What Happens When a Brand's Gimmick Exceeds Expectations?

Reading about a fashion designer launching an ice cream pop-up in a wealthy area, featuring flavors inspired by well-known condiments like Heinz Ketchup and Maldon salt, might make one gasp—not for the ice cream, but for sheer disbelief. Yet, at 11 a.m. on a humid July Monday in Mayfair, London, with summer just starting to emerge, Anya Hindmarch’s Ice Cream Project had enough customers to require six staff members in a space meant for three, with nearly half the flavors already sold out.

This pop-up, returning for its second year and wrapping up this weekend, is part of the Anya Hindmarch Village, which includes a café and three clothing boutiques. The already small space feels even tighter due to large freezers lining the walls. Instead of labels indicating flavor, tubs of ice cream display the logos of their respective brands, with Hindmarch’s name subtly adorning the lids. Walls of empty tubs create eye-catching displays featuring brands like Blue Dragon Sweet Chilli Sauce and Kellogg’s Rice Krispies.

Fortunately for patrons that Monday—and for the eager lines that formed during peak hours throughout the week—the ice cream, “crafted in small batches in Devon” (the maker's identity remains undisclosed), surpasses typical novelty flavors. While many gimmicky ice creams are merely marketing stunts tied to brands or intellectual properties, the Ice Cream Project serves genuinely delightful desserts.

Flavors are aptly inspired by their corresponding products, exemplified by a wonderfully smooth Ribena blackcurrant sorbet or a refreshing Birdseye green pea sorbet. When the shop gets creative with flavors, the results are impressively thoughtful: the Blue Dragon blend swirled in vanilla captures the essence of chile crisp on soft serve; a Kikkoman soy sauce flavor infused with sesame seeds creates a compelling umami experience.

The idea stems from Hindmarch’s Brands collection, which designs bags inspired by the packaging of brands like Perrier, Marmite, and Polo mints, retailing for over 1,000 pounds each ($1,275). In contrast, a tub of ice cream is a relative steal at 15 pounds ($19) for 500 milliliters (just over a pint), while two generous scoops are priced at 5.50 pounds ($6). These prices are quite reasonable for a part of the city that lacks many scoop shops or public spaces for enjoying ice cream. However, the location near her luxury boutiques may lead to some sticker shock, as the nearby shops entice passersby with their glamorous offerings, beckoning those who linger with an ice cream cone.

However, the thoughtfulness behind the ice cream occasionally puts the project at odds with its own brand-boosting purpose. A dark chocolate sorbet merely enhanced with salt serves more as a study in flavor balance than as a marketing ploy for Maldon Salt. A peanut ice cream inspired by KP salted nuts that lacks the brand’s characteristic saltiness is essentially just peanut ice cream dressed in a nice blue wrapper. Many customers over multiple visits noted that while they enjoyed their ice creams, they didn’t quite resemble the branded products they were meant to mimic—in fact, they tasted even better.

This observation not only undermines the branded aspect of the Ice Cream Project but also highlights the overwhelming perception of it as a destination for “weird,” “quirky,” and “crazy” flavors. There’s a crucial distinction between an ice cream that is “strange” due to its homage to tomato ketchup and one that is “strange” because the eating experience feels uncanny or unsettling. Typically, novelty ice creams can feel empty as they chase the brand appeal of the former while accepting the unpleasantness of the latter, resulting in flavors that may be off-putting—like ranch dressing. While the Ice Cream Project's shiny brand dedication aligns with the first definition, its actual offerings do not fulfill the second.

While there’s a sweet and savory cynicism woven into this venture, rooted in the cultural notions of “weird” food and branded nostalgia, there's an equal skepticism in viewing a pop-up like this as a manifestation of “late capitalism.” As Rachel Connolly points out in the Baffler, it’s merely a rhetorical escape for individuals to accept, with “knowing resignation,” that a fashion designer is cleverly marketing an expensive tub of Heinz Tomato Ketchup ice cream, and that despite this awareness, they feel powerless to resist, as it reflects the prevailing nature of our world.

Anya Hindmarch’s Ice Cream Project doesn’t permit such resignation, but this is as much a coincidence as it is intentional. By creating some delightful ice cream, especially unique blends that combine brands with other flavors, the pop-up unintentionally highlights the superficiality of the very concept that brought it to life. Thus, perhaps the most telling aspect of this venture on a charming Knightsbridge street is that during three visits across three different days, while scoops were flying off the shelves, not a single customer opted to buy a tub.

James Hansen is a culture writer based in London and the former associate editor of Dinogo London. You can follow him on Twitter and Instagram @jameskhansen.