Why Feijoa Flavoured Marketing Works Better Than You Think
Somewhere between April and May, a marketing season blooms. Not tax returns, not Easter deals. I’m talking feijoa-flavoured everything. Yoghurt, kombucha, cider, lip balm. It’s a seasonal switch flipped by every brand with a product remotely ingestible. And frankly, I love it.
Not because I’m a feijoa diehard (they’re divisive, like coriander with a tart attitude), but because the whole exercise is marketing theatre at its freshest. Seasonal flavour launches are weirdly efficient attention engines. Brands piggyback off micro-calendar moments that Kiwis actually care about. ‘Feijoa season’ isn’t an official holiday but try telling that to the marketers at Chia Sisters or All Good Organics. They tap something that supermarket calendars don’t — genuine, sensory nostalgia.
There’s also some genius scarcity psychology at play. Feijoas rot fast and travel badly, which means their window for virality is tight. Marketers lean into this, pumping out limited editions that say, indirectly, ‘buy now or wait another year’. It’s probably the only time I’ve seen a toothpaste go viral (yes, it had feijoa). Timing is everything. Brands that get in first, win. Ones who show up in June? Sorry, the moment has browned.
But here’s what tickled my marketing nerve: this strategy is replicable. Kumara season. Bluff oysters. Even the first frost could be a cultural cue. You don’t need a big budget, just eyes on the calendar and ears on what Aunty Trish is tweeting about in Eastbourne. The feijoa trick isn’t just about fruit. It’s about understanding which pieces of local culture are quietly screaming for attention — and bottling that before the supermarkets catch up.
Not because I’m a feijoa diehard (they’re divisive, like coriander with a tart attitude), but because the whole exercise is marketing theatre at its freshest. Seasonal flavour launches are weirdly efficient attention engines. Brands piggyback off micro-calendar moments that Kiwis actually care about. ‘Feijoa season’ isn’t an official holiday but try telling that to the marketers at Chia Sisters or All Good Organics. They tap something that supermarket calendars don’t — genuine, sensory nostalgia.
There’s also some genius scarcity psychology at play. Feijoas rot fast and travel badly, which means their window for virality is tight. Marketers lean into this, pumping out limited editions that say, indirectly, ‘buy now or wait another year’. It’s probably the only time I’ve seen a toothpaste go viral (yes, it had feijoa). Timing is everything. Brands that get in first, win. Ones who show up in June? Sorry, the moment has browned.
But here’s what tickled my marketing nerve: this strategy is replicable. Kumara season. Bluff oysters. Even the first frost could be a cultural cue. You don’t need a big budget, just eyes on the calendar and ears on what Aunty Trish is tweeting about in Eastbourne. The feijoa trick isn’t just about fruit. It’s about understanding which pieces of local culture are quietly screaming for attention — and bottling that before the supermarkets catch up.