* A phrase coined by Sherlock Holmes when faced with a particularly perplexing problem.
Since its founding in 1987, P&W has occupied three offices, each no more than a stone’s throw from London’s Baker Street. Needless to say, I know the area well. From The Volunteer pub and the Beatles memorabilia shop at the northern end to the Chess and Bridge shop and the Japanese Knife Company in the south, I’ve watched businesses come and go over the years.
Yet, despite my usually sharp powers of observation, I recently discovered something surprising: somewhere along Baker Street’s mile and a half, there must be a vineyard, a château, or at the very least, a large wooden vat with barefooted “wine pressers” treading grapes. How else could we now be able to purchase a trio of wines from the Baker Street Wine Co.?
Some might argue that Baker Street’s greatest claim to fame is its immortalisation in Gerry Rafferty’s ’70s pop anthem. However, most would agree that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s legendary sleuth, Sherlock Holmes, reigns supreme, and fittingly, he takes centre stage on at least one of these wine labels. The White and Rose varieties seem to allude to a Holmesian connection although neither are executed by Doyal's illustrator of choice, Sidney Paget.
The mere mention of Holmes conjures images of him gazing thoughtfully from his apartment window, surveying the bustling street below through a dense swirl of pipe smoke. While our hero remained steadfastly at 221B Baker Street, the Baker Street Wine Co. appears to have no fixed address, despite the number being printed on its lid capsule. In fact, its only trace in North West London seems to be a presence on the shelves of Morrisons in Camden.
However, this hasn’t stopped Baker Street Wine Co. from featuring images of the great detective, his trusted sidekick, Watson and other characters, seemingly also from the stories. In reality, the wine is made from Australian grapes by Freixenet, the Spanish wine giant best known for its Cava, and distributed from Dublin. Not exactly steeped in English heritage, then?
While Sherlock Holmes may be a work of fiction, his presence on Baker Street is anything but intangible, nor are the lucrative opportunities his persona presents. The street is brimming with kitsch memorabilia, from keyrings and mugs to an array of novelty trinkets. If you’re so inclined, you can stop for lunch at the Sherlock Holmes Hotel or spend an hour or two queuing to explore the Sherlock Holmes Museum. (Side note: I’ve always found it rather curious to have a museum dedicated to someone who never actually existed, but hey, whatever tickles your fancy.)
Baker Street Wine Co. also seems to be cashing in on Holmes, just not in the most obvious location.
Now, I wouldn’t claim to be a Sherlock Holmes aficionado, but having read the stories and watched numerous adaptations, I know them well enough. And unless I’m missing something, the titles on these wine labels feel rather misjudged. “A Study in Scarlet” is undoubtedly one of Conan Doyle’s best, and the name works for the product, but the illustration on the label is actually from “Silver Blaze.” As for the other two? They seem entirely fabricated. “A Case of Intrigue” doesn’t exist in any Sherlockian canon, though there is “A Case of Identity” and “Three Tales of Intrigue,” suggesting the title is, in wine terms, a blend (or coupage). Meanwhile, “Crime of Passion” is neither Conan Doyle’s work nor remotely Holmesian, it’s the title of a Hollywood exposé novel by John Boorman and a Mills & Boon bodice ripper by Lynne Graham.
Not exactly elementary, my dear Watson.
P&W has designed numerous wine ranges over the years for UK retailers (including Tesco), international retailers (such as Secoma in Japan), and major brands like La Piat d’Or. We know that in wine branding, detail is everything. The core thinking behind these labels feels a bit woolly.
To their credit, the designers have introduced an interesting innovation, using luminous ink that reveals hidden illustrations when the lights are dimmed. The problem? The illustrations don’t seem to have any real relevance. A skull and crossbones, for instance, feels far more suited to Treasure Island than A Study in Scarlet!
With a wealth of Sherlock Holmes material to draw from 56 short stories and four novels, two out of three label titles feel like missed opportunities. But this isn’t a critique of design aesthetics; it’s an appraisal of strategic principles.
Branding is often a game of smoke and mirrors. Skilled designers can craft the illusion of authenticity where none exists. But just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should. Are these design choices being used to inform and engage, or simply to hoodwink? One could argue that it’s the brand owner, not the consultant, who defines the moral compass. But when complicity exists, there are two culprits.
I’m not suggesting that Baker Street Wine Co. and Freixenet have committed a dark and dastardly deed, but this approach to branding can be disheartening for companies that build their equity on genuine heritage and provenance rather than fabrication. It must also be particularly frustrating for authentic English wine producers, like Chapel Down, Black Dog Hill, and LDN CRU, to see a Spanish company capitalising on “Englishness.”
By the way, did you know that Sherlock Holmes’ iconic deerstalker hat was never actually mentioned in Conan Doyle’s stories? It may have been a brilliant piece of subliminal marketing by Sidney Paget, the quintessential Holmes illustrator (whose work is featured on one of these labels). Paget favoured the hat style, wore one himself, and, if rumours are to be believed, even had a vested interest in a company that manufactured them. Now that is clever marketing.
