Today, the format is made in a couple different styles: the rotund Miller High Life “stubby” the tall, skinny Coronita, which had its start in Mexico but was first introduced in the U.S. Because of its uniqueness, we got a whole new group of people to try Miller High Life for the first time.” George Weissman, CEO of Philip Morris, which owned the beer company at the time, told Forbes in 1976, “The seven-ounce size acted as a catalyst for us. It was conceived of as a marketing move meant to boost sales, and it proved incredibly successful. While Miller’s initial small-bottle release came in the 1950s via mini Champagne bottles-a tribute to High Life’s nickname as the “Champagne of Beers”-the widely recognized, squat shape (often called a “stubby”) that’s still available today was first sold regionally in 1972 and then launched nationally in 1975. The progenitor of the first “pony” bottle isn’t known, but the long history that Miller has with the size points to it as the first large-scale producer, while Rolling Rock seems to have been one of the first brands to use the term “pony” for its seven-ounce bottles. The numbers back it up: In 2015 alone, Constellation sold 520 million Coronitas (up from 14 million in 2005), which makes up about 12 percent of the volume of the Corona brand. I am not the only one to be swayed by the darlingness of these diminutive beers, which seem to be having something of a renaissance, both by way of the dive bar and kitsch-appreciating cocktail bars and restaurants. Herein lies the truth: No one, not even the snobbiest of beer drinkers, can turn down a cute bottle of beer. For us, there was ridiculous amount of joy found in a seven-ounce bottle of golden, average beer. We went there solely for basics-paper towels, pasta, Pop Tarts-until, one day, Annie came home after a crappy day with a lime and a six-pack of mini Coronas, aka “Coronitas.”įor the rest of our year there, we had what we needed. Our apartment building was really, truly fascinating for several reasons the fact that it was across the street from a big grocery store was not one of them. When I first moved to New York, I lived with my friend Annie on Gates Avenue in the Ridgewood neighborhood of Queens, at a time when none of our friends had heard of that area. I have my stock, but after nearly 13 years in New York, I’ve realized that they a., aren’t all that funny, and b., don’t actually reveal any useful life truths-aside from one. And most have more than one, told as if they were forgotten Aesop’s fables, whenever an opening in conversation allows. “When I first moved to New York” stories are sacred to any transplant.
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