Katy, Sweetie, Where is the Sin? A Review by Dionysus
Dionysus reviews a non-alcoholic botanical apéritif, waits on his ottoman for the jalapeño to take him, and instead organises his amphora collection. Two stars: the drink is competent, calming, and a personal insult to the god of ecstasy.
Look, Katy, I love the “California Girls” aesthetic. I really do. The Candyland references? Inspiring. And the electric blue hair? Giving Maenad. But we need to talk about these De Soi cans.
I popped and pried open a Purple Lune expecting a dark, turbulent journey into the abyss of my soul. Instead, I got your “mood-boosting” botanical blend. Katy, darling, I am the mood. I don’t need an alcohol-free blackberry-balsamic infusion powered completely by adaptogens to help me “unwind.” I usually unwind by drinking my ecstasy in liquid form from my favorite rhyton.
Some Tasting Notes (From a God’s Perspective)
- Golden Hour: It tastes like a sun-drenched meadow with nymphs prancing around where nothing bad ever happens. Sure, it’s crisp, citrus zesty, and herbaceous, but it’s also incredibly suspicious. Where’s the bite? Where’s the urge to give Midas the touch of gold? It’s like drinking away a very expensive spa day.
- St. Moritz Mule: Mules? In a drink? Now we’re getting closer to my brand. But then I read this review from @ariadne1225: “Perfect for a grounding, earthy lift!!” Grounding? I’m the God of Ecstasy. I don’t want to be “grounded.” I want to be vibrating at a frequency that makes even the constellations nervous.
- Haute Margarita: I waited. I sat on my leopard-print ottoman and waited for the “fiery jalapeño” to take me. It never came. I just felt…focused? I organized my amphora collection. I replied to a scroll from Zeus. It was disgusting. I’ve never been more productive in my life. Is this what mortals do? They drink an “ode to salted rims, sun-kissed citrus, and just the right touch of heat” to solve all their problems?
The Verdict
If you want to feel like a sophisticated, responsible adult who “has their life together” and “doesn’t want a headache in the morning,” then sure, I guess you can buy the 48-pack.
But if you’re looking to start a cult in the woods or wipe out for a full forty-hours, you’re going to need something a bit more… fermented. Concentrated, if you will? This isn’t liquid riot; it’s liquid pilates.
P.S. The cans are indeed very pretty. They look great next to the sacrificial altar.