Tag Archives: coca-cola clothing


“I’m in the ’88 Candidates, paisley’d out, in them Coca-Cola rugbys, two bitches, with a front in my mouth” Ghostface Killah, ‘Wicked With Lead’

Tomorrow marks the first anniversary of Heavy D’s untimely passing, so, given his early association with Coca-Cola clothing, it felt right to look at the origins of that brief craze for sugary liquids repped on rugby shirts as a tribute to the big man. Salutes to Simone for reminding me of the Coca-Cola vest sighting in ‘Paris is Burning’ too. With the Brazilian Coca-Cola Clothing company pushing some high-end catwalk looks that are a long way from the brand’s 1980s clothing output, they’re still pushing their brand from beverage to wardrobe item, striving to be more than a promo item sent in exchange for a fistful of pull tabs, but there’s only one moment in time when Coca-Cola apparel felt right, and given that the original recipe contained coca leaf, they’re not the only clothing brand to have been founded on yayo money either.

Coca-Cola gear, alongside Benetton (seriously, why hasn’t that brand capitalised on its rugby shirts and glasses and their role in street style?), is a curious moment in style that’s not explored enough. There’d been plenty of Coca-Cola merchandise; promo tees, hats and plenty motor, but nothing that you wouldn’t pass onto an elderly relative or only wear wash the car in. In the early 1970s, they made some even more curious sartorial decisions like afro wigs (with a styrofoam head form and vinyl case) for $8 with proof of purchase and $2.98 beach pants (which are actually kind of excellent). None of it was a particularly serious proposition.

In 1985, Mohan Murijani’s Murijani Corporation (responsible for the Gloria Vanderbilt denim line) unleashed the fruits of their licensing deal with Coca-Cola — a full collection of clothing that made no secret of the brand affiliation, screaming it across apparel and bearing the familiar colours. The head designer was one Tommy Hilfiger — the Murijani corporation was a backer of the new Tommy Hilfiger signature line after Tommy’s tenure at Jordache, and it launched around the same time as Coca-Cola apparel did. In the early 1990s, bold rugby shirts bearing Tommy’s name rather than a soft drink would become a hip-hop staple.

There was no soft (drink) launch here — Coca-Cola arrived as a fashion line with shirts, jeans and plenty more, but the hats, rugbys and sweatshirts seemed to sell the most units. “Coming soon to a body near you” “It’s popping yellow” and “It’s bubbling blue” were the teaser taglines on Peter Max illustrated ads (Max was a frequent Coca-Cola collaborator, but he also worked on a famous 7 Up campaign — a drink owned by arch rivals PepsiCo outside the U.S.) and to buy the clothes at the Fizzazz Columbus and 73rd Coca-Cola Clothes shop buyers chose their clothes on a monitor from “videodiscs” then had their clothes delivered by conveyor belt.

If the description of the flagship Fizazz store setup isn’t the most ’80s thing you’ve ever heard, you obviously never caught the launch promo for Coca-Cola Clothes — a music video for a singer called Barbara Hyde, who disappeared as quickly as she arrived, called ‘Creatures of Habit,’ which acted as an ad for the brand. It was recently taken down from YouTube, but it’s directed by the man behind Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram’s ‘Somewhere Out There’ (shouts to Fievel the mouse) and is the most 1985 thing you can possibly imagine.

Despite plans for over 50 Fizzazz stores globally, that rollout never happened, but a Tokyo store opened in late 1987, with smaller sized gear for the Japanese market. A Fizzazz opened on London’s Oxford Street too. Strong sales were reported and in 1986, Apple attempted a similar line (complete with Patagonia and North Face collaborations) that bellyflopped. By the end of the 1980s, after craze status for several years, Coca-Cola Clothes went flat.

The Coca-Cola Clothing venture should have been a laughing-stock — a relic of an excessive time, but that visual excess and pop cultural blend (are we allowed to use Warholian, or has that term been revoked due to lazy use in every A$AP Rocky broadsheet feature ever?) was undisputedly hip-hop, worn in the ‘Mr Big Shot’ video by perennial early adopter Heavy D and his crew and operating in tandem with the explosion of Polo at street level — the Puba-esque uniform of a block coloured rugby and blue denim spent several years as a rap video staple. Coke on the streets and Coke on cotton too. The brand also gave Tommy his break too. It’s a story of enterprising branding and a new approach to retail (shades of Apple Store to the experiential aspect) — that late 1990’s relaunch as Coca-Cola Ware doesn’t count.

Here’s to athletic-themed apparel based on a soft drink with vegetable extracts.

NB: As a sidenote, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, given the brand rivalry, but Pepsi attempted to launch a Pepsi clothing line in 1987 that wasn’t nearly as good as Coca-Cola’s apparel output.


“Go read a book you illiterate son of a bitch and step up yo’ vocab.”

Having lived my life vicariously via the rap media for roughly two decades, I’ve developed that curious habit of picking up any tome with a vague mention of hip-hop culture. The result? Shelves heaving with hardback and paperback rap-related literature. I don’t regret a single purchase, but the good quality ratio is deeply askew. I respect Toop’s ‘Rap Attack’ but it’s a little dry and dated (and yes, I picked up versions 1, 2 and 3 for those extra chapters) and favour ‘Spraycan Art’ over ‘Subway Art,’ simply because I read it first and MODE 2 is that dude. My personal favourites are the dirt-digging drama of Ronin Ro’s possibly semi-fictional (who Brian Cross aka. B+ called, “a clown” on these very pages) ‘Have Gun Will Travel’ and ‘Gangsta,’ the aforementioned Mr. Cross’s ‘It’s Not About a Salary,’ ‘Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop’ by Jeff Chang, Brian Coleman’s ‘Rakim Told Me’ and ‘Check the Technique,’ both ‘Ego Trip…’ tomes, Cheo H. Coker’s ‘Unbelievable’ Biggie bio and now Dan Charnas’ ‘The Big Payback.’

There’s been histories of hip-hop, but who wants to hear some half-baked tale of gang violence quelled by dancing, the Sugarhill Gang, Run-DMC and other second, third and quadruple-hand smoke? The good stuff happened behind-the-scenes. To reinforce earlier sentiments, this is the best history of hip-hop ever written. The industry’s in flux now—Elliott Wilson at ‘Respect’ and Combat Jack at ‘The Source’s online operation are a reason to be optimistic. ‘Complex’ is bridging multiple gaps too. But as long as reaction videos and Twitter quotes are the norm, rap journalism won’t reach those Mind Squad glory days. Charnas creates a vast patchwork that cleverly overlaps each anecdote, resulting in perfectly pitched trivia.

Rap fans are hardcore gossips, and this’ll sate that appetite in some style, but those looking for superior writing, research and total enlightenment will be rewarded too. It’s a huge story of marketing, risks and exploitation, and the 600+ pages here ensure that Charnas has space to keep it thoro’ but it never turns arrid despite that phenomenal attention-to-detail. If Stacy Gueraseva’s fine ‘Def Jam Inc.’ whetted your appetite for smart writing, myth busting and information overload, Don just took it to the next level. Hyperbole? Yes. But it’s justified hyperbole.

Crucially—as rap marketing evolves digitally but critique dumbs down to a sizzurp crawl where four decades of painstaking progress and broken ground is written off by stoned YouTube commentators as being Freemasonry—we need a comprehensive history to piece together just how powerful hip-hop culture became. Magazine heads in particular will spontaneously combust at the tales of Shector and Mays’ meeting of minds (Charnas was an early Source scribe) and the trash-talking early days of ‘Vibe.’ It’s nice to see hip-hop get the book it always deserved. Those four years this book spent in development certainly weren’t wasted.

Here’s my ten favourite things I learnt from ‘The Big Payback’ (there’s much, much more where these came from)—

1. T La Rock worked in a pharmacy.

2. Ann Carli thought that Lyor Cohen was handicapped because he was “lumbering” and sounded like he had a speech impediment, thanks to his USA/Israel upbringing.

3. Russell Simmons dismissed any notion of Will Smith being the next Eddie Murphy in 1988 by announcing that, “He might be as big as Malcolm Jamal Warner.”

4. The adult film star that Rick Rubin dated was Melissa Melendez.

5. Kangol Kid from UTFO recorded a message on Jon Shecter’s parents’ answering machine with the lyrics, “Jon and Jane went to get a snack / But if you leave a message, they’ll call you right back / Take it from me, the leader of the pack.”

6. Ed Lover used to be a security guard. The initial ‘YO!…’ gig payed marginally more than he was getting each fortnight.

7. Timberland’s chief executive officer really did tell the New York Times that the urban market for their product was miniscule and that the target market was “honest working people.”

8. Phil Knight was one of SRC’s (Steve Rifkind Company) earliest clients, after recruiting them for the Chilly Tee release in 1993. He invited Rifkind and some of the crew to Beaverton and they learnt about global marketing from Nike’s team to add to their street marketing savvy.

9. Oliver Grant from Wu Tang aka. Power was integral to the birth and growth of Wu Wear. He wore a full Coca-Cola outfit accompanied by Barkley Nikes (Alpha Force IIs?) to woodworking class and got glue all over it. Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter was in the same class that day.

10. As part of a genius Chris Lighty-assisted move, 50 Cent’s ‘Formula 50’ Vitaminwater flavour is based on grape “quarter waters”—hence his ‘I Get Money’ brag, “I took quarter-water, sold it in bottles for two bucks.”