It tastes terrible. Nobody enjoys drinking it. Yet, somehow, Jeppson’s Malört remains an irreplaceable staple of Chicago drinking culture.

Since beginning its life as a patent medicine and digestif during the 1920’s, Malört has been making drinkers grimace and wretch for nearly a century. Made with bitter wormwood according to a traditional Swedish recipe, the liquor is as tasty as varnish remover, and feels like it could strip paint from a house. In addition, the drink has gathered a reputation as the shot one takes before making regrettable decisions. 

But thanks to a hilarious, uncommonly honest marketing strategy, Malört has been able to capitalize on its more…unique properties, turning what would be problems for any other beverage brand into useful differentiators that ensure the liquor’s place in bars all over the Windy City.

“The Two-Fisted Liquor”

For decades, Malört has used its advertising and content to speak directly to how real drinkers perceive the brand, rather than trying to impose a tame, ego-boosting brand identity from above. An early ad, for instance, frames Malört as a direct “Challenge to the Braggart” who thinks he can handle even the harshest of liquors. The brand describes itself as “rough,” “harsh,” and even “improbable,” demanding “raw courage” of the person brave—or stupid—enough to try it.

While Malört has always been positioned as a tough drink for tough people, the brand truly began reaping the rewards of its foul reputation about nine years ago, when then-owner Patricia Gabelick made a bold and surprising decision…

If you can’t beat ‘em…

In 2012, Gabelick discovered that Sam Mechling, a local Chicago comedian, had been publicly bashing Malört on Facebook and Twitter—and selling unlicensed t-shirts based on his more popular posts.

Gabelick might’ve had grounds for legal action, and she certainly had every reason to be upset. But in a demonstration of rare marketing savvy, Gabelick saw in Mechling an opportunity to gain deep insight into Chicagoans’ true feelings about Malört, and better align the drink’s brand voice with their needs and expectations. So, rather than suing him into the ground, Gabelick actually hired Mechling to become the brand’s chief spokesperson, giving him free rein to promote the drink as he liked. The rest is regional marketing history.

“When you need to unfriend someone…in person.”

Since his arrival, the brand has doubled down on its own notoriety, publishing a series of posters and print ads that paint Malört as fuel for bad choices, and running an active Twitter account that re-tweets fans’ funniest descriptions of the beverage, along with photos of “Malört-face.” In other words, whenever Mechling sees an opportunity to make fun of the seedier parts of the Malört experience, he takes it.

Paradoxically, this laundry list of the drink’s many shortcomings has given the brand a large, loyal following, effectively turning this former stomach-ache cure into a recognizable part of day-to-day life in Chicago. The brand’s commitment to blunt, brutal honesty—and a willingness to be a bit vulnerable in front of consumers—give it a charm that is hard to resist. 

More importantly, by affirming what drinkers have always held to be true about Malört, rather than fighting it, the brand has become one of those rare purchases that people make not for enjoyment, but to indicate membership in a group. In other words, much like Harley-Davidson or Apple, Malört has successfully positioned itself as a brand that signifies certain qualities about the person using it. And a proud subset of Chicago’s drinking population eagerly buys Malört to signal their own sadomasochistic tendencies to other people.

The fact these qualities—pain tolerance, aggressiveness, lack of good taste, and so on—are far removed from what you’d find in a typical list of brand values is all part of the fun, and further cements Malört’s position as a drink set apart from other drinks. Like a surlier, harder-to-swallow Fireball whiskey, Malört is a tool that drinkers can use to send a message to themselves and everyone else at the table: For better—or, very likely, for worse—we will never forget this night.  

Let’s Be Real

Malört’s success is a lesson in how to deal with criticism like a marketing grandmaster. The next time you’re faced with a sassy customer, take a page from the Malört playbook and ask yourself what you can learn from the person who’s dunking on your company. 

Chances are, their unfiltered commentary might give you some uncommonly frank insight into how people really feel about your brand—and offer your organization an opportunity look great by showing grace, self-awareness, and maybe even a little humor in response.