{"id":2457,"date":"2023-11-07T09:37:28","date_gmt":"2023-11-07T09:37:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/illuminated-text.com\/cb\/?p=2457"},"modified":"2024-02-12T19:17:06","modified_gmt":"2024-02-12T19:17:06","slug":"rituals-movement-of-meaning","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/illuminated-text.com\/cb\/rituals-movement-of-meaning\/","title":{"rendered":"Rituals & Movement of Meaning"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

(Bonus: What kind of ritual is this a picture of? – credit<\/a>)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A very quick intro<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

This will be a very short page (by our standards), as it covers only one theory, drawn mostly from just one article. This one is worth our attention, though, because it asks a very important question. Specifically:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If symbols are coded by our cultures, and also into our self-concepts, then surely there has to be some way by which they move from the one place to the other? And surely consumption has to be at least part of this story? Carrying symbolic meaning from our culture into our identity?<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
Let’s take two examples: Guinness beer and Harley Davidson motorcycles. How does this happen:<\/p>\n\n\n
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These brands have cultural symbolic meaning, but how would these get into people’s identities?<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Grant McCracken <\/span> suggests that it happens… well, like this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
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<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pause for a quick caveat<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
This article is a theory-piece, not an empirical one. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It draws on a lot of anthropological and sociological work about culture and rituals, and applies this to a very well-informed intuitive understanding of how consumers and businesses operate in markets. As clever as all of this is, it is still only an argument; it doesn’t provide specific concrete evidence that this particular set of boxes and arrows is our correct or best understanding of how this works in real life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As such it is probably best to think of this as a very plausible account<\/strong> for how meaning moves, at least some of the time. It is wise not to make strong statements that these steps are the necessary and sufficient ones; or that this is the way it always works.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
With that firmly noted, let’s get to the model:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The culturally constituted world<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
McCracken starts with a detailed theoretical account of how he believes culture to work. This section is rather densely laden with technical terminology that isn’t always fully standard to the field, but for our introductory textbook purposes, we will summarize it as being broadly consistent with the ideas we talked about on the last page. Any further critical exegesis is left as an exercise for the reader#up.<\/p>\n\n\n
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#down. And it's a good intellectual challenge, too, if you are up for it<\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n
The most important insight we need to take here is that cultures code a lot of meanings which are (by definition) shared across a lot of people. For example, Western culture codes ideas such as outlaw, toughness, and Irishness, and so these concepts are recognizable by many people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The question this model tries to answer is how these concepts move from existing in this “culturally constituted world” and end up inside people’s identities. It can happen, sometimes, and for some people, very directly (“I am a tough outlaw because the police literally want to catch me, and many people are afraid of me”, or “I am Irish because I was born and raised in Dublin”). But it can also happen indirectly for many people, via products and consumption.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cultural world to products<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
McCracken argues that this can happen in two ways: via advertising and ‘fashion’.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Via advertising<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
If we are being slightly glib we could say that cultures offer advertisers a large possible menu of meanings that they can select, and then link to their products by making adverts. In reality, it often isn’t quite so easy as this. Consumers may or may not believe that your product links to these ideas, and even if they do, the link may not be very helpful. Perhaps you want to present your motorbikes as Irish, but that might not be accepted by bike-curious consumers (“why have they stuck a harp and a shamrock on this thing?”), and even if they do accept it, they still may not feel that it is a particularly good reason to buy a motorbike (especially if they aren’t Irish themselves). <\/p>\n\n\n\n
McCracken raises more complications still: Even if an advertising agency is right that their Irish bike concept will work, this campaign will never happen unless they can convince the bike firm (or its brand manager) to commit their brand in this direction and pay for the marketing work. One of the key skills of a good marketer is to help manage the potential spaces between consumers, the potential uses they have for your product, and the brand itself (plus potentially other stakeholders too). <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Via fashion<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
McCracken is essentially using “fashion” as a catch-all term for the ways in which societies decide to attach meanings to products. He argues that this has 3 elements. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
One is via magazines and newspapers <\/strong>– these associate brands with meanings in a similar way that advertisers do. Maybe they write an article associating your lip gloss with goths or preppies, or declaring your cuff links to be the new ‘it’ thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two is via elite figures<\/strong> – opinion leaders have traditionally been composed of the rich, popular, and famous. McCracken believes these groups invent new cultural meanings, if usually only in limited ways, and are then often widely copied or imitated. For example, the “preppie” look was created by the children of wealthy families and became a cultural reference point to which some people desired to assimilate (while others pushed back, and so on).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Three is via non-elite sources<\/strong>. These are groups “existing at the margins of society, e.g., hippies, punks, or gays#up” (p.76). McCracken argues they make more radical innovations to culture, and that Western societies like to function as ‘hot’ cultural mixers, so pick up and absorb elements of these cultural innovations. This can happen even when the marginal groups themselves resent and resist this as appropriation (e.g., punks especially did not want any part of mainstream culture, having defined themselves against it).<\/p>\n\n\n
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#down. In 1986 when this article came out gay culture was very much marginalized - gay sexual activity wasn't fully legal in the UK until the early 2000s<\/a>. It has now become substantially woven into the 'mainsteam' culture in many places, though is still repressed in others (legally or informally) <\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n
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Punk with an epic green mohawk (credit<\/a>)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
That was the 1980’s. Are you sure these groupings are still accurate?<\/h4>
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The internet has changed the world considerably since then, including the ways in which these categories play out. That said, it’s not entirely clear if the categories themselves have changed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
If you are up for a little adventure into recent history, let’s consider how things were before and after:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The internet did exist in 1986<\/a>, but was very limited (mostly just email and discussion boards, and only a tiny sliver of the population had access to it). Popular culture had to be disseminated instead through newspapers, magazines, TV, movies, and radio stations, and these were owned by just a few firms. The people who controlled those media were therefore key gatekeepers, able to decide much of what the public would (and would not) be exposed to. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Marginal communities (such as punks) mostly existed in big cities where enough people were concentrated in one place for them to be able to find each other. Their only other options were to write books or fanzines in the hope that someone else would find them, or do things like copying cassette tapes to pass to their friends. These ‘marginal’ groups only really got noticed by the mass culture when they were able to meet up and do visibly radical things like wearing punk clothing, or dressing as hippies, joining mass protests and running communes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
These boundaries have been broken down considerably by the invention (and ubiquitous adoption) of the World Wide Web and social media. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is now far more possible for people from small groups to find each other – from enthusiasts (e.g., for model trains, independent music, etc) to traditionally marginalized individuals (e.g., genderqueer, neurodiverse, or otherwise socially non-conforming people like ‘nerds’). This means that there are a lot more of these ‘marginal’ groups now, with many of them getting so big that the term “marginal” becomes very debatable. If there are so many people who like dressing in furry animal costumes that they have conventions attended by thousands of people, then is that still marginal?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The role of the gatekeepers is largely broken now too. Where there used to be only a few “opinion leaders”, drawn from sets that media owners found acceptable, now there are hundreds of thousands of aspiring ‘influencers’ who find audiences directly, with varying degrees of success. Some have audiences of tens or even hundreds of millions of followers that rival the reach of pre-internet mass-media influencers (though they weren’t called by that name then). <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Brands have noticed this too. There is far more effort from them to engage with the smaller communities they can find, and their tendency to shower their wares on famous people#up has shifted to the new set of famous people. <\/p>\n\n\n
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#down. In the continuing hope that they will be publicly seen using them, thus transferring some of their meaning<\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n
So the process has changed, but is there still a meaningful division between elite and non-elite? Arguably yes, as the internet shows something of a winner-take-all dynamic. A tiny number of people tend to end up capturing an enormous amount of the available attention. There may be fewer institutional barriers in the way of would-be influencers#up, but there are still only a few ‘household names’ who are widely recognized. For every Youtuber with a hundred million followers, there are a million others who would like to have that number but can’t get it. For every singer who dominates the streaming charts, there are a million others who make only pennies from their art. <\/p>\n\n\n
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#down. It's easier now, but we would be exagerating if we said it was fully impossible before: four working class kids from Liverpool<\/a> had already taken over the world of rock music before the internet existed at all (its first version, Arpanet, started in 1969)<\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n
It is perhaps fair to say that the elites are more fractured now, being drawn from more different places. But the world does still seem to be divided: There are a few with enormous followings, and then the rest of us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That said, it is easier for ideas and influence to leak upwards from the non-elite. Individual ideas can ‘go viral’, and ‘crowdsourcing’ can pool information and money in a way that used to be much harder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So in summary, has it changed? Yes. Somewhat.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n
Rituals<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
The word ‘rituals’ tends to make us think of magical incantations, and people in long robes sacrificing chickens. This is not what McCracken had in mind. Rituals don’t have to involve candles or even repeating any particular set of words (though they sometimes do#up). They just mean this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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Rituals<\/strong><\/p>\nAnthorpology term<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Sets of repeatable actions that bring symbolic properties to the forefront and make them salient.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n
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#down. \"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday deeeaar so-and-so...\" (admit it, you can't read those words without hearing the tune). Or, if you prefer: \"Trick or treat!\", or the national anthem of your choice.<\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n
McCracken argues that there are four functions for consumer rituals: Possession, grooming, divestment, and exchange. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Possession rituals<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
These are rituals that one does to a newly acquired possession in order to extract its cultural meaning, and instil it into one’s self. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
One way people do this is by personalizing their new product, This starts the process of merging it into our self, bringing their meaning with it. Think about acquiring a new computer: Before you start writing essays and sending emails, many of us will first do things like setting the wallpaper pictures, copying in our files, installing preferred programs and apps, etc. By doing this we are installing part of our self into the product, and as the product becomes part of us, so do its cultural meanings (see our page on Self-Expansion theory<\/a> – this is exactly the same logic).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Another way we do this is by finding a special time for our first use of the product. Think of buying a new jacket perhaps, or even a Harley bike. If your jacket is just an everyday one to keep you warm, then maybe you just wear it next time it is cool. But what if the jacket is a special one – perhaps unusually fun, or formal, or awesome. Perhaps then you will save its first wearing for a special occasion – maybe a night out with your friends, or a big presentation, etc. If you buy a new Harley would your first ride on it be heading to the supermarket to pick up milk and a frozen pizza? Or would you do a few practice runs, then take it out on a proper first ride with other Hog riders? We’re guessing, for most of you, the latter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Grooming rituals<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
It would probably have been clearer to label these as “maintenance rituals” because this is what they do: maintain the meaning of a possession that one already has. McCracken called it ‘grooming’ because his examples centered around activities that maintain cleanliness and appearance#up. <\/p>\n\n\n
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#down. which is the original dictionary defninition<\/a> of the term. He wasn't intimating at its darker, newer, extra meaning<\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n
For instance, one might maintain meaning from one’s clothes or cosmetics by occasionally getting all dressed up in them and going out. The ritual here is more than just leaving the house. It is the process of getting yourself ready, locking yourself in a bed or bathroom, carefully putting it on, inspecting yourself in the mirror, adjusting it (tug and pull, wipe and re-paint), and then working out what to match it with (“no wait, that’s not right. Maybe…”). This functions to bring its meaning back to mind and blend it carefully into your working self.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But grooming doesn’t have to be of oneself, it can be of the product too. For some people washing their car isn’t just a chore that scrapes an acceptable amount of dirt off the vehicle. It can be a chance to lovingly polish it, restoring its shine and lustre, bringing out its lines and curves and bulk, and generally thinking about what it means and merging one’s own energies and efforts back into that meaning. Taking it out for a ride afterwards may be part of this same ‘grooming’ ritual too.<\/p>\n\n\n
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Grooming her car (credit<\/a>)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Divestment rituals<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
Where possession rituals put meaning into products, divestment rituals reverse that process and take them out. The most obvious time we do these is when we are disposing of products (especially if it is going to someone else), but we do them too when acquiring things second-hand – here the goal is to remove the previous owner’s meanings from our new possession. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We can divest meaning from an object by doing the opposite of personalizing it: we delete our files, put settings back to their defaults, or clean our detritus out from a car. It might not seem logical to spend all this effort on something when we are getting rid of it, and to be fair, we don’t always do this. But people do sometimes feel that separation from a discarded possession isn’t as psychologically painful if it is no longer such a piece of you. And if we are giving or selling the product to someone else, then it can feel strange to us that they would be using a part of our self, so we might use divestment rituals to try to cleanse our self out of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Similarly, when we acquire second-hand things from other people we will sometimes try to divest it of traces of the last owner. We will peel off stickers they applied, polish a screen clean, repaint walls in new colours, and even replace a home’s lighting fixtures, and so on. This isn’t just about adapting it to our taste, and it isn’t just about making old-fashioned things more modern (We might just as easily be replacing modern fittings with ‘vintage’ older ones). The key is that we are removing the traces of someone else, preparing to make it part of our own self without taking on the meanings of this past owner#up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
#down. Unless we like the meaning of the past owner (because they are a celebrity, or we feel close to them historically or stylistically) – in that case, redecoration could turn into a grooming ritual, as we ‘restore’ the place to its ‘past glory’<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You said rituals are “a set of repeatable actions”. That doesn’t sound like redecorating <\/h5>
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You have a good insight here – redecorating is not perfectly repeatable – not in the same way that reciting an ancient prayer is, with its set words recited in identical sequence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The truth is that humans are messy creatures, but this is because surviving in a messy world requires us to be. Even classic rituals like religious services make room for some words to be the same each time (which allows for comfortable familiarity), but also make spaces in which officiants can inject a little variety by varying the script and addressing concerns of the day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Redecorating calls for a lot of that flexibility. The broad structure may be the same (i.e., evaluate the existing space, reimagine what it can be like, visit hardware shops for supplies), but the specific concrete actions taken might vary a great deal each time (e.g., sometimes painting walls white, other times hanging mirrors and regrouting a shower). The ritual exists, then, in a slightly loose way, at a broad level of abstraction, and not so much as an exact list of brush movements. <\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n
Exchange rituals<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
The first three types of rituals make a logical sequence: 1. get thing (possession rituals installs meaning), 2. own thing (grooming ritual maintains meaning), and 3. dispose of thing (divestment rituals ejects meaning). Exchange rituals are a little different; They are about gift-giving. What makes this different is that gifts are given between people in emotionally significant ways, so this adds an extra element of symbolism to the products that are given.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why is it called an “exchange” ritual if we give gifts while expecting nothing in return?<\/h5>
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Great question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gift-giving happens in all cultures, so this is something anthropologists have thought about a lot. They say that gifts are indeed exchanges, only the return can be hard to see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We are most familiar with the type of exchange that happens in shops, where it is direct, immediate, and explicit: We give them money, they give us goods and services, and we both know what was paid and received.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But a lot of the exchange we do with each other is slower and less obvious, and follows a pattern that anthropologists call “generalized reciprocity”. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The idea is that we often give each other things with no expectation of immediate repayment. For instance, we give each other rides to a shop, we give birthday presents, we lend our possessions to people who seem to need them. If the other person were to offer us immediate cash repayment we will usually turn them down, and we might even be offended (imagine giving someone a birthday present, and them trying to give you a fistful of money in return).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But that doesn’t mean that there is no repayment, it just happens more slowly. If you gave someone rides and birthday presents and lent them things, but they never did nice things back, and they were consistently unfriendly towards you, and they never did anything nice for anyone else you knew either, at some point you would probably start to get annoyed with them. “Why do they take and take, and never give anything?” At some point, you would probably decide they were a bad person, and stop doing them all of these favours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So there is an exchange, but it is usually considered rude to acknowledge it, and it works on the level of “I do some generally nice things for you, and at some point in the future you also do some generally nice things for me”. A lot of marriages work on that level: If one partner stops contributing anything to the relationship, at some point it will become unbalanced and can collapse. It might take a long time to do so, however, because the giving partner will expect that some sort of kindness will surely come their way eventually.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This kind of exchange isn’t restricted to happening between pairs of people. Perhaps I help you today, and then you will help someone else next week, and then they help some other person a year from now. Nobody tracks any of these interactions; There is no ledger for who owes more or less (and we would be very annoyed with someone who tried to keep count; That would feel too grubby and transactional!). But, at the same time, there is still a general sense of balance; we help our community, and our community would help us (and others we care about) if and when we need it. Maybe we never do need that help, and that would be fine, but we’d be disappointed if they were not as forthcoming in our time of need as we were in theirs. The reciprocity is there but is highly generalized. People pay in when they can, and people receive help when they need it.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n
If that all sounds a bit abstract, imagine that your brother (or someone else who is close to you) gives you a really ugly decorated plate as a birthday gift (“It is a traditional folk craft from Artlessland. I bought it for you!”). Let’s assume, for the sake of argument that you hate this plate. You want to like it, but you can’t help but see it as ugly, and impractical#up.<\/p>\n\n\n
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#down As the old fashioned British phrase puts it, the plate is \"neither use nor ornament\"<\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n
Now also imagine that a crazed textbook author (isn’t that all of them?) arrives at your house, pulls out a big hammer, and insists that they are going to smash one of your plates. But they are going to let you choose: Either it can be this ugly decorated plate or a boring normal one that you eat dinner on every day: You choose which.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So which plate do you pick? Logically you choose the ugly plate that you hate and never use to be smashed. But you don’t, do you? Because it was given by your brother (or whoever), and that fact connects it to the relationship between you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So gift-giving rituals can form symbolic (but emotionally real) connections to the person who gave them. But they can also add further layers of meaning on top of this too. Most people would understand lacy underwear to have a certain cultural meaning, and a calculator to have a different meaning, and if you gave either to a person, they might feel that you are trying to press this meaning onto them. You are giving them something that invites them to play the associated role. McCracken explains it like this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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“Thus, the woman who receives a particular kind of dress is also made the recipient of a particular concept of herself as a woman (Schwartz 1967). The dress contains this concept and the giver invites the recipient to define herself in its terms. Similarly, many of the continuous gifts that flow between parents and children are motivated by precisely this notion. The gifts to the child contain symbolic properties that the parent would have the child absorb…”<\/p>\n<\/span><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n
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“wait wait wait. You want me to wear what?<\/strong>“
(iStock)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
What he is suggesting here is that if a boyfriend gives his girlfriend a slinky sexy red dress, then this is implicitly inviting her to wear it and play this sexy role with him – a meaning that she may or may not appreciate. Or, if a mother-in-law gave her daughter-in-law a very plain, sensible, long dress with a high neck, she is suggesting that her daughter-in-law may wear it to play a very conservative role. Again, the daughter-in-law might be delighted with this meaning, or might take it as criticism (i.e., “You think I’m too wild and need to be more straight-laced?”). <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This can make gift-giving a socially fraught activity: People who are buying gifts might worry about what their girlfriend \/ daughter-in-law will think. Will they welcome it or be angry at me? Will they feel that I am pressing them to play a role that they don’t like? “Maybe I should just get a nice earring instead – that can’t mean anything, right?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Or, returning to the brother who gave the ugly plate, was he implicitly suggesting that you might be someone who appreciates Artlesslandian folk art? Given that you clearly do not, it raises the question of how close he really can be to you if he doesn’t know this about you. Gift-giving can be difficult!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Let us also note that gift-giving rituals have their own repeatable rules! The recipient generally isn’t usually supposed to know what the present is until they open it (and they may be expected to feign this ignorance as needed). The giver is supposed to wrap the present up to hide what it is, and then the receiver is supposed to open it while being watched and to express surprise and delight with whatever it is (faking enthusiasm as required: “Oh, what lovely oven gloves! They’re so… green!”). <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Test your knowledge: The mystery of Guinness bubbles<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Guinness has been the most popular beer in Ireland for much of the time since it was founded in 1759, and is sold in over 100 countries now. The unusual thing about Guinness is its very dense froth. Most beers have carbon dioxide bubbles, but modern Guinness uses a mix of nitrogen and carbon dioxide, which makes for smaller bubbles, which creates this different foam and “mouthfeel” (that’s the actual term that food scientists use). It also means that the beer look like this when you first pour it:<\/p>\n\n\n
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Freshly poured Guinness (credit<\/a>)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
It takes about two minutes for the bubbles to settle out into a creamy head, and only then is the beer ready to be drunk:<\/p>\n\n\n
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A settled pint of Guinness (credit<\/a>)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Pouring Guinness out of a can didn’t produce this same “surge and settle” until the late 1980’s when Guinness introduced a ‘widget’<\/a> that produced this same effect#up. In 2001 they introduced a similar widget in bottles, but this one was designed for people in bars who didn’t want to sit around waiting for their beers – you just drink it straight from the bottle, and it squirts a bit more gass<\/a> every time the bottle is tilted, to keep the mouthfeel element.<\/p>\n\n\n
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#down. That link describes how the widget works, if you are interested. It's simple yet clever<\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n
The funny thing is that while this bottle widget clearly has some popularity, if you start talking to Guinness purists, quite a lot of them hate it. This doesn’t make any sense on its surface. They get the same taste that they like with the same mouthfeel, except with none of the waiting around before you are able to drink it. This should be a triumph of marketing problem-solving… but they are the opposite of pleased with it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The question is: Why?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
(hint: Think about rituals)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
See if you can work it out before checking our answer – discuss it with a friend!<\/h5>
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A big part of the reason that people like Guinness is its brand – a strong association with Ireland may or may not be believable and desirable for a motorcycle (as we discussed above) but it sure is for a beer. Ireland has a famed beer-drinking culture (there is a reason that much of the rest of the world has pubs that explicitly advertise themselves as “Irish bar”).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That surge-and-settle experience is a grooming ritual that helps bring this meaning into the beer drinker. It helps establish to them that they are not just drinking any random beer. They are drinking this special one that you have to wait for. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Guinness even made a successful advertising campaign<\/a> about this, with the slogan “good things come to those who wait” (here’s a video of one<\/a>  – notice the last image where they make it explicit, with a picture of 3 glasses in different phases of settling)<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n
Review<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
{pods_post_review}<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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