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Alcohol-the evergreen accessory.

My sister sent me a screenshot of a dress she found on Amazon, not because she was particularly taken with the square neckline or army green color, but because the model was holding a glass of wine in the photo. We initially had a good laugh and I said the target buyer was “Midday Rosé Barbie.” Really though, what exactly was that conversation like on set? Did the photographer just really think what the garment was missing was a little vino? Did the stylist have the vision of a green garden goddess who sips wine while she harvests her fresh dill and cucumbers to make an organic tzatziki sauce? Maybe the designer of the dress has a promotional campaign in the works with the latest celebrity booze line. Either way, I couldn’t help but think that this was another glaringly obvious example of “Alcohol-The Evergreen Accessory.”

Women are sold all sorts of gadgets and gizmos (Ariel tried to tell us) and shiny trinkets as a means to fit in, belong, and generally feel better about ourselves. You can’t watch a television show or Youtube video without an ad for perfume or skincare or designer sunglasses. Social media platforms have become glorified shopping malls, open 24/7, feeding off the frenzy of comparison and insecurity. Everywhere we look we are told we need more to hate ourselves less. America’s addiction to consumerism is nothing new but it wasn’t until I got sober that I started to recognize that it wasn’t only overpriced stilettos and aviator shades that the culture had convinced me I needed. Next to every airbrushed, taut creature selling me her latest makeup routine and each unreasonably relaxed beauty lounging in her new outdoor patio furniture was the real selling feature-her martini glass.

It’s said that an effective marketing campaign doesn’t just sell you a product, it sells you a lifestyle. Was I unknowingly buying the notion that no moment or online purchase was complete without a cocktail? I’ll save the conspiracy theories and “indoctrinated inebriation” hunch for a different post, but we can’t ignore the fact that every time we are shown an example of aspirational womanhood she’s holding a glass or keeping a bottle nearby. It’s no different in television or cinema. When the female lead is experiencing heartbreak, rushing to meet an unreasonable deadline, or performing a high stakes mission in a war torn land she has her trusty salve on standby. It’s the reliable, relatable, universally understood and accepted line, “I need a drink.” The all-season, never goes out of style, always the answer, earned and hard won reward for a hard day-the sauce.

It’s a tired narrative if you ask me. I’m bored of seeing “margaritas with the girls” as the only way to get over a shitty boyfriend or celebrate a promotion at the company. For once I’d like to see someone get dumped, hit a yoga class, go home and put the kettle on, and then write a searing op-ed on the death of chivalry and devotion. Why is self destruction painted as female empowerment? Why are Amazon models holding wine when they’re supposed to be selling dresses? A nice clutch would have sufficed.

While I strongly believe the alcohol industry especially targets women, men also feel the pressure to drink up. The message is always this, “You are a man. You are the most important variation of your species. You’ve been so busy making all the money and lifting all the weights and making all the rules. You deserve a drink.” Just turn on the game next Sunday afternoon, you’ll see no less than fifty commercials selling light beer as a means to kick back and relax after a long week of world domination and mountain biking. The pressure for men to keep a drink in hand at the tailgate party and office-sponsored happy hour is exacerbated by the onslaught of onscreen images suggesting that women find half inebriated, totally toxic displays of masculinity irresistible. (Spoiler alert: we don’t.)

The danger in seeing high achieving characters in film and television lean on a bottle of red or a four-finger-pour of scotch at the end of a hard day is that it suggests drinking alcohol is the “normal” way to cope with the stress that accompanies success and power. The message is, “This is what it looks like to be on top.” While using alcohol as a coping mechanism is certainly “common,” it isn’t “normal” if we are using current medical guidelines. The World Health Organization released a statement at the beginning of 2023 that “No amount of alcohol is safe for our health,” citing that, “Alcohol is a toxic, psychoactive, and dependence-producing substance that has been classified as a Group 1 carcinogen.” Why are we being sold garden party dresses, patio furniture, dark chocolate bars, sportsmanship, and career advancement with a side of Group 1 carcinogen?

The message is that the new dress or perfect outdoor space or 70% cacao or game-winning touchdown or new job will make you happier, but not happy enough that you won’t need to wash it down with something a little stronger to forget that you’re still the same person, just now with a better Instagram aesthetic and fatter bank account.

Most tv dramas about busy law offices or emergency rooms could just as well be described as a study in binge drinking and poor coping strategies. Perform a controversial and dangerous heart transplant operation? Drink! Go up against a billion dollar corporation in court for a class action group demanding justice? Drink 10! The higher the stakes the heavier the pour. The deeper the pockets the classier the scene. Funny thing is that when we see a downtrodden minimum wage worker swig something from a flask in the middle of their shift we know we ought to feel that something is wrong, that they are battling a demon within them and headed for a hard bottom. Yet, when a couple of high-powered attorneys crack open a bottle of scotch at noon to celebrate a new partner we sigh and dream of what it must be like to rule the world.

When I polled my Instagram audience, 65% of them admitted that before they became sober/sober-curious they viewed alcohol as “glamorous.” Some Instagram friends messaged me that they felt “classier and high brow” at events and parties if they were holding the right beverage. Martinis elicited a Carrie Bradshaw-esque sophistication and sense of female empowerment while a perfectly crafted old fashioned made them feel like a mover and shaker from a bygone era of dealmaking and political swashbuckling. They conceded, however, that drinking the same beverages alone during times of distress or personal struggle did not evoke the same sentiments. One follower noted that often times she’d sit on her couch in the evenings pouring herself an “Olivia Pope sized red” and wonder why she wasn’t finding respite and relief like the character from her favorite show. The gig was up as soon as the party ended and the fancy suit came off, the buzz quickly wore off and instead of satisfaction they’d find regret and self-loathing waiting for them in the morning.

Listen, I’m an actor. I am here for the drama and the raw performances and I live for the moment a character on my screen reflects back to me the same brutally real pain and suffering I’ve felt in my own life, or opens my eyes to a previously unknown world. What I do not understand, what I long to see an alternative to, is the nonchalant placement of booze EVERYWHERE. Surely, we can do better. Surely, we have a responsibility to.

As for the “Midday Rosé Barbie” dress…not my style.