We’ve been avoiding doing a Coconut LaCroix review for a long time. In fact, we’ve been avoiding it since we first started this site.
We’ve been a little downright tongue-tied around it, because (and here’s a big confession that will no doubt induce a Vulnerability Hangover), LaCroix Coconut is the most-consumed sparkling water in our lives.
Please go easy on us, sharing this makes us feel a little delicate and fragile.
But it’s true: for one of us in the Bubbleverse, this is our go-to pounder. A mindless carousel of Effervescent Approximate Coconut and Questionable Discernment rules our days.
Lest you judge us and cast aside the rest of our carefully considered reviews, we would like to disclaim: this fact of our lives is not because we think Coconut LaCroix is the “best” sparkling water around. Nor do we believe that this is for everyone. Hardly. We totally hear people when they think this is a bizarre dumpster fire of an offering. You aren’t wrong. We see you.
There is something in this obnoxious suntanned abomination that we can’t get enough of. We’re held in thrall to its vulgarity and dubious decency.
Understandably, we’ve been avoiding admitting this to you. But as we’ve mentioned, review requests for LaCroix keep coming in, and when the request for Coconut landed in our inbox, we knew that we couldn’t avoid writing this review any longer.
But writing this hasn’t been easy. Beyond the vague shame we feel around our inexplicable fascination with Coconut LaCroix, it’s been hard for us to mentally and spiritually process, much less explain in any articulate way, the conflicting emotions, the campiness, the crassness.
And then one day it hit us like a lightning bolt.
There was only one metaphorical summer’s day to compare thee coco to:
That’s right. SHOWGIRLS. Our favorite movie of all time.
In other words: it’s a masterpiece.
Now, we understand that this review has now devolved into yet another way in which you judge our bad taste and proclivity for camp. But let’s break it all down, starting from the moment you crack the can and the coconut enters your olfactory sense-memory.
The first aromas of coconut give you everything you need to know: the tackiness of spring break, the stickiness of regret, somehow we even detect notes of Survivor-esque cultural appropriation. Everything about the taste level is questionable.
It’s intoxicating. Our Nomi Malone in Vegas, grinding in nightclubs, strip clubs and pools and embedding her ambitious esprit into our souls.
You take a sip. And the comical grinding deepens.
Much like Showgirls, the Coconut performance/flavor is hyper-serious to the point of broad comedy. The coconut flavor that LaCroix pulls out here is not healthy, hydrating coconut water. Which, considering this is water, could be an option. But nah. Nor is it the festive shaved coconut of whimsical desserts.
Oh, no. This coconut takes itself very seriously. A coconut that’s so cartoonish it renders itself incapable of parody. A D-movie delusionally angling for an Oscar.
This coconut is depravity, a deep Hawaiian Tropic. A humid oil not meant to protect your skin, but bake it into a deep, inadvisable bronze that’s essentially an eff-you to your epidermis.
Maybe it’s these end-of-days vibes the world has been giving us starting sometime around 2016 (or since the 1980s, who can say anymore), but something about our daily Coconut fix brings some sparkling Theater of the Absurd for our taste buds. It sends us into some Calgon-take-us-away reverie, if the Calgon in question here was a seedy all-inclusive resort on the outskirts of Cabo.
Each and every time we throw away yet another empty box of LaCroix coconut, we question our moral compass and our life choices, yet we bask in the glow of something wonderfully garish and profoundly satisfying.
Sadly: we’ve noticed that Coconut’s presence has waned on the shelves over the past few years. We don’t know if LaCroix needed more space for Berry and Peach-Pear (they’re certainly not packing the shelves with Beach Plum. Has anyone else noticed that it’s nearly impossible to find?), but we genuinely don’t appreciate them depriving us of this classic.
And not just that, we were super bummed when Waterloo discontinued their Coconut. We never got a chance to review it here, but briefly: Waterloo Coconut was like the All About Eve to LaCroix’s Showgirls. Whereas All About Eve is a cinematic classic from 1950 earning a record fourteen Academy Award nominations, Showgirls remains one of the worst movies of all time.
Basically, Waterloo’s coconut was the more dignified and less tawdry coconut. Let’s just say Waterloo was the one you’d bring home to meet the parents.
Ultimately though, there’s no point in comparing coconuts. “LaCroix Coconut” is definitively its own flavor, at this point. You’re not here to drink something coconut-flavored: there’s no coconut that tastes like this. There’s only one thing that tastes like this.
Also, let’s just say it while we’re here: pronouncing “LaCroix” is arguably the “Versayce” of our time. If you haven’t seen Showgirls and get that reference, this is your sign from the Universe that you don’t delay another moment.
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