A few posts ago, I mentioned the new pack stars of Kinder Schokolade - some of whom are now World Champions. The picture above shows the changes in the pack since its introduction in the late 60s. Günther was the chocolate chap for years, sporting a variety of hairstyles, until Kevin kicked him out in the early years of the new millennium.
Another cult kid is the boy on the Brandt rusks pack - the hairstyle and clothes change, but the blue eyes, blond hair and perfect white teeth have been there since the 1920s.
Another picture of glowing good health is the little girl on the Pomps Kindergrieß (semolina) pack - at least, I think she's a girl. She's been around since the early 70s so must be well into her 40s by now.
Another little girl, reminiscent of a character from Grimm's Fairy Tales can be found on Rotbäckchen - literally, "little rosy cheeks" - a range of vitamin-packed juices.
Of course, I didn't grow up with any of these, but there are English counterparts who I recall dearly: the cheeky chappie on the Rowntrees posters, for example.
Or the Start-Rite Kids.
And their slightly disreputable cousins, the Bisto Kids.
All of these brand ambassador boys and girls are advertising products that are specifically for children, or families anyway. But I was rather tickled to see a product with a lovely little laddie as the logo which is certainly not for children:
Here he is in all his Hummel-figure glory - the Allgäuer Büble. He harks back, apparently, to the tradition pre-beer bottles, where children were sent with an empty Stein or jug to the pub to collect beer for their elders and betters. On the beer's website, you can buy all manner of paraphernalia from glasses, trays and metal signs to Trachten shirts and jackets.
Can you imagine the uproar if such a thing were suggested in the UK?
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2 comments:
I’d forgotten all about the Rowntrees posters, but recognised it immediately and who could forget the Bisto Kids.
My dad used to send me to the pub for a Whisky Mac (Scotch whisky and ginger wine). I wasn’t tall enough to see over the bar but would stand on tip toes and slide the hip flask onto the bar. Once full and paid for I would run back to the field where dad would be ploughing or harvesting, and he would have a little nip throughout the long hot afternoons!
I thought you might enjoy this nostalgic post, Barbara! I loved your tale about the Whisky Mac - I'm sure it kept your dad going with his hard work.
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