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Fresh off her sophomore album, GUTS, pop sensation Olivia Rodrigo has announced a smoothie partnership with America’s cultiest grocer, and to no one’s surprise, the price is nothing short of exorbitant. Being the Los Angeles–residing, collaboration-loving, pseudo-health-food fanatic that I am, I assigned myself a taste test. The sun is low as I take a detour on my Thursday-afternoon walk to the library to stop at the Silver Lake Erewhon and pick up Rodrigo’s $18 smoothie, aptly named “good 4 ur GUTS,” a triple reference to her second single, her recent album, and the “robust, gut-healing support” promised by the drink in question.
Never the grocer to skimp on quality ingredients, Erewhon’s blend features a mix of organic fruits (strawberries, blueberries, mangoes, dates, and avocados), along with a slew of digestion-enhancing supplements, including kombucha, maca, sea buckthorn, and ION Gut Support. Rodrigo herself has said little about the smoothie, but promotional social posts have stated that part of the proceeds “will be donated to olivia’s #fund4good to support women’s healthcare.” The mission of the fund is vague: Rodrigo told People in October that “its initiative is to raise awareness for certain groups that are championing women’s issues in America and all of the other territories I’m going to.” Tummy aches undoubtedly fall under the vast umbrella of women’s issues in America and other territories, so we’re not going to probe too hard into this one. My own tummy, in the interest of intrepid journalism, has taken the initiative to give itself a minor ache to put the so-called gut-healing elixir to the test. A lot is riding on this smoothie.
On arriving at the Erewhon Tonic Bar, I’m informed that the smoothie isn’t available from the “in-house menu.” Crestfallen, I ask the smoothie artist, “I can’t have the smoothie here?” “Oh no, you can,” she counters. “You just have to order it on the app and then we can make it.” I download the app and enter my personal details. I receive a verification code and confirm my phone number. I try to ignore the thoughts on the periphery of my consciousness that question why my date of birth is needed for this smoothie transaction; I have a task to complete. Finally, my account is set up and the sprawl of Erewhon’s bounty is at my fingertips. It’s also all around me because, again, I’m still inside the Erewhon, but the physical manifestations suddenly pale against the digital simulacra in my palm.
Vibrating with anticipation, I search “Olivia Rodrigo.” To my confusion verging on panic, there are no results in the app. I approach the register again. “Hi, I’m so sorry, but I can’t find the smoothie when I look up ‘olivia rodrigo.’” The smoothie artist tells me that’s because it’s called “good 4 ur GUTS.” Fine. I’m the idiot. I correct my search, find the smoothie, and add it to my cart. The menu price of the smoothie is $18, but after a suggested 5 percent shopper’s tip (I’m the shopper but whatever), two “bag fees” of 20 cents each (which I can only assume apply to the cup and straw that come with my smoothie), and some other mystery fees (that somehow don’t show up on any receipt I’m able to procure), I’m charged $21.71 and told that my smoothie will be ready in 15 minutes, or approximately the duration of five Olivia Rodrigo songs.
Photo: Anusha Praturu
Armed with the Erewhon app and time to kill, I get down to the business of cost analysis. Each ingredient in the smoothie, including the $42 sea buckthorn (which “offers potential benefits without making explicit health claims”), is sold as an individual item at Erewhon. Adding all the smoothie ingredients in the smallest quantity available brings my cart to a staggering $182.09. Obviously, the comparison is apples to organic dragon fruit, but you could buy ten smoothies for that price and you probably can’t make ten smoothies with one haul. Plus, the thought of the pure commercial value of the vitamins, elixirs, and probiotics that are about to get to work on my gut is enough to make me feel like the nearly $22 I just dropped is, if not a steal, at least an investment.
Finally, my smoothie is ready, and as I exit Erewhon, I start sipping. The Protein Chocolate Maca is the predominant taste at first, but as I keep on drinking, the tartness of the fruit and the kombucha starts to come through. The real star is the most inexpensive ingredient: the coconut cream, which is swirled, not blended, into the drink. I’m enjoying it, not because it tastes any more special than the last chocolate-berry smoothie I had but because I treated myself to something nice. Whether or not my body is actually reaping any of the potential health benefits in the blend of specialty tonics I’m ingesting, the simple gratification of this luxury in the name of gut health is supremely satisfying.
I don’t know if it’s the ION Gut Support, the probiotics in the kombucha, the buckthorn, the dates, or simply the ritual of taking a long walk on a sunny afternoon while indulging in such an extravagance, but as I descend the final hill and arrive at the library, I notice that my tummy actually feels pretty good. I start to wonder how I’d feel drinking an even more expensive smoothie. The highest-ticket one currently on Erewhon’s menu is the $22 Strawberry Probiotic, and though I admire it for sporting a price point higher than O-Rod’s age, it’s not enough. My challenge to Erewhon is this: Make me a smoothie that harnesses the full power of your supplement repository, one with Ashwagandha Elixir ($53), Blue Majik ($53), and Pearl Powder ($99), and do it with a celebrity who has the chops to market a smoothie in a triple-digit price range. Bradley Cooper presents the Erewhon x Limitless smoothie, at a dare-you-to-question-it price of $112. Because as long as celebrities roam the streets of Hollywood, they will participate in brand collaborations, and no brand is better positioned than Erewhon to test the limits of what consumers will shell out in the name of pseudoscientific health claims. And to be seen walking around L.A. with a bougie little treat in hand.
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