affirms here, that the finest china is that with character and, made with love. Amongst her colleagues, a woman drinks from a comic mug with a bulbous nose painted on it. This directly violates the rule that a teacup should be tastefully adorned. But really, how often has quirky mug been the much-needed conversation starter with that awkward work mate?  In the final scene of camaraderie, “the inscription will confirm its quality” is juxtaposed with a man gulping down tea with an inscription on the bottom stating ‘Fill ‘er Up.’ The written vernacular once again undercuts the spoken words, thus signifying that Australian’s are not concerned about quality china or class distinction, for that matter.

To further the irony and stimulate emotions, music is also employed. Initially, the female voice is accompanied by a French horn, but as the etiquette is continuously disobeyed, the music crescendos into a march-like beat with the addition of strings, a snare drum, and an operatic choir of voices. We Aussies, as subjects of her Majesty, should obey the call to arms, and yet, we rebel. Suddenly, the record is scratched off the player. Silenced. The voice over is then taken over by the relaxed tones of a true blue bloke, accompanied by twang of a single guitar.

A short comparison to a Bushells advert way before my time (the 1980s), reveals how much the branding has changed in 30 years. The kitsch, iconic Kookaburra acts as a bush wake-up call, and music blasts, “Good morning, this is Australia” (A song written by Australian singer/songwriter John Farnham). A telephone operator sits in front of her switchboard, and wakes up over a morning tea. A mother perches royally in a purple bathrobe on the front porch in a rocking chair, morning sunlight, and tea soothing her for the day ahead. Two young bronzed surf lifesavers, with zinc on their noses perch against a shed and “cheers” their mugs of tea. It becomes apparent that this earlier advertisement uses nationalistic symbols to overtly display its Australianness: the Australian flag is embossed on the switchboard operator’s cup, the mother sips from a cup with a Kookaburra on it and, the boys drink from red and yellow mugs that are symbolic of the heroic masculinity that lifesavers are representative of. Perhaps such overt symbols of Australiana are used to counter the ‘British’ traditions, specifically the tea etiquette, which is still followed at this time. Spliced throughout, are shots of cups and saucers with warm tea flowing into them from a teapot. At all times, a cup is in the company of a saucer, with a teaspoon in place; even the lifesavers hold the mug on the holder rather than cradling it in their hands like the girls do in the “Ugly Mug” advertisement. The voice over too, is much more enunciated, and verging on British.

The Australia portrayed in the 1980s ad, is very much like a teenager who tries to distance itself from the motherland through a process of individuation. It flaunts its flag and stereotypical bush motifs and yet, it is still entirely reliant on Britain. The “Ugly Mug”, on the other hand, does not rely on overt symbolism, but demonstrates its Australianness in the form, by creating irony through the contradiction of the visual to the music and voice over.

Advertising is a spring for cultural expression in which ordinary items, like tea, are extended into items of pop culture. With close analysis, it is possible to discern the development, even maturity, of a brands identity. Bushells holds tight to the notion that it is the Australian people’s tea, and it does this by employing pop singers of the time (John Farnham) and humour that Australians can identify with. Bushells at this point in time, markets itself through nostalgic notions of the bush, mateship, humour, and the explorer, yet eventually this too angle will be tired out. One thing is for certain, however, irony will never get old. On that note, it is worth mentioning that this was not written in my motherland but during a brief stint in Bristol, UK.