The Universe of Differentiation is a framework we developed at Decommoditized to guide you through the critical first steps of uncovering a true, meaningful differentiator for your brand, the all-important first step in distillery marketing.
Click here to download the distillery-specific version of this tool.
In this industry, brand value is more often the key to greatness than the liquid in the bottle so let’s continue on building up that brand buzz.
#7 PROCESS
When Metallica and Sweet Amber Distilling of NY launched Blackened Whiskey, they didn’t just slap the band name on a label and call it a brand—they wanted to build something no one else could touch. Sweet Amber didn’t lean on legacy or false exclusivity—they forged their differentiation in fire, steel, and sound. Quite literally. The brand’s unique distillation method—dubbed Black Noise™—uses low-frequency sound waves from actual Metallica tracks to agitate the whiskey in its barrels, pushing the spirit deeper into the wood, extracting complex flavor compounds no traditional method can replicate.
This wasn’t just marketing flair. It was process as positioning—a way to take the chaotic energy of heavy metal and encode it, molecule by molecule, into every bottle. It’s a bold, almost alchemical approach that says: “We’re not just aging whiskey—we’re engineering an experience that could only come from us”. While competitors flexed heritage or empty luxury, Sweet Amber created a product born of sonic assault and scientific precision. That’s not just differentiation—it’s a masterstroke of marketing supervillainy.
#8 NICHING DOWN
While most liquor brands were busy chasing the same bloated demographics—glamorous nightlife, smooth jazz dinner parties, or bro-fueled backyard barbecues—Skinnygirl showed up with a sniper rifle. Bethenny Frankel didn’t try to compete with legacy vodka brands on taste notes or distillation methods. She carved out a niche so specific, so dialed-in, that it became untouchable: low-calorie cocktails for health-conscious, image-aware women who still wanted to drink without wrecking their diet.
She wasn’t selling vodka. She was selling permission. Permission to indulge without guilt. Permission to toast without blowing your macros. And most importantly, she didn’t try to be for everyone—she made damn sure Skinnygirl was unmistakably not for beer-gutted frat boys or old-money scotch snobs. That ruthless clarity of audience wasn’t just branding—it was a battle tactic.
While other brands were casting wide nets and hoping to land whales, Skinnygirl threw a harpoon straight through a specific buyer’s psyche. That’s the power of niching down: You don’t water down your message—you distill it so strong it hits like truth serum.
#9 REPOSITION THE CATEGORY
White Claw didn’t just enter the hard seltzer space—they detonated it. Before them, the “light alcoholic beverage” category was limping along, still dressing like a wine cooler from the ’90s. Then comes this sleek, monochrome can with the cool confidence of a Bond villain. It wasn’t for beer bros or wine moms. It was for a new tribe—active, effortlessly stylish, pseudo-health-conscious hedonists who just wanted to vibe without the beer bloat.
Instead of fighting for shelf space in the “flavored malt beverage” ghetto, White Claw pulled a full-on category heist, repositioning hard seltzer as a status symbol. It felt light, looked clean, and shouted “I’m not like the others”. They changed the narrative by changing the product context—and in doing so, they built an entirely new playing field while their competitors were still figuring out the rules. It wasn’t just a beverage pivot—it was a masterclass in decommoditization™ and category repositioning.
#10 TIMING
Pilsner Urquell didn’t just launch a beer—they launched a time machine. While most brands fight to stay relevant by chasing trends, Urquell zagged hard. They leaned into their origin story like it was a damn birthright. In a world of microbrews and gimmicky cans, Pilsner Urquell played the long game, flexing their status as the original golden lager—born in 1842, still brewed the same way, with the same damn flame.
Their timing play? Genius. As beer drinkers got whiplash from too many hazy IPAs and “unicorn farts” stouts, Pilsner Urquell positioned itself as the antidote to chaos. When consumers were ready to swing the pendulum back to classic, clean, and credible, Urquell was already there, calmly pouring from a wooden barrel like an old soul who never left the bar. They didn’t try to invent a moment—they waited for it, then owned it.
#11 CAUSE ALIGNMENT
Woody Harrelson’s Holistic Spirits Co. is a textbook example of how cause alignment can be used to cut through the white noise of the spirits industry. Co-founded with wellness entrepreneur Amy Holmwood, the brand launched with a mission to produce spirits that are better for both people and the planet. With flagship offerings like Origen Vodka and Harmony Gin—crafted using organic, non-GMO botanicals such as elderberry and artichoke leaf—the company integrates health-conscious ingredients with sustainable production. Their green distilling methods, eco-friendly packaging, and path toward B Corp certification elevate the brand’s environmental credibility beyond buzzwords.
What truly sets Holistic Spirits Co. apart is Harrelson himself. A long-time vegan and outspoken environmentalist, Harrelson’s values aren’t just marketing copy—they’re embedded in the brand’s DNA. His authentic involvement adds a layer of trust and emotional resonance with consumers who care about what their dollars support. In a category driven by superficial lifestyle branding, Holistic Spirits Co. chose a different route: make purpose the product.
#12 BYPRODUCT
Dos Equis didn’t just sell beer—they sold intrigue. With their legendary “Most Interesting Man in the World” campaign, the brand created a brilliant byproduct: drinking Dos Equis made you more interesting. Or at least, that was the implication. The beer itself was merely the delivery vehicle; the true product was aspirational identity. By aligning the brand with a fictional icon whose tales ranged from absurd to legendary (“He once had an awkward moment just to see how it feels”), Dos Equis gave its audience something far more valuable than a buzz—they gave them conversational capital.
This byproduct strategy flipped the script. Instead of shouting about hops or heritage, Dos Equis made the consumer the hero. The beer became a talisman, a social enhancer that suggested you had stories worth telling. It was never about the drink—it was about who you became after the drink. That’s classic Marketing Supervillainy: taking a commodity and wrapping it in mythology so irresistible, people couldn’t help but buy into the legend.
