Barron Trump Just Released His First-Ever Product. I Tried It. I’m Shocked How Much I Liked It. – Slate Magazine
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As a long-ago satirical headline decreed, it’s heartbreaking when the worst person you know makes a good point. A few years later, I’ve discovered a strange corollary: You know what else is heartbreaking? When the worst person you know has a grown-up son who has never made a good point in his life, but you have to admit he made a pretty decent yerba mate drink.
I am speaking, of course, of Barron Trump, President Donald Trump’s 20-year-old son, who recently made a foray into the beverage industry with a new drink called Sollos. The younger Trump is one of five founders of the company, which is now selling its energy-drink spin on the traditional South American herbal elixir in stores across South Florida and online, which is where I obtained a case of 12 cans for $39 plus shipping. (A case of Diet Coke, Donald Trump’s favorite drink—he’s also right about that, unfortunately—goes for about $10 in my area, for comparison purposes.)
If the president’s son founding a beverage company strikes you as pretty random, I won’t disagree. Little is known about Barron Trump beyond that he is very tall and studying business at New York University while living not in New York but in D.C., at least for his sophomore year, which just ended. There have been some reports about his political sympathies and whispers of links to the manosphere, but factually speaking, he and his family have revealed almost nothing, and he has never spoken publicly. He also has no public social media profiles. His family members are known for starting businesses and cashing in at every opportunity, but Sollos is Barron’s first publicly known venture—though CNN reported that he is involved in a (what else?) cryptocurrency company with his brothers, Don Jr. and Eric, as well. (His 19-year-old niece, Don Jr.’s daughter Kai, in contrast, already has a very public career as an influencer and launched a line of exorbitantly expensive sweatshirts while still in high school.)
This Sollos thing might be the best potential window into Barron’s interests that we get for a while, so it’s worth thinking about. He is, we can now say for sure, the type of guy who would found an energy drink company with his friends in South Florida. He is more than likely, in other words, not far off from the Gen Z conservative business bro you might expect him to be. Consider also that the drink is yerba mate, a product that has origins in Indigenous South American cultures. I’m reminded of various Real Housewives and other celebrities who have started tequila brands despite having no discernible connection to Mexico. Par for the course.
The founders’ goal with Sollos was to “create a beverage that actually complements life in the Sunshine State,” according to the website. “Despite Florida’s outdoor, sun-driven lifestyle, there was no clean, functional, and great-tasting beverage that truly fit how people in Florida actually live. Existing options either lacked quality ingredients or failed to deliver a refreshing taste that matched the environment and lifestyle.” The suggestion that Floridians require a beverage that differs from what people in the surrounding states drink is curious, but what would I know about how residents of Florida “actually live” and the liquids such a life requires? Maybe Ron DeSantis’ problem all along has been that he’s thirsty.
According to the company, the name “Sollos” comes from the Spanish word for “sun,” sol, and its reverse, los, which is meant to represent a sunset but is itself a Spanish word meaning “the.” “It begins where it ends,” the Sollos can boasts, a reference to, I guess, the brand’s founding in Florida and its palindrome of a name. It was “created in a cabana,” the can also asserts, and is “ethically sourced,” two claims I might argue are incompatible with each other. There are no ethical cabanas under capitalism, at least not in Florida.
The cans are light blue and look a little like sunscreen; a co-worker who sampled one offered that they taste like sunscreen too. I either disagree or have learned I don’t mind that quality in a beverage—I’m not sure which. I was expecting Sollos to be awful, and indeed wasn’t a big fan of my first can, but I must admit it’s grown on me. This isn’t hugely surprising, since I tend to have the palate of a 10-year-old, and this stuff is pineapple–coconut flavored. The classic flavor of the dominant brand in the U.S., Yerba Madre, with its distinctive yellow can, is faintly bitter by comparison (though it also offers sweetened varieties). I got one of those to try too; after taking a few sips of Yerba Madre, I popped open another Sollos, and this time I liked it much better. How’s that for a ringing endorsement? All you have to do to enjoy a Sollos is to drink something you dislike right before—then it’ll taste great in comparison.
I kept drinking, and unfortunately, Sollos continued to grow on me. I’m having one now as I write this, and I would go so far as to say I like it. I caution you that this should really not be a mark in its favor. As I’ve noted, I have bad taste, not unlike the president himself, who, by the way, will absolutely never try a Sollos. I certainly will never spend any money on Sollos again, but strictly speaking, I guess I do think Barron and his twerp co-founders made a pretty good drink. (Heartbreaking: I would have preferred a good point!) Is there an optimistic way of looking at this, or does this mark the beginning of the Barron world order? My delusional hope is that we’re at a fork in the road of Barron’s life, and maybe choosing the beverage hustle could keep him away from politics and other more directly vampiric activity? It could happen. Or he could be exactly like the rest of his family, in which case there will be no solace, only Sollos.
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